Page 35 of My Grumpy Billionaire Soccer Star

Nicholas drives us back home in silence. And I am not talking about Nicholas’s silence because he’s silent most of the time. I am talking about the thick silence that envelops the car. Even talkative Raphael keeps his mouth shut.

I am sitting next to Nicholas in front, while Rachel and Raphael are seated in the back. I am still in the jersey I played in. I could not bring myself to go back into the locker room and face my teammates.

I can see Rachel through the rearview mirror, staring out the window, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. What is she thinking?

Rachel asks to be dropped off somewhere on the way, saying she has business to attend to. Except for the “thanks” she mutters to Nicholas, she doesn’t utter a single word. She doesn’t even look at me.

What is she thinking?

She had better not be mad at me because that would be a very big mistake on her part!

Raphael is dropped off shortly after, and Nicholas drives me home.

On our way, my phone rings. It is a message from Rachel.

You have a meeting scheduled for 5 p.m. with the manager of the Kinetikor gym wear brand. I told them you’d show up.

Location: 24 St. John’s Avenue.

Playing games with me, huh? Or perhaps she is trying to make her anger known by sending me a text instead of just telling me before she left? Pssst, like I care.

Without thinking much about it, I tell Nicholas to take a detour to the location. After about a ten-minute drive, we arrived at the place.

It is an isolated but sophisticated building at the far end of St. John’s Avenue. Thankfully, it has grown darker than when we left headquarters, so all I have to do is pull a hat over my face before stepping out to avoid being noticed.

A woman about the same age as Rachel is seated at the far end of the room I’m ushered into. She has an authoritative air about her, and it doesn’t take me long to figure out she is in charge. The two other men at opposite sides of the table nod and stand up to greet me, as does the woman.

The meeting is boring, like most meetings of this sort: some cameras going off in my face, crazy explanations about how great their brand is, crazier explanations about advanced materials science and nanotechnology—whatever the hell that has to do with gym wear. At the end of it all, they offer me a proposal to be the brand face of their product, which I humbly decline.

It seems to me that I have been focusing more on modeling and endorsements than my actual soccer career. As it is now, I am trying to clear out other endorsement contracts I have already signed, not add another to my plate. The new season starts in two weeks, and I am preparing to give it my all.

Chapter fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Rachel

“What have you done?” I mutter, pacing around in my apartment. I only went to Vaughn’s place to apologize for my mistake. I know it’s my fault that this happened. I know what potential consequences there are, yet what I have ended up doing only presents more consequences!

A crazy thought pops into my head:Quit the job, Rachel Reed.

I pause in my pacing to further consider the thought.

That doesn’t seem like a bad idea at all. After the crazy sex that Vaughn and I had in his study, he has probably lost all respect for me—that’s if he had any for me to begin with. He would probably treat me more poorly as he now sees me as a conquest. Our professional relationship has already been compromised. Vaughn would eventually boot me out if he felt I didn’t do my jobwell. So why not quit on my own while I still have some of my dignity left?

A knock that I don’t in the least appreciate sounds on my door. I almost didn’t go to check, but it persisted. I open the door to see Vaughn—the man troubling my thoughts.

My heart skips a beat—no, my heart skips two beats—and all my lips do in an attempt to say something is quiver.

He is looking at me intently, but it’s not the usual gaze that makes me feel like I am being pulled in two different directions. It’s a much warmer, tender look in his beautiful blue eyes, and I feel my knees almost give way.

My grip squeezes on my bed sheets, and my clit and his tongue make the perfect duo. I writhe in pleasure as he draws circles around my clit, my palms clutching at the mop of black hair on his head.

“I can’t take it anymore, Vaughn. Make love to me.”

He pauses and looks up at me, his blood-congested face and a smirk staring at me. He wraps his strong, muscular arms underneath my bare thighs and pulls me roughly—a little too roughly—toward him. He gets on top of me and presses his lips on mine in a hot, searing kiss. “Don’t you mean I should fuck you?”

The sexiness with which he says it makes me wetter even more, and my, did I want him to fuck me! Just like that, I am having sex with Vaughn again, just moments after we’d had sex in his study.

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