Match Point

Chapter 21

21

A grand Victorian manor house set in a sprawling secluded estate, the whole of Warren House Hotel has been hired for the event tonight. There’s a red carpet but no paparazzi, just the official photographers hired by the organisers, and the ballroom looks spectacular with dozens of flickering candles and extravagant green and purple flower arrangements on display. A string quartet is playing in the far corner and staff are waiting on the entrance to greet you with long-stemmed flutes of Champagne. I gladly take one – I’m going to need as much confidence as I can get at such a glitzy event – while Kieran sticks to a soft drink, fourth round looming over him tomorrow.

From the moment we enter the party, Kieran barely leaves my side. Guiding me through the room with his hand resting protectively on my lower back, he stays next to me as I’m introduced to the chairman and her husband, before his hand returns to the base of my spine and he weaves a path for us through the crowd of glamorous guests to a spot by the window that looks out onto the lawn. Although I may not be a tennis aficionado, I’m still able to appreciate a few of the big sports stars in the room – Serena Williams is about a metre away from me, in conversation – but I’m soon distracted from my celebrity spotting by patrons of the club, keen to introduce themselves. Kieran’s fingers brush against mine as they eagerly ask him questions and, while offering them vague and tentative answers, I notice him continually glancing at me.

At first I think it’s because he’s worried about the fact that I’m out of my comfort zone and don’t know anyone, so I make a huge effort to be as warm and friendly as possible, launching into conversations with other guests nearby in the hope that he’s reassured – I don’t want him feeling like he has to babysit me all night. But I gradually get the feeling that he actually wants to stay close to me out of choice. He’s tense here and more reserved, and I realise that I have the rare privilege of seeing Kieran O’Sullivan at home, relaxed and at ease. Outside those walls, he gives the impression of the person he’s expected to be: moody and cold. But I know now he’s neither of those things, not really.

‘Ah, Kieran, there you are,’ Neil says, appearing next to us. He pats Kieran’s arm, looking relieved. ‘It’s good to see you.’ His eyes flicker to me and his jaw tenses. ‘Flora, nice to see you, too.’

‘Thank you for asking the chairman to let Kieran have a plus-one,’ I say gratefully.

‘Yes, well. I’m not sure Kieran gave me much of a choice,’ he mutters, before clearing his throat. ‘Anyway, lots of people I’d like you to chat with tonight, Kieran, so stay where you are and I’ll find you in a moment.’

‘Can’t wait,’ Kieran says under his breath, rolling his eyes once Neil has left.

‘What did he mean by that?’ I ask, watching him weave through the crowd, looking for someone specific. ‘That you didn’t give him much of a choice.’

‘I said if he couldn’t swing a plus-one for you tonight, then he shouldn’t expect me to show,’ he answers simply, taking a sip of his drink.

‘Kieran! I’m trying to get him to like me! You throwing around diva demands on my behalf won’t help matters.’

His lips twitch. ‘That’s the second time you’ve called me a diva, Flossie. I’m beginning to worry that the first time wasn’t a joke.’

‘Have you met you? You refuse to drink tap water.’

‘I don’t refuse. I just… prefer bottled.’

‘Classic diva excuse.’

He smiles to himself. ‘Anyway, Neil likes you. Who wouldn’t like you?’

‘Uh, you when we first met,’ I remind him haughtily.

‘I didn’t dislike you.’ He hesitates. ‘Okay, maybe a little. But largely because you chucked wine at me. I got over that very quickly and then you just irritated me.’

‘Aw, that’s sweet. I feel so comforted.’

He arches an eyebrow, and lowers his voice. ‘It still didn’t stop me from thinking about you in that towel.’ I feel my cheeks heat while Kieran gives me a meaningful look. ‘Why do you care if Neil likes you anyway?’

‘Because he’s your coach. He’s… important.’

I realise that I’m entering uncharted territory here. I don’t want to lie to him and act as though I don’t care what the people in his life think of me, but I also don’t want to scare him off by acting like a girlfriend hoping for the approval of his friends and family.

‘I just think it would be easier in general if Neil likes me,’ I add. ‘So if he doesn’t want me to come to certain events, then maybe allow it.’

‘I appreciate the suggestion, but I disagree,’ Kieran replies with a shrug.

‘He probably thinks I’m a distraction. A bad one.’

‘Then he’s an idiot.’ Kieran frowns, before he peers down at me. ‘If anything, you make me want to do better.’

There’s something about that look he’s giving me that’s making my heart pound against my chest and sends a tingling warmth swirling through my veins. His gaze has softened now and he’s almost smiling, and it makes me want to throw my arms around him and kiss him tenderly, and tell him that I’m proud of everything he’s achieved. I’m here for him. I’ll keep cheering him on. I’ll hold him if he loses. Whatever he needs. I’m on his side.

Instead, I take a sip of my drink and say, ‘You are playing fairly well at the moment.’

‘Not too bad.’

‘It’s the pre-match blowing bubbles isn’t it.’

He laughs lightly, nodding. ‘The bubbles must be it.’

Someone accidentally knocks into Kieran’s shoulder as they pass by.

‘Sorry, mate – Kieran!’ The man’s apologetic smile falters.

Kieran stiffens, hostility oozing off him. I know the other guy is familiar but it takes a moment for me to realise that it’s Chris Courtney, the Australian tennis player and Kieran’s biggest on-court rival. The one who married Kieran’s ex-girlfriend painfully soon after she and Kieran broke up. While it’s safe to assume that the tabloids occasionally exaggerate or get celebrity private matters wrong, witnessing just one look between these two men is enough to tell me that all those articles about how much they dislike each other are spot on. They’re both so tall that they’re at the same eye level, serving each other the same hard stare. A couple of years older than Kieran, Chris has long, thick fair hair, hazel eyes and soft features. He’s good-looking in a boyishly handsome way.

Easing his shoulders and breaking into an easy-going grin, Chris shoves one hand in his pocket and holds out the other to Kieran. Reluctantly, Kieran takes it and they shake hands. The air between them is so cold, it sends a shiver down my spine.

‘How have you been, mate?’ Chris asks, dropping his hand.

‘Fine, thank you,’ Kieran replies icily.

‘You haven’t been doing too badly this week. Still got a few surprises up your sleeve, eh? Guess we’ll see how long it lasts,’ Chris says, tilting his head. When Kieran doesn’t respond, his eyes drift across to me and widen with intrigue. ‘I’m sorry, very rude of me. I’m Chris Courtney.’

I politely take his outstretched hand. ‘Flora.’

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Flora,’ he says, his hand clasping mine for longer than necessary. He takes the opportunity to look me up and down. ‘A real pleasure.’

‘You too.’

Kieran’s hand is on the small of my back again and I instinctively lean into his side. Chris notices the gesture and looks bemused, putting all his attention on me.

‘Tell me, Flora, what do you do?’ he asks with a flirtatious smile.

‘Oh, um, not much. I was working as a PA, and then—’

‘She’s an artist,’ Kieran cuts in, nudging me with his hip.

‘An aspiring artist,’ I clarify, blushing.

Chris arches an eyebrow. ‘I’m sure you must be very talented.’

‘She is,’ Kieran states.

‘I bet.’ Chris smiles, his eyes roaming down my dress and making my skin crawl. ‘I’d love to see your work sometime. I’ve got a good eye for art, Flora.’

Kieran shifts, the pressure of his hand on my back increasing.

‘Really?’ I say, feigning interest but desperate for him to leave us alone.

‘Around the time I won my first Grand Slam – you remember that, right, Kieran? I think you were there…’ he pauses to wink at me, as Kieran’s jaw twitches ‘…I bought a fascinating piece by a young artist who no one had heard of called Trent Bloom. Now, he’s a major player in the New York art scene. His pieces are selling for hundreds of thousands.’

‘Wow. That’s… amazing.’

‘If you wanted, I could introduce you to some people,’ Chris suggests, taking a sip of his drink and sucking it through his teeth. ‘I know a lot of big names. Just say the word and I’ll set up a meeting.’

‘Oh, uh, thanks, but I’m good,’ I answer.

I hear Kieran exhale quietly next to me, his shoulders dropping.

Watching me curiously, Chris nods. ‘You want to do it your way. I respect that.’ He notices someone waving at him across the room, trying to get his attention and he smiles at me apologetically. ‘Excuse me, I’m wanted elsewhere, but I hope we get to talk again, Flora.’

He leaves, swaggering through the parting crowd to his acquaintance. Kieran watches him go, burning holes into his back.

‘Are you all right?’ I ask cautiously, turning to face him properly and shield him from anyone else.

‘Fine,’ he says gruffly. ‘He’s… grating.’

I snort. ‘One way of putting it. He’s just what I thought he’d be. A smarmy wanker.’

Kieran’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and then he breaks into a wide smile. ‘I know I shouldn’t be pleased that you don’t like him, because that would be petty, but…’ he pauses, his eyes sparkling at me ‘…I’m really fucking glad you don’t like him.’

I laugh. ‘I get why you must hate him, but why is he so against you? Shouldn’t he be really embarrassed about what happened with Rachel? Apologetic about how it played out, or at least being sure to stay out of your way?’

‘That’s not Chris,’ Kieran says bitterly. ‘He’s fiercely ambitious, loves the spotlight and, most of all, hates losing. That’s what makes him such a good tennis player.’

‘You’re all those things, too. Except the spotlight thing.’

‘When I played him in the final of the Australian Open all those years ago, all the talk was about me,’ Kieran recalls, his brow furrowing. ‘Because I was so young and everything with Aidan – the press were all over me. Chris was near me in age, and had obviously done well to get to the final, but no one was talking about him. He hated that. He resented me for it. In his eyes, he was the young star, not me.’

‘But he won, so why does he still have it in for you?’

‘After that the press played us off against each other, telling us comments that the other one had made. We were both kids, so we’d snap back. He said nasty things about me. I said worse things about him. It was a vicious circle that the papers encouraged. We kept clashing; they kept printing and selling. Great entertainment I suppose. You can imagine how much they loved the drama of Rachel leaving me for him.’

‘That must have been horrible.’

‘One of the lowest points of my life,’ he admits, before giving a weak smile. ‘You have no idea how bad it was when the press came for me…’ He trails off and his eyes glaze over as he loses himself for a fleeting moment in a memory, but he soon pulls himself back, clearing his throat. ‘It’s in the past. I moved on and learnt to keep my private life private. It became hard to trust anyone, especially when Rachel and Chris did so many interviews.’

‘Ugh. It sounds like you dodged a bullet. And what does she even see in Chris? He seems to actually enjoy making you uncomfortable.’

‘Yeah, our issues aside, I’ve learnt that Chris isn’t exactly a decent person. Let’s hope he gets knocked out, so I don’t have to face him this tournament,’ Kieran says wistfully, glancing over at Chris as the people he’s with burst out laughing at something he’s said.

Chris is laughing louder than any of them at his own joke.

‘I thought enemies liked the challenge of facing each other,’ I remark. ‘Isn’t that, like, a classic thing if you’re an athlete? You have to beat the best so you know you’re the best.’

Kieran arches his brow at me. ‘Does all your knowledge of athletes come from movies?’

‘Pretty much, yes.’

‘I thought so.’ He gives me a knowing smile, the crinkles around his mouth sending a flutter of butterflies around my stomach. ‘I obviously would like nothing better than to beat Chris Courtney in a tennis tournament, but I also hate coming up against him. He likes to attack his opponents mentally.’

‘Like trash talk?’

Kieran presses his lips together. ‘Worse. He knows exactly what to say to make you lose your footing. He stoops low and he’s not afraid to sting right where it hurts.’

His eyes darken as he continues to watch Chris from afar. I can only imagine the kind of comments Kieran has had to endure from someone like that. Finding his hand, I lace my fingers through his so he tears his eyes away from Chris and fixes them on mine.

‘One more voice to shut out, then,’ I say. ‘You’ll have to find a way to ignore him and not let those comments get to you. Hey, do you remember how you told Jonah that you don’t like people who belittle others to make themselves feel bigger? Right before you pinned him up against the fridge?’

‘I have a vague recollection.’

‘Chris is doing the same. Throwing around insults doesn’t make him some kind of big dog on the court. It’s a sign of weakness. By going to the effort of making those cutting comments, he’s letting slip his own self-doubts. He knows you can beat him; that’s why he wants to bring you down.’

He considers my point, his eyebrows pulled together.

‘Kieran!’ Neil interrupts, sidling up to us accompanied by a very familiar face. ‘I’d like to introduce you to John McEnroe.’

Kieran’s eyes light up as he shakes his hand. ‘It’s an honour, sir.’

I might not be a tennis expert, but I know John McEnroe, one of the greatest tennis players of all time. I smile politely as they strike up conversation but, not long after Kieran has introduced me, I take the opportunity to place my drink down and excuse myself to go to the bathroom. It’s obvious that Kieran is talking to one of his heroes – both of them joking about the perils of losing one’s temper on court – and I didn’t want to get in the way of such a momentous meeting. Neil was doing his best to edge me out the conversation anyway.

While I’m in the bathroom I wonder if I should use tonight as an opportunity to win over Neil. I’m sure if I’m charming enough and make it clear that I’m not here to distract Kieran from Wimbledon, he might warm to me.

Worth a shot.

Having checked my reflection and freshened my lipstick, I emerge from the bathroom and begin to navigate my way through the guests back towards Neil and Kieran. But when I’m halfway across the room to them, someone steps directly into my path.

‘Flora, wasn’t it?’ Chris Courtney says, his hazel eyes flashing at me. They flicker down to my empty hand. ‘You don’t have a drink! Let’s sort that.’

‘It’s okay, I have one over—’

He clicks his fingers at a passing waiter to get their attention, taking a glass of red wine from their tray and passing it to me. ‘There you go.’

‘I actually wasn’t drinking red. I’d rather—’

‘So, what’s the deal with you and O’Sullivan?’ he cuts in, raking a hand through his hair. ‘What did he do to land a girl like you?’

My cheeks flush with heat. ‘Uh, nothing. We met recently and it’s been great getting to know him.’

He snorts. ‘Great? Not a word I’d use for him.’

‘Guess we’ll agree to disagree.’

I go to step around him but he moves to block my way.

‘The thing is, Flora, I’d hate for you to be under the wrong impression here,’ he says, leaning in conspiratorially, forcing me to stumble backwards. ‘Kieran isn’t the sort of person you want to align yourself with. He’s not a favourite, if you know what I mean.’

I glare up at him. ‘I have no idea what you mean.’

‘He’s a loose cannon on the court. Impulsive and reactive. These are not good qualities.’ He sighs, giving me a sympathetic look. ‘You should be with a winner. Not a loser.’

Ignoring him, I try to step past him again, but he stops me.

‘Look, I was serious about the art meetings I can set up for you,’ he says in a low voice, his eyebrows raised. ‘If ever you want to come over for a drink, my door is open.’

He reaches out to brush my arm lightly with his fingers.

I physically recoil, staring at him in disbelief. ‘You’re married.’

‘She’s away filming.’ He shrugs with a sly smile.

‘I really would like to get back to Kieran,’ I mutter, not bothering to hide my disgust. ‘Please move out of my way.’

‘It’s cool, we’re just talking here,’ he says breezily, giving me a strange look as though I’ve overreacted. ‘I’m trying to do you a favour.’

‘Everything okay here?’ Kieran asks abruptly, coming out of nowhere and looming over me, his eyes filled with concern.

‘It’s fine,’ I tell him hurriedly, aware that others are starting to look our way. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘It didn’t look like nothing,’ he growls, rounding on Chris, his fists clenched at his sides. ‘What were you saying to her?’

Chris barks with laughter, attracting more attention. ‘Paranoid much, are you, Kieran? We were having a conversation. Is that allowed or are you that threatened by me? I’m married, mate, remember.’ He sneers at him, before adding quietly so no one else can hear, ‘I think you may know my wife. At least, you thought you did. Uh-oh, have I hit a nerve?’

‘Kieran, leave it,’ I instruct sternly, noticing his jaw tense. ‘Ignore him. Please.’

‘Do you want to know what Flora and I were talking about?’ Chris says, relishing Kieran’s reaction and pushing it for his own amusement. ‘I was telling her what everyone else here knows. That you can’t win. You never have and you never will. You may have had a bit of luck so far, but we all know it won’t last. You can’t quite go the distance, can you? Always fall at the last hurdle.’

‘I’m warning you, Chris,’ Kieran says in a voice so venomous it makes my stomach twist, his eyes burning with rage.

‘What?’ Chris raises his eyebrows, bemused. ‘What are you going to do, Kieran? Lose your temper? That wouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone, would it. We’ve all seen it countless times before. Every time I beat you, over and over and over, out comes the rage.’ He tuts, before turning to me. ‘You really want to be with someone who has a tantrum when things don’t go their way?’

‘Don’t talk to her,’ Kieran snaps, taking a step forwards so he’s right in Chris’s face.

The room has descended into quiet now as everyone tunes in to the confrontation, except for the string quartet that heroically plays on, giving the drama a jarring classical theme tune. Panic rises in my throat as I notice Neil looking over in horror. This has turned into a scene and it’s all my fault. I reach out for Kieran’s arm, but he shakes me off.

Chris is smirking, his eyes lit up with the thrill of riling him. ‘Ooh, you really do lose control, don’t you, Kieran. You just can’t bear the fact that I beat you. You’ve lost every Grand Slam match you’ve played against me and you lost Rachel. That must still hurt. Is that what you think about every time we play? You think about how you weren’t quite enough so she chose me instead? How you couldn’t give her what she wanted, but I could?’

Kieran’s chest rises dramatically with a deep breath and then as he exhales, he lowers his eyes and shakes his head. As he turns away from Chris, I feel a wave of relief.

He’s found the strength to walk away.

‘My question is, why do you still bother playing when you know you can’t win?’ Chris sighs, raising his voice slightly so Kieran won’t miss it. ‘You know you can’t take the pressure. It’s in the O’Sullivan blood.’

Kieran freezes. His eyes widen and he hunches forward as though he’s just been punched in the stomach and had all the air knocked right out of him. I know what’s going to happen, I can see it in his eyes as they glaze over with rage. Before I can do anything to stop him, Kieran has swivelled back around to face him and, without a word, in the middle of the party, he punches Chris Courtney square in the face.