Page 4 of From Fake Dates to Forever Goals

“Most men your age aren’t world-famous soccer players,” he calls back, stepping into the room with a coffee in hand. “When they screw up, they don’t end up plastered across the front page of a gossip rag.”

He picks up the magazine I discarded, shaking his head with mock disappointment.

“My life is my business,” I snap, clenching my jaw.

“That’s where you’re wrong, and you know it. You could sneeze, and it’d be on the morning news.”

I rake my fingers through my hair, staring at the table. For a moment, the thought of banging my head against it feels oddly appealing.

“So what am I supposed to do? Stop dating entirely?” The words sound absurd even to me.

Jimmy sighs, setting his coffee down. “A different girl every night isn’t dating, Sebastian. It’s reckless, and it’s killing your reputation. The tabloids love it, but your sponsors? Not so much.”

He places his hands firmly on my shoulders, his tone softening. “You’ve got to cut it out, kid.”

Jimmy has been with me for years. He’s not just my advisor or attorney; he’s a father figure, someone I trust more than anyone else.

Before I can respond, Jimmy’s phone buzzes. He raises a finger, silencing me as he answers.

“It’s for you,” he says, handing me the phone with a cryptic expression.

“Sebastian,” a familiar, firm voice greets me on the other end.

“Sam,” I reply cautiously. “How are you doing?”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries. Castio’s. One hour. Don’t be late.”

The line clicks dead before I can respond. I lower the phone, rubbing my temples.

Jimmy meets my eyes, sympathy etched across his face. “Sam?”

I nod, already dreading the encounter.

“You want me to come along?” he asks, but his tone suggests he already knows my answer.

“You know what? This is between you two,” he says before I can reply. Grabbing his jacket, he heads for the door. “Good luck, kid. You’ll need it. Ciao!”

The weight of the impending meeting settles over me like a dark cloud. No conversation with Sam has ever been pleasant. As my father’s attorney, he’s blunt, relentless, and never sugarcoats the truth. And by choosing Castio’s—a busy, public restaurant—he’s ensured I won’t risk making a scene.

When I arrive, Sam is already seated, his usual scowl in place.

“Good to see you, Sam,” I greet him, forcing a smile.

“If only I could say the same. Everywhere I turn, I see your face,” he says, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

“Perks of being famous, right?” I smirk.

“Being famous for all the wrong reasons is nothing to be proud of, Sebastian.” His piercing gaze holds mine for a beat too long before he waves over the waiter.

“What are you having?” Sam asks, his tone sharp.

“I’ll just have a scotch. I’m not hungry.”

Sam raises an eyebrow, dismissing the waiter with a gesture. “You’re going to sit here, eat a proper meal, and listen to what I have to say. Understood?”

I sigh, nodding reluctantly. “Fine. I’ll have the steak.”

“That’s my boy.” Sam’s demeanor softens momentarily as he taps my hand and orders for us both.

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