Player's Ultimatum (23 page)

Yvonne and Keitha, stil standing from the first goal, turned to each other and screamed before fal ing onto each other’s arms.

“Come on let’s go meet them on the field before al hel breaks loose.” Keitha grabbed Yvonne’s hand and led the way. They showed their family passes to the security guards and were allowed to enter the field.

There were stil two minutes on the clock, but most of it was eaten as the players tried to regroup for kick-off. As the clock clicked down to zero, the crowd came to the feet. And as expected the stadium fel into pandemonium. Dozens of cannons placed strategical y around the arena exploded in red and black confet i, showering fans and players alike with Internazionale colors.

“Look.”

Keitha pointed to the southern end of the field where about a dozen or so fans stood wearing pink t-shirts and holding large white poster boards. One by one they turned them over until a sentence was spelled.

Will You Marry Me? Paulo

Yvonne’s mouth dropped open. Paulo stood in the center of the field with his teammates flanking him. A lit le black box rested in the palm of his hand.

Keitha looked at her, then at the message, then back at Paulo. “Oh. My God! He’s going to propose!” Yvonne’s legs shook so badly she didn’t know how she held up on the long walk to center field. Paolo walked toward her as if to meet her half way. Yvonne resisted the urge to pinch herself. This couldn’t be happening. Fairytale proposals only happened to other women not plain ole’ Yvonne Floyd.

Before he cleared midfield, Paolo stopped. He reached out, grabbed Robbie around the neck and crushed his mouth against his. Even though it appeared to be closed mouthed, a collective gasp rippled through the arena.

“Oh, boy,” Keitha said. “I sure didn’t see this coming.”

Neither did Yvonne. Feeling duped by not only her lover, but her best friend, she turned on her heels and left the two most important men in her life in each other’s arms.

* * * * *

More than four dozen reporters had pushed their way into the after-game press conference. Some of them Paolo recognized others he did not. He wouldn’t be surprised if half of them weren’t even sports reporters. Word had spread quickly about a surprise marriage proposal and Europe’s best football team’s star players wrapped in a passionate kiss. Wel maybe not so passionate. No tongue had been involved and he’d kept his hands above the waist.

Al the same Paolo’s plan had fallen into place. Al the key players were in place. On his right, Stefano sat stoned faced. On his left, Robbie looked like a jaguar in headlights. Maggione stood on the far side of the room with a thunderous expression on his face. And a sea of curious onlookers with the world’s ear at their fingertips sat before him.

Stefano called on Price Quimby first. The sports writer’s column could fil stadium seats or leave them bare. More than one mil ion readers read his wit y exposes about the ins and outs of Europe’s footbal teams on a monthly basis. The fair-haired Brit stood up notepad in hand.

“First I like to say a lovely match. One of the best I’ve seen in quite some time.” Quimby paused to scratch his chin. “Um…

this question is for you Saito.”

Time to play ball!
Paolo leaned forward to adjust his microphone.

“Was there a meaning behind the kiss?”

Paolo pretended to consider the question. “No comment,” he said then sat back.

Quimby’s eyebrow shot skyward as the collective sat forward, practically on the edge of their seats. “So you just like to kiss your
male
teammates and propose to them as wel ?”

“No comment.”

Price Quimby didn’t give up. He hadn’t gained a legion of readers from lack of tenacity. “Don’t you think you owe your fans an explanation? What about your bosses? They don’t seem very pleased by this sudden display of affection during such a momentous occasion.”

Paolo shrugged. “It’s no one’s business who I sleep with, who I love or even what I eat for breakfast. My contract, which wil be fulfilled at the end of this season, only entitles me to play footbal , not to act as a role model or moral compass for anyone.”

His statement produced a flurry of pencils flying across notepads and fingers tapping on the keys of cel ular phones. After Price sat down, Stefano called on Anita

Sanchez a reporter from one of the Latin American television networks.

“This question is for Roma
Internazionale
management.” Paolo glanced over at an uncomfortable looking Maggione. “Wil this have any bearing on the upcoming free agency of your two star players?” Before Maggione answered the question, a reporter in the back held up his Smartphone. “The Edmonton Druids just tweeted they’l take Saito and Gutierrez, man love and al ! They want the European Cup next year.” Al eyes turned to Maggione for his answer. A muscle ticked in the older man’s jaw. A move to the U.K. wouldn’t be so bad, Paolo mused.

“As Paolo said,” Maggione pulled on his silk tie, loosening the knot. “Their personal lives are personal. What they do off the pitch does not play into the outcome of today’s match or even the season. I plan on re-signing both players at the end of the season.”

In Paolo’s book, the press conference essential y ended with Maggione’s declaration. Being from the old school,
Roma
Internazionale’s
owner was a man of his word. Both he and Robbie’s contracts were as good as signed. Tired of the media circus, Paolo pushed back from the press table.

He had a wedding to plan.

* * * * *

Yvonne had no problem making it back to her hotel room. Most of Barcelona seemed to be either at the arena or watching the game on television. While she packed, she’d called Nico Matteo and taken him up on his offer. Ecstatic over the news, Matteo had provided her with temporary accommodations at his palazzo until she procured her own, which wouldn’t be too hard considering Robbie had just repaid her student loan and Matteo’s offer came with a salary just shy of six figures.

Before she threw something or broke down into tears, Yvonne pushed Robbie out of her head. He and Paolo’s relationship had been unexpected and heartbreaking. Even now, two weeks later and several hundred miles separating them, she could barely filter that fateful day’s events through her head without having difficulty breathing or shedding tears.

Hopeful y with time and some distance, she would be able to get over Robbie’s betrayal and her love feelings for Paolo.

Yvonne slid from behind her desk and stalked over to the panel of windows overlooking Venice.

“Who am I kidding,” she whispered, barely seeing the Port of Venice in the distance. She would need more than two weeks to get over Paolo Saito, if not months or even years considering she had his child growing inside of her. He’d wheedled his way into her heart like no man had ever done before and she’d never be the same.

Yvonne reached up and wiped away a tear.

Beep

“
Signorina
Floyd, the board of directors meeting starts in ten minutes.”

“Thanks, Carmen. I’m on my way.”

Yvonne walked over to her desk and checked her face. Thank goodness, her temporary flight of fancy hadn’t mussed up her makeup. She didn’t want to be late for her first meeting with the higher ups. Al eight board members would be there along with Nico Matteo and some unknown partner, who before today barely attended any business meetings.

Arriving early and unsure of where to sit, Yvonne decided to prepare herself a cup of cappuccino and then take the lead from there. Plus, she would have the opportunity to watch and observe everyone as they came into the room.

Like the rest of Nico Acqua’s offices, the espresso service fol owed the same elegant, modern lines. Wrapped in stainless steel replete with all the bel s and whistles, pristine white cups sat in the machines warmer. Ful y automatic, the thing had to be a work of beauty.

As she reached for a cup, her whole world col apsed. “Isn’t caffeine off-limits during one’s pregnancy?” Yvonne didn’t even bother turning around, she could recognize the sultry accented cadences of his voice even in a crowded room. And to her consternation, she felt they’re being al alone like a weight on her shoulders. Needing a safe outlet, she prepared herself a cup of cappuccino with a healthy dose of whole milk.

“Looking to get the same deal I worked out for your boyfriend?”

Yvonne turned around slowly. She’d barely taken a sip of her milk with a splash of espresso and she was already buzzing. Of course the cause of her natural high had nothing to do with her drink but the man walking along the other side of the conference table, his fingertips grazing the bamboo surface. She ignored her trembling fingers and the blood pounding in her ears.

“Yvonne, I co-own Nico Acqua. I’m not here to work out any deals…at least none concerning business.” Surprised by the news, Yvonne stuttered, “T-t-then what are you doing here?”

“You left Rome without tel ing anyone where you were going.”

He was concerned about her whereabouts?!
Yvonne felt the first crack fissure the wal she’d erected, but she refused to crumble. “Wel now you know I’m in Venice, now go back to your boyfriend.”

“You didn’t come back so I came to get you.”

Robbie isn’t my boyfriend or my lover. It was the best way I could ensure he had a contract by the end of the season. So I supplied a large enough incentive that Maggione wouldn’t fail to offer him a multi-year contract.” Heart racing and her fingers stiffer than a data entry clerks, Yvonne set her cup down on the counter before she dropped it.

She hated to admit it but she was almost buying his explanation. “So you decided to kiss him in front of forty mil ion people and jeopardize your career.”

Paolo took his time rounding the table as if not trying to scare her off. The closer he came her hormones ran to their bat le stations. Her body temperature, already erratic from the pregnancy, had already started to escalate causing sweat to bead along her upper lip and across her brow. Foregoing makeup in her first trimester, Yvonne didn’t hesitate to wipe at the unwanted show of nerves.

“I needed to make amends for what I did to him, you and João.”

Who is João?
It better not be another woman or this conversation was so over. “Amends, for what?”

“Blackmailing you and trying my best to ruin Robbie by outing him to the press.”
Outing Robbie? What was he talking
about?
Sensing her confusion, Paolo continued. “In some crazy and roundabout way, I blamed Robbie for my best friend’s João Schmit ’s death. In actuality it was more my fault than anyone else’s.” Sighing heavily, Paolo spun around one of the conference chairs and sat down. “He came out to me two summers ago and how he was going to marry one of our former teammates back home in Brazil. He asked me to be his best man.” As he stared down at the floor, his hand shook as he wiped his mouth. Sympathizing with al the despair, he must surely feel Yvonne pushed away from the counter.

“I refused. He accused me of letting him down much like his own family who’d disowned him years before. We didn’t speak from that day forward. Even though I didn’t tel anyone, I’m sure he expected I would. He became erratic; he lost his spot on the team. Four months later, his mother called. He’d put a gun in his mouth.” Unsure of what to say, Yvonne reached out and took his hand in hers. He gripped her as if holding on for dear life.

“I’ve done things I haven’t been proud of, but I beg that you forgive me.” He let go of her hand and dropped to his knees, his head resting against her small bump, their baby. Despite the circumstances, Yvonne couldn’t deny the way her body came to life at his touch. Even pregnant she’d al ow him to throw her onto the conference table. “I’m in love with you. I want us to make a life together—you, me and the baby.”

Yvonne ignored the tears stinging the corners of her eyes, pushing back slightly she gazed down at him. She needed to make sure they were on the same page. “Is that a marriage proposal? I love you and all, but I’m not going to set le for less than the full ride.”

Paulo fumbled in his pants pocket. With each passing mil isecond, Yvonne’s heart wedged its way north.
Oh, me or my!
He’d bought her a diamond the size of a smal third world country. Wel … not quite, but the square-cut diamond was close in Yvonne’s book.

Robbie’s ring long gone and shipped back to its original owner, Paolo slipped the gem on her ring finger with ease.

Unbeknownst to the both of them, the board of directors along with Nico Matteo had filed in quietly. As soon as the ring fel into place, they erupted into ecstatic applause and wel wishes.

Stil , Yvonne only had eyes for Paolo who slowly came to his feet. He was her point of reference in a now spinning world.

Thankful y and before she toppled over, he enfolded her in his arms and crushed his mouth against hers.

Four months later

“You promised you wouldn’t bring your laptop.” Paulo reminded placing his chin on Yvonne’s shoulder. He was sitting behind her on their bed, his arms wrapped lovingly around what used to be her waist.

“I needed to come up for air some time. We’ve done nothing but bumping uglies for the past four days.” Paulo snatched the leg she was leaning on out from under her, sending her sprawling on the bed. His hand slid between her legs, causing her eyes to dilate with desire. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing on our honeymoon? Bumping uglies.” Paulo bent down for a kiss, but his advance was thwarted by her computer.

“Aren’t you interested in knowing what the press has printed about our surprise wedding?”

“Nope.” Paulo moved her life line to the world aside and planted a kiss in the hol ow over her neck. Yvonne’s limbs grew weak and she melted down into the wel -used mat ress. Despite her words to the contrary, she would never get used to his passion and would always want more.

“I’m not actual y interested either, just doing my job. He’s my client you know, al twenty mil ion whopping euros of him.”

“I’m your client now as wel and my ninety-eight mil ion euros are demanding some one-on-one attention.” Paulo growled as he nipped her ear.