Page 25 of Playing the Billionaire

Bye, Jerry. Fuck off, Jerry. Don’t come back, Jerry.

He left, slamming the door behind him.

I picked up the phone.

“Did you hear that?”

“I heard.” Miri’s voice held a smile.

“I’m sending a car.”

Chapter 12

Gabe

ImetMiriatCalverdale Stadium. My brogues sank into the wet grass and I regretted that I wasn’t dressed as casually as Miri. Leggings clung to her perfectly toned legs and a snug orange team hoodie hugged her athletic physique. I had to work hard to keep my gaze from dropping to travel over the exquisite curve of her peachy backside. The wind kicked at her golden ponytail. Her body was so athletic and powerful, but her delicate feminine features were wholesome and innocent. A perfect recipe for corruption.

Miri twisted in a circle on the spot, gazing awestruck around the empty seats. “I can’t believe I’m in the stadium. I used to come here all the time when I was a kid.” She dragged her sneaker lightly over the ground. “This feels incredible. So springy.”

“Polypropylene fibers. It’s the latest technology in turf. Artificial fibers are injected into natural grass approximately every 2cm across the pitch. It gives a more durable and even surface.”

A chuckle escaped her. “I didn’t take you for a grass nerd.”

“I want my team to have the best. In fact, I’m moving the women over to the men’s training pitches. Dad kept the facilities separate, but it makes no sense. The men have a state-of-the-art gym, steam rooms, hydrotherapy, physiotherapists, and dietitians. The men train from 8 a.m. until 1 p.m. and then the place is dead. It’s a waste.”

Surprise touched her pale face. “Impressive.”

“I told you I’m serious about this team, Forster. Anything the men have, we’ll have. I’m investing.” I ticked off on my fingers. “New kits, gym equipment, coaching …”

A strange silence echoed from the empty stands. The delicious scent of freshly cut turf filled my nose. I’d loved this stadium on match nights when fans packed every inch, chanting. I’d always dreamed of playing my first match here, back when I’d still thought I had a chance of making it as a professional player.

Miri flashed a glance at the camera crew that trailed my every move and squirmed. I gave Curtis, the producer, a polite nod. “Excuse us for a second.”

I took Miri by the elbow, guided her out of earshot of the cameras, and dropped my voice low. “I’m not a fan of the cameras either, but the documentary is to raise awareness. I want to pull in sponsorship money. The community needs to know what we’re doing here. The more we get local supporters behind us, the better the atmosphere. It will be great for morale.”

A slight smile of defiance curved her lips. “You’re certainly saying all the right things.”

Why was this woman so resistant? She should have been biting my hand off to sign this contract by now. I’d got rid of Jerry and offered her a chance to train in world-class facilities. The best facilities in the country. What more did she want?”

She folded her arms. “So, this is real? It’s not a gimmick. You’re serious about women’s football?”

“I’m giving this everything I’ve got. I’m moving this team up to the Women’s Super League. I’m going to see it through. Look, Forster, I know your stats for the season. You’ve scored a lot of goals, but it’s only a fraction of what you should be scoring. I’m willing to bet you’re getting balls that the others can’t even read. You’re too good for the girls you’re playing with. If you had better players around you, you’d get more chances on goals.”

She stiffened her spine. Her eyes flashed with fire. “I’m playing with my best friends. We’ve won together and we’ve lost together. I love playing with the Swans.”

I smoothed my tie. Okay. She was loyal. Wrong angle. “Your loyalty is admirable, but this is your career, not summer camp. My job is to uncover potential. You need the right environment and support, and you could go all the way. We’re talking about playing in stadiums like this … playing for England. Your friends would want to see you reach your potential.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again. I’d got her on the back foot with that. Time to go for the jugular. I kept my voice casual. “It’s not standard, but I’m willing to negotiate a signing-on fee.”

“How much?”

“Name your price.”

She swallowed and kept her eyes fixed on the grass. Uncertainty crept into her expression. “Ten thousand?”

It was a lot for a new signing to the women’s team, but much less than we’d offer the men.

“Fine,” I said.

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