Chapter 24
Austin
I was expecting Xander Sutton—the billionaire and cofounder of the venture capital group—to be a little less approachable.
But he was unbelievably friendly. He’d pulled together a group of guys who were basically a captive audience at this wedding
and gotten them together for a game. And this was the perfect venue to talk to him about investment in the foundation.
I walked onto the field and my eyes landed on Blake.
It made sense that he was here. He was around the same age as Isa and probably just as good at making new friends. He likely
was invited to join when Xander gathered the rest of his buddies.
I tried to ignore Blake, because it took five minutes of chatting with Xander to understand why Isa had sent him my way. A
former Division 1 soccer player, he ran a venture capital firm now and carried a love for the sport. And happened to own stakes
in numerous football clubs around the world. There wasn’t a person more perfect to share my vision for the foundation and
eventual training academy.
He’d understood it and happened to have a lot of capital.
“So, you asked a few people to join a quick pickup game and all these people show up?” I walked over to the bench he was sitting
on as he put on a pair of cleats.
Inside the Stade again twice in the same week was a bizarre feeling of déjà vu. I stared out to the empty stands, then looked
down at the friendly billionaire.
“People tend to like me.” Xander shrugged with an upside-down smile, then ran a hand through his tawny blond hair. “And the
Ritz Paris is filled to the brim with rich people who have nothing to do between events.”
He stood and shifted his weight between his legs, like it had been a while since he’d played.
“I’m guessing the groom put you up to this?” he asked.
“Huh?”
He chuckled lightly. “Playing hot potato with the reporter sounds like a Henry-type request.”
“It’s a mission for the maid of honor,” I told him, looking down the field as the group of around fifteen or sixteen filed
onto it. Blake was one of them. “Thought maybe I’d make her day a little easier.”
The competitive fire in my gut flared, but I reminded myself there wasn’t any glory in beating a beginner. I needed to take
it easy, and it would be tactless to humiliate Blake up and down the pitch today.
“So, are we playing, or is this a mean-spirited game of target practice?” Xander looked at Malcolm with suspicion. “I’m up
for either.”
“How about a friendly game?” I suggested, raising my hand over my eyes to block the sun. Malcolm was a scraggy chain-smoker; there was no chance he’d survive anything more than an easygoing match.
“Fine, but your team gets a few less players.” He jogged onto the field and turned to run backward with a charming smile.
“You know, professional and all.”
“I’m basically retired,” I retorted mostly to myself.
“Still counts,” he called, turned back around, and ran to the group.
Trying to be a good sport when playing against civilians was frustrating. And we had to stop when Malcolm became a concerning
shade of gray.
“You okay?” I walked over to the bench where Malcolm was nearly doubled over.
He nodded, taking a bottle of water from me but still so winded that he couldn’t drink it. “Sorry we had to end early.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I wasn’t supposed to be playing, not that the last thirty minutes were anything close to actual play.
“You did . . . great.”
I tried to sound genuine over the lie.
The first ten minutes, he’d seemed fine. He took a break after fifteen, and then around a half hour in, he just sat down.
But given that it would be an hour back to the Ritz and another one to Versailles, we’d successfully distracted him and he
was still alive. So, all in all, a good day.
“Well, that was . . .” Xander walked over to the bench and grabbed a bottle of water. He looked over to Malcolm with a pitying smile. He grimaced. “Movement?”
I chuckled a little under my breath.
“Too bad Isa couldn’t come. She’s always a lot of fun,” Xander told me.
Right when I opened my mouth to tell him why Isa was busy today, someone else answered for me.
“Isa doesn’t like soccer.” Blake’s voice cut into our conversation, cold and annoyed. He took a seat a few feet away from
Malcolm. “Never has.”
He was clearly bothered. Isa got exactly what she’d wanted; he was going a little nuts. That specific bit of information would probably make
her happy to know, and that made a pit form in my stomach. She didn’t want anything from him but still cared enough about
Blake to want to see him hurt.
“She finds it tedious,” Blake continued, looked up with a half smile, smug. Like he wanted to make sure I knew how well he knew her. “She watched it for years with me and never learned a single rule.”
“I taught her a few things,” I replied offhandedly. Blake’s jaw lined with tension. “People change.”
“Not some people . . .” he grumbled, standing up and making sure to knock my shoulder as he pushed past.
He walked over to one of the tunnels that led out of the stadium, along with everyone else. Malcolm took a few deep breaths
and followed behind Blake.
“Isa’s ex?” Xander stated once Blake was out of earshot.
“Yeah.”
“An ex showing up, unexpectedly; been there.” He slapped a hand on my shoulder before he started walking in the same direction. He didn’t explain any further, only kept toward the exit. “So, I was talking to the owner—are you considering coaching here?”
“You know Hugo Sellier?”
Apparently, I was talking to exactly the right person. I tried to shake off the brief frustration from talking to Blake because
I needed to make sure I thanked Isa.
“Mm-hmm,” he answered casually.
I puffed out a breath of air. “B team coaching,” I clarified. “But yeah, maybe.”
“Nothing wrong with B team.” Xander nodded at a few of the other guys as they all began to file out. “I never made it past
collegiate level, so . . .”
“I was also thinking . . .” I pushed myself because, even though this felt a little weird, knowing Isa sort of set this up
gave me a nudge I didn’t realize I needed. “I started the Mistry Foundation. It’s based out of Queens, and funding sort of
depends on me staying relevant. I was thinking of starting an academy-type facility, you know? Find talent and keep it in
the States.”
“Invest in the American league. Like the individual clubs do in the Premier League,” he surmised, his eyebrows raised. “I
like it.”
Some days, when I saw just how much American kids liked the sport, it didn’t feel so far off. And maybe our dream of expanding
the foundation’s reach, recruiting talent, creating a program for young talent—maybe it might happen at some point.
“It’s a long way off,” I added. “It’s not exactly a safe investment, the training facility. Building a program that feeds into a fledgling league.”
“Yeah,” he said shortly, unfazed. “Returns won’t be for decades, but that’s what venture capital is for.” Xander grinned.
“And that usually means a pretty big upside. When we get back to New York, you should come by Dawn Capital.”
“Yeah?” Anxiety and hope filled me at the same time.
“I like to think the world isn’t nearly as complicated as we make it.” He shrugged. “How hard could it be?”
The words echoed in my head.
He took a last look over his shoulder to the pitch as we made our way to the tunnel to leave. “So, you’re done playing?”
“I think so,” I admitted out loud for the first time.
I was done playing. I knew that; it was the whole reason I was here. But I’d always figured that realization would be some big moment
in my mind.
But it wasn’t. Instead, I had a new idea, a new thing I wanted to chase. All this time I’d put that energy into finding a
way to keep in the sport through coaching. But maybe there was another way I could hold on to it. A way I was genuinely excited
to try. Maybe Theo’s vision wasn’t meant to be passed along to someone to manage it. Maybe I could do it. I knew now that
I wanted to.