Page 63 of Last Line of Defense

Her words fill my body with a comforting warmth. I reach my hand under the mahogany table and discreetly brush her fingers. Alicia, in a reflexive motion, instantly intertwines her fingers with mine, squeezing my hand with brutal force, transmitting all the energy in the world to me.

After so many months of futile efforts to suppress our attraction, of hiding in corners and trying to distance ourselves from one another, love has finally exploded in front of everyone. And I will not allow, under any circumstances, this wonderful madness to sink into the mud like it did with Charlotte in the past. Not this time. This time we’re going all in, no matter who stands in our way.

24

No Safety Net

Alicia

Bruno’s office always has that heavy atmosphere, as if the air were thick with the clauses and zeros of the contracts negotiated here. It’s the place where they decide whether you’re a star or finished, a place where they talk about numbers that seem straight out of a science fiction movie. But this morning, all those trappings roll right off me; the contracts, the sponsors, and the absurd commissions don’t mean a thing to me. My head, my heart, and every last breath in my body are focused on one person: Clara. She left the club for me. She threw her career away to save mine, to keep those vultures from slapping that “troublemaker” label on me again.

Ever since we returned to our normal routine, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. No matter how hard I try to distract myself, the thought is still there, lodged beneath my ribs, stirring up an unbearable mix of blind rage and guilt.

I rest my head against the back of the leather sofa as I watch Bruno, who’s pacing back and forth across the office like a caged lion, his phone pressed to his ear. He’s been arguing with someone from marketing for ten minutes now, and I can barely follow the conversation. My fingers fiddle with a bottle of ice-cold water, twirling it over and over, while my knee throbs with a rhythmic twinge—a constant reminder of everything I’m about to lose if I don’t get my act together. Although, for the first time in my life, soccer isn’t the center of my existence, and that’s what scares the hell out of me.

“Yeah, damn it, I know they want absolute exclusivity,” Bruno growls in a weary voice before reluctantly hanging up the phone. “But Alicia isn’t going to shoot any fucking commercial this week. Or next week. Period.”

He hangs up, flings the phone onto the table, and fixes his gaze on me.

“What did they want this time?” I ask curiously. Over the last few days, several sports brands have been contacting him, wanting me to be their main spokesperson. I’ve lost count. “Because for you to tell them to fuck off, it must be total garbage.”

“They were the competition for the sunscreen brand you sponsor.”

“Now I get it…” I murmur, closing my eyes and letting out a deep sigh that doesn’t manage to relax my muscles. I haven’t slept in days; my whole body is tense, and I seriously doubt that’s going to change. “Why did you call me here?”

He slumps into the armchair across from me and loosens his tie. Bruno always looks like he’s on the verge of a breakdown: deep dark circles under his eyes, two-day stubble, and that habit of rubbing his forehead whenever he senses a catastrophe. And with me, catastrophe is his natural state.

“Do you want to tell me what the hell happened?” he asks in a much softer tone, leaning forward with both arms on his knees. “The club’s press officer called me to say that Clara quit because of you. And then there’s that dead-as-a-doornail look on your face…”

Alba, the captain, was right when she said rumors spread as fast as a sigh. I glance down at the bottle and weigh the possibility of telling a lie. I could come up with some cheap excuse, but I’m sick of hiding how I feel, tired of swallowing every blow while the world decides what kind of person I am.

“Yes, Clara resigned…” I finally confess in a whisper.

“I truly hoped it was just an unfounded rumor.”

The word “rumor” turns my stomach. Rumors about my strong personality, about my injuries, about supposed fights in the locker room or made-up relationships. Rumors about coaches who’ve turned against me because I’m a troublemaker, when the reality is much dirtier, more painful, and, above all, much more human. My entire career is built on that mountain of shit they call rumors.

“And yes, she did it for me,” I murmur, feeling my voice crack. “But before you treat me like a little girl, let me tell you that she made that decision on her own, to protect me.”

“Alicia, please…”

Silence settles over the office. Outside, through the large windows, the city continues at its frenetic pace. I can still picture Clara’s expression as she announced her resignation, the trembling of her hands, the way she looked at me as if I were the only thing that mattered in this world.

I run a hand over the back of my neck, trying to release the tension.

“I’m sick of all this shit, Bruno. Really sick of it.”

He remains silent, waiting, giving me the space I need to let it all out.

“I’m sick of having to keep my mouth shut while they make up crap about me. In this sport, every time a woman shows some backbone, they automatically turn her into a danger, a threat. And you know what’s worse? The worst part isn’t that—the worst part is that, in the end, you end up believing it and accepting that image because it’s easier to let them label you a troublemaker than to have to explain your side of the story.”

Bruno rests his forearms on his knees, completely focused.

“I know this isn’t directly related, but… what happened with your previous coach?”

The question stings like a needle piercing my skin. I look toward the shelf, at the trophies and the photos of my goals. For years, I’ve avoided talking about it because every time I do, I feel small, dirty, and guilty. Clara is the only person I’ve ever told.

“He sexually assaulted me,” I finally blurt out, my voice barely above a whisper. “He made me believe that if I didn’t go along with his games, my career would end right then and there. At first, I gave in out of fear—out of panic at losing everything—but there came a point when I snapped. When I rejected him… everything went to hell. False accusations, rumors of instability, covert punishments. It was hell. Or rather, the beginning of my personal hell.”