Player's Ultimatum (3 page)

* * * * *

Yvonne waited until she and Robbie were in the stadium parking lot before she bombarded him with questions.

“What’s going on between you and Paolo Saito?”

Robbie’s head whipped around. “What do you mean? Who have you been talking to?”

“While I was waiting for you, he held court in the tunnel. One of the reporters asked his opinion of you and he offered up some polite crap that needed a doggy bag.”

Robbie chuckled as he rummaged through his jean pocket for his keys. Finding them, he pressed the key fob, unlocking the doors to his silver Range Rover. “Paolo Saito is a great player,” he said, opening the passenger door for her.

Yvonne didn’t get in. “You’re giving me the same bag? I thought we went way back, Robbie.”

“Way back. You dragged me along when you picked out your first training bra.” Yvonne crossed her arms. “If you don’t fess up, we’l be standing here until next Saturday’s game?” Robbie pretended to bash his forehead against the door panel. “How much am I paying you to pose as my beard…I mean fiancée,” he corrected when she reached out to pinch him.

“For six months of my time, one year’s salary and the down payment on a condo,” Yvonne replied without any qualms. “But that’s beside the point. This is a conversation between best friends not business associates.”

“If I promise to come clean, wil you get in?”

Yvonne placed her foot on the truck’s running board.

“Get in. I’ll tel you al about it on the way home. I don’t want to take the chance of someone overhearing this.” Knowing Robbie would honor his promise, Yvonne climbed into the cab. Robbie shut the door, walked around the car and then got in next to her. He put the key in the ignition, but before starting the car, he turned to her. He deliberated for several seconds then exhaled. “Paolo’s giving me a hard time. Unlike most of the players he hasn’t been very welcoming. He does his best to exclude me from key plays or he contradicts me in team meetings and he barely speaks to me off the pitch.” Yvonne felt her anger boil. Paolo Saito might be beautiful and sexy, but that didn’t stop him from being an asshole.

Robbie patted her knee, pul ing her out of her whoop-ass mood. “Now don’t get your granny panties in a bunch, mama bear.

The guy isn’t al bad.”

Yvonne’s anger waned. Robbie had given her the nickname when they were both kids. Usual y even tempered, she also had a tendency to fly off the handle when it came to her family and friends. To say she was loyal and would fight like a mother bear to protect those she loved was an understatement.

And Robbie always needed defending ever since his Dominican family moved into their al -black neighborhood when he was eight and she eleven. Not only was he the only non-black kid on the block, he’d taken to soccer and shied away from playing with the other boys.

“I just hate players who hate.”

Robbie shook his head. “I doubt Paolo’s jealous of me. I believe his anger stems more from how I came to play on the team than the why.”

“You’re a phenomenal soccer player that’s why you landed a position on the team.”

“It’s great to have someone over here that has my back. When Robbie squeezed her knee, Yvonne placed her hand over his and threaded their fingers together. “I think Paolo’s grievance lies in the fact that I replaced his best friend João Schmitt.” Yvonne remembered the name from the press conference. “He’s holding a grudge against you because the club decided to start you and not him?”

“There’s more to the story,” Robbie said looking out the front windshield. “João was cut from the team. He went into some sort of decline, to the point no other team would pick him up. He returned home and committed suicide.” Yvonne’s mouth dropped open. “He killed himself over not being able to play soccer?

Chuckling, Robbie shook his head. “How many times do I have to tel you? Outside the United States, soccer is like a religion. People live, breathe and die over the sport.”

João Schmit was sure-fire proof, Yvonne mused. Robbie wasn’t much different. Over the years, he’d given up friendships, missed family get-togethers and even lost a few boyfriends all because of soccer.

And to ink a lucrative multi-year professional soccer contract, he’d come up with this elaborate scheme to fool the press, flown her half way around the world and ensconced her in his home.

As if sensing her train of thought, Robbie said, “Have I told you I appreciate what you’re doing for me, mama bear?”

“Every day.” Yvonne nibbled on her bot om lip. “I’ve heard the paparazzi can be pretty persistent, but it can’t be that bad?”

“They beyond persistent,” Robbie sighed. “They hound me day and night, they camp out in front of my house, fol ow me to the grocery store, to the gym, out to eat, everywhere. They’re like the plague. There are times when I don’t even know they’ve fol owed me until I run across my picture in the local gossip rags.”

“They started crossing the line and delving into certain details of my private life. They were printing pictures of me with Chris.

Fed up, I snapped. I at acked a couple of paparazzi, no bodily harm just damaged a few cameras,” he added at Yvonne’s shocked look. “I’ve been warned by the Club. One more incident like that or an unfavorable report in the press and my contract wil not be picked up next season.”

“But you’ve never been ashamed of your relationships.”

“You know I know that, but Rome is stil stuck in the nineteenth century. They might have women exercising in the nude on television, but if you’re openly gay you’re committing blasphemy. And it doesn’t help I live and work right on the Pope’s front door step,” Robbie snorted, final y finding the humor in his predicament.

“This is the twenty-first century. People are more accepting than they were just twenty years ago.”

“Yeah, but this is the home of the Italian stal ion. And according to the general populace, the stal ion shouldn’t be mounting another stal ion.”

“I stil say you should have let me open a can of whoop ass rather than pretend to be your fiancée until you ink what we hope wil be a seven figure contract.”

A smirk lifted Robbie’s lips. “Are you sure
you
aren’t gay? You’ve always had masculine tendencies.” Not judging by the way her body reacted to Paolo Saito. “No way,
hombre
. This beard is strictly dickly.” Robbie’s shoulders bounced with laughter. “So are you stil in?”

“Isn’t what we’re doing a lit le extreme?” Yvonne asked, enunciating her words careful y, as if she spoke to a child.

“Desperate times cal for desperate measures. I’m about to lose my dream. I only have a few more months to prove myself by helping the team win the European Cup. I can’t do that with the media speculating on who I’m sleeping with.” Although deeply touched by his single-minded pursuit, Yvonne stil needed to point out a more rational alternative. “Couldn’t you have taken your relationship underground or stop seeing each other for a while? At least until things died down.”

“Chris returned to the states, soon after the first pictures came out. The media just started wondering why I kept to myself and why I haven’t picked up one of the hundreds of beautiful women who flock around the team.”

“Why didn’t you fake the funk and grab some groupie to play house?”

“There’s no one in the world I trust as much as I trust you. Plus, I’m not a douche. No way am I stringing along some woman to only drop her for my boyfriend again.”

At least he wasn’t heartless. Maybe certifiably insane for coming up with such a ludicrous plan which landed her four thousand miles from home.

“Come on, Yvonne. It’s springtime in Rome. Enjoy the opportunity to live in one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

Also, think about the money you’l earn to pay off your student loans.”

“Ouch, you real y know how to go for the jugular.”

Smiling broadly, Robbie reached up and slid his finger across his throat.

“You were that sure I would drop everything and fly across the ocean to lay up with you?”

“I wouldn’t say that, but I was real y lucky to catch you at the right time. You only have one semester left to earn your MBA and your love life is on hold right now.

So I figured it would be a win-win situation for the both of us.”

Reminded of her lack of a love life, Yvonne groaned, she’d been celibate for over two years.

“Are you going to stick to the script or are you going home?”

Not one to leave a friend in a lurch, even one as big as Robbie’s, Yvonne resigned herself to her fate. “Like glue,” she said, sitting back in the SUV’s hand-tailored leather. Yvonne took several deep breaths, releasing her past and accepting her future.

“We’ve made our bed so it’s time to lie in it.”

“Stop sounding like Ms. Doom and Gloom.” Robbie started the car and placed it in reverse. “This wil be like old times—two fierce bitches hitting the town.”

Yvonne chuckled. “I don’t mind hitting the town. I’m just worried about the repercussions.” Without taking his eyes off the road, Robbie reached out and chucked the bottom of her chin. “If there are any, I’m prepared to carry the ful weight.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. You have way more to lose than I do.”

Yvonne expected Robbie to counter her claims with more of his optimism, he didn’t. Instead, he kept his eyes on the road.

Robbie’s silver Range Rover rumbled over centuries old cobblestones while a light drizzle splattering against the windshield.

The driving rhythm of Brazilian
bossa ova
drowned out the rumble of the vehicle’s engine and the weather. Like the music, Yvonne’s heart pulsated with excitement.

Every morning she would wake up and watch the sunrise over the Colosseum while she sipped on espresso. She could spend her afternoons throwing coins into the Trevi fountain and her evenings trying every wine from the Tuscan Valley to Naples.

She couldn’t wait!

The car slowed and Yvonne sat up. “Home sweet home,” she breathed, stil in awe of the three-story vil a they would share until the end of the footbal season.

This time her mouth didn’t fal open any more when Robbie swung the car into the short driveway, fronted by two heavy oak doors set in a ten-foot wal , bordering the entire property.

And she no longer gasped in wonderment whenever the heavy double doors slid into the wal s to reveal a private courtyard.

Robbie whipped the low-slung truck into the courtyard, but took his time hitting the garage door opener. Thinking nothing of it, Yvonne reached for her door.

“Wait!” Robbie’s arm shot out, blocking her from getting out. “I have a surprise for you.” Nia’s eyes widened. “What kind of surprise?”

“Take a look.”

Yvonne’s mouth dropped open. When they’d left, the garage had been empty except for Robbie’s motorcycle. Now a white E Class Mercedes Benz sat next to it.

“W-what’s that?” she stammered as goose bumps ran down her arms. “And who does it belong to?”

“The team leased it to me after I told them you would be coming over from the states. I had her customized so that’s why it wasn’t here when you arrived.”

Yvonne blinked then blinked again. The Mercedes was stil there! Unable to resist a peek, she jumped out, ran over to the car and cupped her hands over the window. Yvonne inhaled so hard and so fast, she almost swooned. She could smel the newness of the interior even through the separation in the glass.

Yvonne’s smile slowly faded.
Would she would be able to give up this lavish lifestyle once Robbie inked his contract?
She hoped so or she would be applying for a sex change operation as soon as possible!

“You can take it for a spin in the morning. We have the Mid-season gala to attend. You do remember the party tonight?”

“How could I forget that torture,” Yvonne grumbled, fol owing Robbie into the house.

Robbie stopped to open the front door. “The spa wasn’t that bad was it?”

“The haircut and body scrub no, the Brazilian but wax h…e…double hockey sticks yes.”

“It’s not a Brazilian but wax. It’s called a…”

The rest of whatever Robbie had to say became background noise the moment he opened the front door. As always Yvonne found herself drawn by the quiet beauty of the vil as’ cool interior comprised of gleaming ebony wood floors and al white decor.

What looked like an ordinary three-story vil a with a faded stucco façade and red tiled roof was in actuality a chic bachelor pad. Though sparse in superfluous decoration, the furniture was top quality and expensive.

Crème-colored goatskin rugs were thrown about haphazardly al owing the beautiful y crafted floors to peek through. Cubist-inspired paintings dotted the living room wal s while two kidney-shaped couches faced a large look-through fireplace.

“I’m going upstairs to catch a little shut eye.”

“You can take a short nap but the limo arrives at seven.”

“Don’t worry, I’l be ready.” Yvonne mental y calculated the time. If she went upstairs now, took a shower, she could lay down for a couple of hours.

Yvonne climbed the stairs to the second landing. Taking a deep breath, she palmed the glass knob and went inside. Unlike the rest of the house’s cool elegance, her bedroom had been designed with her in mind.

Like a hot-house flower, the room was fit for a sultan or pasha. Multi-colored curtains made of sheer gauze trailed from the vaulted ceiling and draped around the large bed, giving her some privacy from the rest of the room.

With a cat-got-the-mouse grin, Yvonne climbed on top of the bed. As she stretched out on the cool satin duvet threaded with silver and gold thread, she moaned.

“I can so get used to this,” she whispered, making satin angels in the spread, her arms and legs akimbo.

Lying there reveling in her supreme luck, Yvonne’s eyes drooped, grew heavy. She’d take a shower later. As she snuggled into the coverlet, her last waking thought involved a certain Brazilian soccer player.

*****

“Please make yourself at home.” The butler waved his hand toward a group of chairs set in front of a large desk. “
Signor
Saito wil be down shortly.”

Instead of affording himself of his client’s hospitality, Joaquin Malfi continued to stand in the middle of the room. Of course, this wasn’t his first visit since accepting the assignment more than five months ago, but as a man of limited means Joaquin was afraid he might break something. Considering the opulent accoutrements in the home of one of Europe’s highest paid footbal players, he knew he couldn’t afford to replace anything if he did.