Page 27 of My Grumpy Billionaire Soccer Star

Okay, Ray, you’ll do just fine.

The drive to Vaughn Charity Center doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes. Still, to me, it feels longer than that because I struggle to maintain a decent composure despite how tense I feel inside.

I hop out of my car and go straight to the training ground upon arrival, my eyes sneakily scanning the area for Vaughn so as not to be caught off guard. And then, just a few yards away from the soccer pitch, I spotted him.

Good Lawd!

His sweaty body makes his jersey cling to his broad chest as he runs toward the goalpost, kicking the ball as fast as he can while the other players chase him relentlessly. For a fleeting moment, the thought of me running my hands over that chest crosses my mind and—

Come off it, Ray. Think composure, think control, think classy.

I switch my gaze to Raphael, who is standing with a camera crew on the sidelines, recording Vaughn’s training sessions. We are discussing something related to making some edits to Vaughn’s recorded training sessions when I catch Vaughn approaching us from my peripheral vision.

Shit.

I swallow hard and gesticulate with my hands fiercely to hide that they are slightly trembling. It takes real strength not to turn my head to look at him.

He sits down on a bench close to where we stand, and the man does not even try to hide that his gaze is fixed directly on me!

I maintain my composure, putting on a straight face as I continue to talk until, I hear: “Toss me a bottle of water.”

Okay, it is already strange enough that he calls me out of the blue at seven in the morning, acting all bossy and threatening to fire me if I don’t come over in ten minutes after what happened in his study—not that I am expecting a kiss on the cheek or a trip to the Eiffel Tower. But telling me to toss him a bottle of water so nonchalantly seems strange to me. I am curious as to how he went from avoiding me to acting as if nothing happened. Perhaps in an attempt to restore our normal work relationship? That’s fine by me!

I pause mid-conversation and meet his gaze. Well, he really is talking to me.

I catch my breath, and just as I think of getting him a bottle of water, Raphael takes a long stride toward a bag lying on the floor and throws him the bottle.

“Here, Vaughn,” he says.

Relief washes over me.Oh, thank God.Then comes the slight anger about being relieved. I scold myself:What’s so special about handing him a bottle of water? I have always been efficient at dealing with Vaughn, but now I can’t even hand him a bottle of water. That sucks!

Then, I feel a wave of panic washing over me.Has Raphael noticed anything? Why did he suddenly step in and toss the bottle of water himself? No, Rachel, it’s just a random gesture. Vaughn might have as well been talking to him since he said “Toss me” instead of “Hand me.”

Snap out of it, Ray.

I go back to ignoring Vaughn and continue discussing with Raphael and the group. Vaughn stands and goes back onto the pitch to keep playing.

Moments later, Carmen shows up with what I assume to be some food in a plastic bag for the field.

Really? Bringing Vaughn’s meal to the training ground?

But then, I assume that’s okay for someone like Carmen, who has shown several times that she wishes to take my “position,” like that’s something to strive for.

I get it; Vaughn is as attractive as the word goes, and I am sure most girls would rip faces off just to always be in close proximity to him. But Carmen knows how much of a jerk he is, just as much as I do, so the fact that she still wants his attention so badly baffles me.

“Hey, Carmen, you are looking awesome.”

It’s true. I couldn’t care less that she’s wearing a dress so seductive that even Raphael and the camera crew can’t hide the fact they’re eyeing her, trying to get Vaughn’s attention.

She gives me a slight nod and says, “That it is.” She offers a tight smile, but despite her attempt to be polite, I can tell she’s not happy to see me, which is evident from her eyes, now darker with annoyance.

She walks to the bench and sits down, her cleavage dipping a tad lower.

Poor breasts. They are probably gasping for air by now.

Raphael swallows and clears his throat, drawing my attention back to him. The expression on his red face almost makes me burst into uncontrollable laughter. He starts saying something, but then Carmen interrupts.

“Are you sure you’re okay, though? You know, you could stay at home for as long as you want. I’ve got everything covered here.”

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