2. Sebastian
two
Sebastian
“This is what men my age do,” I mutter, tossing the magazine aside.
Jimmy’s laughter echoes down the corridor, loud and relentless.
“Most men your age aren’t world-famous soccer players,” he calls back, stepping into the room with a coffee in hand. “When they screw up, they don’t end up plastered across the front page of a gossip rag.”
He picks up the magazine I discarded, shaking his head with mock disappointment.
“My life is my business,” I snap, clenching my jaw.
“That’s where you’re wrong, and you know it. You could sneeze, and it’d be on the morning news.”
I rake my fingers through my hair, staring at the table. For a moment, the thought of banging my head against it feels oddly appealing .
“So what am I supposed to do? Stop dating entirely?” The words sound absurd even to me.
Jimmy sighs, setting his coffee down. “A different girl every night isn’t dating, Sebastian. It’s reckless, and it’s killing your reputation. The tabloids love it, but your sponsors? Not so much.”
He places his hands firmly on my shoulders, his tone softening. “You’ve got to cut it out, kid.”
Jimmy has been with me for years. He’s not just my advisor or attorney; he’s a father figure, someone I trust more than anyone else.
Before I can respond, Jimmy’s phone buzzes. He raises a finger, silencing me as he answers.
“It’s for you,” he says, handing me the phone with a cryptic expression.
“Sebastian,” a familiar, firm voice greets me on the other end.
“Sam,” I reply cautiously. “How are you doing?”
“Let’s skip the pleasantries. Castio’s. One hour. Don’t be late.”
The line clicks dead before I can respond. I lower the phone, rubbing my temples.
Jimmy meets my eyes, sympathy etched across his face. “Sam?”
I nod, already dreading the encounter .
“You want me to come along?” he asks, but his tone suggests he already knows my answer.
“You know what? This is between you two,” he says before I can reply. Grabbing his jacket, he heads for the door. “Good luck, kid. You’ll need it. Ciao!”
The weight of the impending meeting settles over me like a dark cloud. No conversation with Sam has ever been pleasant. As my father’s attorney, he’s blunt, relentless, and never sugarcoats the truth. And by choosing Castio’s—a busy, public restaurant—he’s ensured I won’t risk making a scene.
When I arrive, Sam is already seated, his usual scowl in place.
“Good to see you, Sam,” I greet him, forcing a smile.
“If only I could say the same. Everywhere I turn, I see your face,” he says, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.
“Perks of being famous, right?” I smirk.
“Being famous for all the wrong reasons is nothing to be proud of, Sebastian.” His piercing gaze holds mine for a beat too long before he waves over the waiter.
“What are you having?” Sam asks, his tone sharp.
“I’ll just have a scotch. I’m not hungry.”
Sam raises an eyebrow, dismissing the waiter with a gesture. “You’re going to sit here, eat a proper meal, and listen to what I have to say. Understood? ”
I sigh, nodding reluctantly. “Fine. I’ll have the steak.”
“That’s my boy.” Sam’s demeanor softens momentarily as he taps my hand and orders for us both.
The meal passes in strained silence. I chew my steak mechanically, trying to prepare for whatever bombshell Sam is about to drop.
Finally, after his last bite of pasta, he pushes his plate aside and places a thick file on the table.
“Open it,” he instructs, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
My stomach churns as I flip through the pages. The words blur together, but the message is crystal clear. My inheritance—my birthright—is on the line.
My chest tightens as I see the bottom line: a number so substantial, it makes my head spin. Losing this isn’t an option.
Sam sits back, watching my reaction with his signature calm intensity.
“You’ve got some tough decisions to make, Sebastian,” he says quietly. “Let’s hope you make the right ones.”
I sit there, the weight of the file pressing down on me, as the realization sinks in: my life, my future—it’s all hanging by a thread.
I close the file and shove it across the table toward Sam .
“This is nonsense. You can’t do that,” I say, leaning back and folding my arms.
“Dessert?” Sam asks casually, as if I hadn’t spoken.
“Are you even listening to me?” My voice rises, but Sam remains unfazed.
“Rules are rules, Sebastian,” he replies calmly, his tone maddeningly polite.
“You’re taking away my inheritance because of some stupid magazine articles?”
“It’s not just one article,” he says, leaning forward. “You’ve been a constant presence in every tabloid for the past twelve months. Your father has had enough.”
His words hit me like a punch. I feel like a bird trapped in a cage, my freedom dangling by a thread.
“Your father has always been a class act. Not one man in your family has ever made the papers for being a playboy.”
Just then, the waiter places Sam’s chocolate mousse in front of him, and he digs in with unnerving calmness.
“And what if I refuse? What happens to the money then?” I ask, slamming my hands on the table. A few heads turn, and I lower my voice, frustrated.
“If you refuse, your inheritance will be divided among the rest of the family. You won’t see a dime.” Sam savors another bite of his dessert, entirely unbothered by my growing fury .
“This is ridiculous.”
“Believe it or not,” he says, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin, “you have one week to decide what you want to do. If you don’t get your act together, you can kiss your inheritance goodbye.”
“And how, exactly, do you expect me to do that?” I ask, leaning forward. “I’m still having fun.”
“No one’s asking you to settle down completely, but maybe—just maybe—you could find yourself a decent girl for once.”
I groan and run a hand through my hair. “What difference would that make?”
“It’d give your fans something to root for and keep you out of the tabloids. Then the media could focus on your game instead of your dating life.”
“You mean headlines about my performance on the field?”
“Exactly!” Sam snaps his fingers. “Imagine it now: Sebastian Kane scores a hat trick! Wouldn’t that be a refreshing change?”
I exhale sharply, knowing this won’t be easy but seeing no other option.
“So, what’s it going to be?” Sam fixes me with a stern look, and I feel the weight of the ultimatum pressing down on me.
I sigh. “How am I supposed to get into a relationship in a week? ”
“With your track record, it shouldn’t be that hard,” he says, laughing at his own joke.
“You know what I mean, Sam. How am I supposed to do this seriously?”
He stands, buttoning his jacket. “If you want a serious relationship, Sebastian, you need to start taking life seriously. That’s the first step.”
Sam pulls out a few hundred-dollar bills and tosses them onto the table. “I wish you luck. You’re going to need it.”
With that, he leaves, and I’m alone with my thoughts and the crushing realization that my life is spiraling out of control. There’s not a bone in my body that is ready for a serious relationship, but I know I have to do something that will ensure I’m not struck from my father’s will.
Back at the apartment, Jimmy takes one look at my face and whistles. “That bad, huh?”
I collapse onto the couch without a word. Jimmy tosses a paper onto the coffee table.
“You might want to see this,” he says.
I lean forward and open it, expecting the usual fluff about my social life. Instead, I find an analysis of my last season—and it’s brutal.
“You didn’t score well,” Jimmy says matter-of-factly .
“And they’re blaming it on my social life?” I snap, throwing the paper down.
“If you don’t take this season seriously, I’m afraid they might replace you.”
I narrow my eyes. “Who have you been talking to?”
“Winston,” he admits.
Winston, my former manager, always knows what’s going on behind closed doors.
“He says the competition this year is fierce, and if you don’t turn things around, you’re done.”
I rub my temples, the pressure mounting. Jimmy isn’t wrong. I’ve been too caught up in my personal life to give my game the focus it deserves. Now, everyone’s noticing.
Taking a deep breath, I feel the weight of the decision before me. On one hand, I could continue living recklessly, knowing it’s destroying everything I’ve built. Or, I could change—sacrifice the distractions for the career and future I’ve always dreamed of.
Jimmy watches me silently as I stare at the paper.
“I have to fix this,” I finally say, the determination in my voice surprising even me.
Jimmy nods. “Then you’d better start now. ”
The more I thought about it, the clearer it became—it wasn’t a hard decision at all. The real challenge was figuring out where I could find someone willing to be in a committed relationship with me.
It’s not like I have trouble meeting women. I’ve dated some of the most stunning women in the country. The problem isn’t attracting them—it’s finding someone who actually wants to stay.