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And then it was all over, and we’d officially finished in eighth place in the Premier League.
Fucking incredible.
Back in the dressing room, Harvey had nothing but praise for the team.
Or so I thought.
* * *
I shifted in my seat, clenching and unclenching my fists. Next to me, Theo was, of course, completely cool and calm—outwardly, at least.
Across the table, Harvey, Rory, and Amir stared at us in silence, identical serious expressions on their faces.
“Here’s the thing,” Harvey finally said. “I have a dilemma. Both of you are extremely talented players, but you’ve been causing me problems all season with your reckless behaviour.” He levelled me with a look that managed to convey anger, disappointment, and sadness all at once. “You’ve been in the headlines more often than not, especially you, Emery. Then there are all the issues between the two of you that don’t make the headlines. I heard about your little altercation last week, for example. Grant’s very concerned about your failure to put aside your differences, and the things he’s told me have only reinforced my own concerns.”
Shit. This was not good. Not at all.
Harvey leaned back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest. “So here’s my dilemma. Do I cut my losses and find replacements for one or both of you?”
Bile rose in my throat. “No. Please.” I leaned forwards in my chair, planting my hands on the table. They were fucking shaking. “We—”
Harvey held up his hand. “I haven’t finished. Today’s match showed me that there is hope of you working together, given the right incentive. So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to work on your shit during the off-season, and when we come back in August, you’re going to work in perfect harmony, and you’re going to be as friendly with each other as you are with the rest of your teammates. Do I make myself clear?”
I nodded violently. “Yeah. Clear. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Theo, who had remained silent, cleared his throat. When he spoke, I detected a tiny tremor in his voice, the only way I could tell that he was as affected as I was. “Clear. I have a question, though. How, exactly, are we to be expected to ‘work on our shit’?”
A smile appeared on Harvey’s face, and it was one of those sadistic smiles he used whenever he wanted us to do something torturous in our training sessions. “I’ll let your agents give you the details. They came up with the idea, after all.”
Rory glanced at Amir, who gave a small nod, and then he directed his gaze first at Theo, then at me. His own expression remained serious, and the look in his eyes told me that I wasn’t going to like what he was about to tell me.
“Have either of you heard of Black Diamond Resort?”
PART2
11
JORDAN
At first glance, the island looked like paradise, with soft white sands, palm trees, turquoise seas, and a fresh, tropical breeze in the air. But it was the furthest thing from paradise. To begin with, my travel companion was a Mr. Theodore Lewin, who happened to be the one person I couldn’t stand to be in the presence of. The second, and maybe even worse thing, was that we’d both been sent to fucking rehab.
Rehab.
What the actual fuck?
Apparently, Rory had a friend he’d been at Cambridge uni with, and he’d called in a favour. His friend happened to own the land that this rehabilitation centre masquerading as a luxury resort was squatting on, and so here we were. It was a retreat for elite, rich assholes, and it was going to be my home for the next few weeks while I worked on my “issues.”
From what Rory had told me, I knew that the island itself was somewhere in French Polynesia in the South Pacific, and it had been a long fucking journey to get here. Thank fuck that whoever had made our travel arrangements had the good sense to seat me and Theo as far apart as possible.
Being apart from each other was the only upside. We’d flown first class by commercial plane to the USA—LAX—then had to switch planes to fly to Tahiti. That in itself had taken a total oftwenty-three fucking hours. But that wasn’t even the end of the journey. We’d barely even set foot in the airport when we’d been whisked off to a small private plane, which took us to our final destination.
Black Diamond Resort and Spa.
The island was split in two by a mountain range, with emerald-green hills, lush jungle, and high cliffs and sandy beaches on both sides. One side of the island had an actual luxury resort, and the side I was unlucky enough to be on was the rehab side—or the recovery centre, as it was known. Both sides of the island officially had the same name, which Rory said was to protect the privacy of the rich and famous when they were here to seek help.
A “Black Diamond Intake Liaison” named Lawrence Shaw had taken me by golf cart to the main building so I could check in. As for my unwanted travel companion? I’d heard him complaining about feeling sick during the last part of our journey, and then he’d actually thrown up.Sucks to be him. I didn’t know or care where he’d been taken. As long as it was away from me, I was good with it.
When the cart came to a stop, Lawrence turned to me. “This is the main building, where you’ll check in at the front desk. It houses the health centre with the gym and indoor pool, as well as the therapists’ offices, group therapy rooms, and the restaurants.”
