Page 22 of Forbid It

thanks all

I ignore the Cassandra comments. I already know they’ll be like a dog with a bone as soon as they find out we’re being forced into the same rooms.

Speaking of Cassie, she’s, of course, the first person I see when I walk into the stadium lounge. She’s standing against the bar, her red curls bouncing over her shoulders as her delicate hand covers her laugh. There’s a small brunette next to her, the freckles dotted across her cheeks visible from across the room. The girl spots me and turns to Cassie, widening her eyes in a move I assume she thinks is subtle.

I almost want to cross the room to her side, but her father blocks my path before I remember that I shouldn’t.

“Great game today, King.” He slaps my shoulder with a strong hand, almost enough to knock me off my feet if I hadn’t braced myself.

“Thanks sir,” I tell him. “I’m about to head home. Still wrapping my head around the extra time with traff⁠—”

“Nonsense, let me introduce you to some people.” He plants his hand on the back of my shoulder and guides me across the room, introducing me to a bunch of suits. At least one of them is wearing a cowboy hat. In LA.

I keep my media-trained smile stuck on my face as I make small talk with them all.

We made it a bit harder for ourselves than we needed to but at the end of the day…

Hoping to do good things this season…

The lads will need to work hard as a unit…

I hear a tinkling laugh across the room and without looking, I just know it’s her. It’s the same smoky, sultry chuckle I heard the first night we met, and my head turns in her direction like a magnet.

I finally manage to extract myself from the masses under the guise of grabbing a drink and make my way over to the bar.

The bar is a few meters long, but I can’t help myself from approaching it just behind Cassie. She’s in cream wide leg trousers and a tight matching waistcoat. She leans forward into the bar, her curls gliding across her shoulders, exposing a slip of her pale back, and her red tipped shoes flick up as she cocks her hip.

I can sense the second she notices me, her smile freezing on her face slightly. She composes herself quickly, flicking her hair and billowing the tantalizing scent of her shampoo over me. “Hello, Bert.”

I tilt my head. “Sandra.”

Her friend giggles before extending her hand to me. “Anya. Nice to meet you.”

I return her friendly smile and shake her hand. “Robbie. Did you enjoy the game?”

Anya laughs again, glancing at Cassie. “Yeah, I wasn’t much help though, I’m afraid. I’ve never seen a real game of football in my life.”

“Oh, someone needed help?” I peer down at Cassie, who takes another gulp of her drink.

“It’s not my fault it’s not a normal sport.”

“Cassie doesn’t believe that football is the most famous sport in the world.” Anya takes another sip, the giant rock on her left hand glinting in the lights.

“Sacrilege.” I raise my eyebrows.

“Hey, at least I’m calling it football.” Cassie draws out the word.

Anya snickers. “Literally what 95% of the world population calls it, babe.” She turns to me. “How are you finding playing soccer?”

“Yeah, still not calling it that.” I can’t hide the grimace. “Nice to hear a fellow Brit over here.”

“Oh I’m terribly sorry.” Cassie puts on a pretty good RP accent. “Is my American too gauche for you?”

I can’t help the chuckle that escapes and I can’t help but play into it, even when I know I shouldn’t. I put on a much posher accent than my own, “Entirely.”

She rolls her eyes lightly as she takes another sip of her drink.

“Are you missing home?” Anya asks me so earnestly it almost takes my breath away. I think of the leafy green trees bracketing the narrow winding road on the way to my parents house, the sound of my niece and nephew playing in the garden and my mother singing along to the radio in the kitchen. I miss a home I barely lived in more than the penthouse I owned for most of my career.