Page 72 of My Grumpy Billionaire Soccer Star

“Thank you for being here,” I begin, my voice steady. “I wish to address the latest charges leveled against me regarding drug use and drug distribution. Let me be clear: these accusations are false. I have been tested and gone through intense scrutiny, and I have nothing to hide.”

The crowd murmurs, growing louder as the cameras flash, capturing every word. My confidence rises with every sentence, and I continue, “I have dedicated my life to this sport, and I will not let baseless claims tarnish my reputation or the integrity of the game I love.”

I look out at the sea of reporters and take a deep breath. “Rumors can often fly around at the speed of sound, but I’m here to tell you that I’m committed to proving my innocence. I’ve always played by the rules, and I will always do so.”

The questions start flying as I finish my statement. With a calm expression, I respond to each one, but inside, I feel the frustration bubbling under the surface. These accusations have worn me down, and I’m tired of constantly defending myself.

After the press conference concludes, I head back to the training facility. I need to find some productive way to channel this energy. The gym is like a sanctuary—I can focus on improving myself physically and mentally there. I change into my training gear and get on the field, surrounded by the familiar scent of sweat, sport, and determination.

I start my warm-up, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Collins approaching. My stomach twists at the sight of him. Lately, he’s been a constant presence, and I can’t shake the irritation that I feel whenever I think about what I saw between him and Rachel at the coffee shop.

“Hey, Vaughn!” Collins calls out, jogging over. “Good work at that press conference. They’re saying you handled the questions really well.”

“Thanks,” I reply tersely, not wanting to engage more than necessary.

He stops for a second, and I can see the worry on his face. “Things have been rough, but Rachel has nothing to do with any of this,” he says. “She’s on your side.”

His words make my jaw clench. “Don’t tell me how to feel, Collins,” I snap. “You don’t know what I saw.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, his brow furrowing as if he genuinely doesn’t understand.

“I didn’t appreciate seeing you two together at that coffee shop. And now you’re telling me to trust her?” I say, my frustration boiling over. “I don’t know what’s happening between you two, but I don’t want you anywhere near her.”

Collins’s eyes widen; he looks taken aback. “Vaughn, that’s not fair. I had a conversation with Rachel. You’re reading way too much into this. Plus, you were okay with me asking her out, remember!”

“Reading too much into it?” I scoff. “She’s my secretary, not your personal confidante. You’re getting too close, Collins.” I didn’t want him to know that things have changed now.

Exasperation creeps onto his expression as he runs a hand through his hair.

“I’m just trying to be a friend, man. You have to let go of the jealousy. She’s a professional, and she’s been through a lot too.”

“I don’t know what you know about what she’s been through,” I shoot back, my voice rising. “Just stop coming in to try to save the day, and let me handle all this shit, alright? You don’t need to defend her, either. I have to concentrate on my training and this coming game.”

“Then do that,” he replies, his tone firm. “But don’t take your anger out on Rachel. She’s been in your corner this whole time. You’ll lose her if you keep pushing her away.”

The words slam into me, and I don’t know what to say for a moment. Collins cares about Rachel—I know—but I don’t want to lose her. I need her support more than ever right now.

Finally, I say, “I’m not pushing her away. I just need to figure this out.”

“Focus on what’s important,” Collins says. “But don’t shut her out. You both deserve better than that.”

Frustration and uncertainty churn inside me as he turns to walk away. But I can’t help but wonder if Rachel is truly on my side. The doubts linger, shadows in the back of my mind. The thought of her getting too close to Collins only amplifies the feeling that I’m losing control.

I push myself harder in training than ever before. For some reason, the physical exertion clears my mind of the chaos; it feels cathartic. I concentrate on every movement and every kick, pouring my emotions into the game. No matter how hard I try to shake it off, though, I can’t shake the feeling that something is . . . wrong.

When I finish, I’m drenched in sweat and adrenaline. I grab my phone to check for messages and notice a missed call. There’s nothing from Rachel, and disappointment washes over me. I know I need to reach out, to close the gap between us, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

The tension from my talk with Collins lingers as I leave the training facility. Yet I hate to admit he’s right. I’ve got Rachel, and I shouldn’t let jealousy control my actions. That knot of frustration tightens my chest when I think about the coffee shop.

Just as I step out into the parking lot, Collins catches up to me. “Vaughn, come on!” he says, irritation in his voice. “I’m just trying to look out for you. You’re pushing everyone away, even Rachel. You need to get your head straight before this big game.”

“Watch out for me? I don’t need looking after.” My voice is sharper than I mean it. I shoot back, “I can handle my own life.”

“Obviously, you can’t,” says Collins, furrowing his brow. “You’re making it harder on yourself. Just talk to Rachel. Work things out.”

I turn on my heel and storm away. “I said I don’t need your advice,” I snap. Trying to tell Collins not to poke his nose into my life or Rachel’s.

His eyes are on my back, and I can feel them, but I don’t want to deal with him right now. I need space to breathe, to think.

---