Page 3 of My Grumpy Billionaire Soccer Star

“Are you deaf? Not a word?” He snaps his fingers in my face.

“I . . . I got caught in traffic.” My words stumble out of my mouth as I try to find a more fitting lie. “My car was at the mechanic, so I picked it up, then—”

“Where is my meal? It looks like you are about to tell me a crap load of nonsense that I am not interested in hearing,” he interrupts me.

Ouch!My eyes begin to sting. There’s never a chance that Mr. Vaughn gives a flying fuck what I am going through.

“Here.” I hand him the nylon containing his food and give him his cup of coffee.

“This had better not be cold or wrong in the least.” He yanks it out of my hands, unsettling my balance so that everything else falls out of my hands.

“Shit,” I mumble as I squat to grab the items off the floor while Vaughn opens his food. The savory smell of poached omelets and egg salad fills the room as Vaughn takes a bite of his meal.

“Still good.” He lets out a satisfying low grunt as he munches. I whisper a little prayer in relief, seeing that I won’t have to deal with the bigger problem of having to go back and get him a new meal. He was annoyingly picky. Too crunchy? Toss it in the bin. Half burnt? Hand it to a staff member. Wrong order? Nag about it all day.

There are times I want to quit my job, but the satisfaction that would give my mother always throws me back into my career. She has always wanted me to be a lawyer like her, but I want to be a model instead. For two reasons: I love modeling, and my mother hates it.

“My office now, Rachel!” Vaughn yells at me with a mouth full before turning to walk away.

I finally get all the items off the floor and place them on the counter behind me, where Carmen is watching me with curious blue eyes. I try to ignore her and focus on putting everything together so it’s easier to lift.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but you have to put it under control. You seem to be the only one here who keeps riling Vaughn. At this rate, you might get fired. Are you sure you don’t want to ask the management for a different role? Working at the front desk isn’t all that bad.”

I feel the hot air escaping my nostrils as I level a firm gaze at her. Carmen is one of the several ladies in the center who desperately want to do everything within their power if it means that they can get closer to him, including switching places with me, as she suggests.

“I guess I’m glad he hasn’t fired me after all.” I shrug and pick my items off the counter. “You might actually make a great assistant for him, seeing how much you adore him,” I finish with the fakest smile that I can muster and watch Carmen’s face fall before walking away.

After two knocks, I turn the handle and walk in.

“Oh, God!” I exclaimed, turning my eyes away from the figure in front of me. Vaughn is topless, his hair wet from just having his bath.

“What? You’ve never seen a topless man before?”

I fumble with the stack of files in my hands, trying not to let my gaze drift, but it is impossible to ignore the sight in front ofme. Vaughn stands over a cabinet looking through some files, shirtless, his back to me, muscles shifting smoothly under his tan skin as he stretches his arms above his head.

Oh, God.

I quickly turn my head, pretending to be far more interested in the paperwork I am holding, but my eyes betray me, flicking back to him. His body is perfect—lean but muscular, with broad shoulders and a sculpted back that tapers into a trim waist. The way the light from the window highlights every curve and line makes it impossible not to stare. Heat creeps up my neck as my pulse quickens.

This is not the time.I silently scold myself, but my thoughts keep slipping into dangerous territory.

“So, I called you into my office because there has been a recent development.” He turns to look at me while trying to ease into a shirt. His front is exposed in the moments it takes him to put it on. My breath hitches in my throat as my eyes rest on his firm, swollen chest, rising with every breath he takes.

My gaze travels lower, taking in the sharp lines of his abs, the defined muscles seeming to ripple with every subtle movement. I swallow hard, feeling warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with the room temperature.

I shift awkwardly, pressing the files tighter against my chest as if they can shield me from the wave of desire slowly creeping up on me.

“We are traveling to the UK tomorrow. Once you finish all your tasks here today, head home and get packed.”

His words hit me like a pack of bricks, jolting me out of my drooling.

“What?”

His brows furrow together. “You heard me, right?”

“Well, the UK? I didn’t—”

“Your contract says you are available to travel at any time, doesn’t it?” I nodded my head slowly.

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