Chapter 28 Dominic
DOMINIC
Entering the club feels like running the gauntlet.
Everyone side-eyes me, there are whispers as I pass by, and quickly averted glances when I look in their direction.
Mia had warned me she didn’t think it was a good idea to go back yet, but after four days of being at Charlotte’s and avoiding the news, I’d had enough.
Mia had gone to meet with her PA, and I’d decided to go to the club for training.
Except now I’m wondering if maybe Mia was right, because even Sarah eyes me warily as I stand at her desk asking if there’s any messages.
“Uh, yes, there are, ummm…” She fiddles around in a file, obviously flustered, and when I look around me, I see everyone frozen in a sort of awkward stance, unsure of what to do next.
“If anyone has anything to say, just say it.” I raise my eyebrows, looking from one startled face to the next. “I’m not coming into my own bloody club to be stared at and whispered about.”
There’s a murmured chorus of Oh no and Nothing and No, sir, and everyone quickly disbands.
“Sarah, would you step into my office for a moment please?” I stride in ahead of her, sitting down at my desk and gesturing for her to take a seat.
She rushes in, closing the door securely behind her, and primly smoothing down her skirt before perching on the chair opposite me.
“Yes, Mr Graves?” She asks.
“I know everyone knows what happened,” I say, and her eyes drop to her lap, her cheeks bursting into a bright red blush. “And I need everyone to stop being bloody weird about it.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I’m sure you didn’t. But everyone acting like a criminal has just wandered into the club isn’t helping.” I lean on the table, and sigh. “What’s been landing on your desk?”
Sarah shrugs, still avoiding my eyes. “Lots of press inquiries, mainly asking if your relationship is the reason Archie left.”
“And you know it isn’t.”
“Yes, I do,” she responds, nodding slowly, then finally chancing a glance back at my face. “At least I hope so.”
“Nothing happened until Mia had told Archie their marriage was over.”
“Oh, good.” Sarah’s shoulders visibly relax. “I mean, of course you don’t owe me anything, I’m just your secretary, I mean-”
“I still want you to know. It’s important to me. We’re a family round here, and that includes you.”
She gives me a small smile. “Thank you. I appreciate that. And I’ll have a word with the staff to stop being weird. It’s not helpful.”
“No, it’s not.” I get to my feet, and she quickly follows suit. “I need to get down to the locker room, talk to the team.”
Sarah’s face drops. “I think you should know that Barry’s on the war path.”
“Well, he can be if he likes. This is my club, he can leave it if he wants to.”
I’m still certain Barry won’t leave a winning team this late in the season. As I head down the halls to the locker room, I am more than certain all Barry’s hubris boils down to nothing more than religious zealotry.
The locker room is abuzz with conversation when I enter, conversation which swiftly dies into silence as my presence is noted. All the players stare at me, then share uncertain glances between each other. Only Jordan, Ricky and Troy approach me with ease, shaking my hand and murmuring greetings.
“Hello, lads,” I say to the room. “You all look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“They may as well have.” The irate voice sounds from the corner of the room, where Barry is standing in the doorway of his office. His hands are on his hips, and his gaze is pure venom. “Amazed you can show your face around here.”
“Now, come on, coach,” Jordan says, but Barry throws that gaze Jordan’s way, pointing a finger in his direction.
“Save it, Priest.” He looks back at me. “A word, if you would, Dominic.” He spins on his heel and heads back into his office, and his performance is almost laughable.
I head into his office and close the door behind me with a chuckle.
“You certainly have a flair for the dramatic.”
“Is this funny to you?” He turns on me, eyes wide, so furious I expect him to start foaming at the mouth.
“This is all a bloody joke to you, isn’t it?
I’m here, slaving away to get these boys through the season, to get your bloody club to win after the shit your son pulled, and you’re out here shagging his wife? Your striker’s bloody wife?”
“Not the striker, and not his wife.” I cross my arms over my chest, and Barry looks like he’s going to explode. “And for the record, my private life is my private life.”
“Not when it affects the club!”
“How has this affected the club?”
Barry slams his fist into his desk, sending everything upon it jumping.
“Stop being so fucking naive, Graves. Do you know what they expect of us?” He gestures above him with a spread hand.
“Those fans, do you know what they want? They expect fucking perfection. One misstep, just one, and our reputations are down the toilet.”
“Barry, players have been caught with prostitutes, in strip clubs, cheating on their wives, embezzling money, you fucking name it, they’ve done it.
And you’re worried about some old club owner shagging a younger woman?
” I laugh, sending Barry’s veins thumping at his temples.
“You know what’s going to make this whole situation worse?
You all acting like this. You’re the reason the lads are upset about it.
You’re riling them up. You’re stirring the fucking pot.
Who I sleep with has no bearing on the club, or how those lads play. "
Barry tries to form a sentence, but is so angry he can’t get any words out. Instead, he just growls and grumbles at the table, throwing himself down into his chair and scrubbing his face with his hands.
“Barry, if you don’t stop you will actually give yourself a heart attack.”
“I’ll have a heart attack regardless when we lose all our sponsors,” he mutters from behind his hands.
“Come on now.”
“No, listen.” He slams a hand against his desk again, sending a cup of pens tumbling to the floor.
“Half our sponsors are in the Middle East. They have values, Dominic. Values they hold dear. You think they’ll want to sponsor a club where the owner is in an adulterous affair with his daughter-in-law? ”
“You think those sponsors are willing to lose out on the kickback of being a part of the biggest team in football?”
Barry’s mouth sets into a hard line, and with a grunt he slumps back into his chair.
“Well? Do you?”
“I don’t know!” Barry growls back.
“I do. Money talks. My indiscretions don’t. They didn’t dump us when I got divorced, and they won’t now. Stop worrying.”
Both our heads snap in the direction of the locker room as shouting and scuffling erupts. And a familiar voice rings out over it all.
“Where the fucking hell is he?” Archie calls.
Barry’s venomous gaze is back, and he shakes his head as he springs to his feet. “Stop worrying, ey?”
Out in the locker room, war has erupted. Ezra and Jordan are holding Ricky back, who is hurling every Spanish insult imaginable in Archie’s direction. Archie, who is being restrained by Troy, is twisting and spitting like an angry snake.
“What the fuck is going on?” I bellow, and at the sound of my voice everything stops for a second. Archie’s gaze lands on me, new fury coursing through his features, and Troy quickly adjusts his grip as Archie’s rage is now directed at me.
“You fucking pig!” Archie roars. “You fucking dirty old fucking pig! She’s my wife!”
I wave a finger at Troy. “Let him go.”
“Sir, I don’t think that’s wise.”
“I said let him go, Everest.”
Archie rushes at me, and while I brace myself for the punch, he stops short. His eyes are wild, bloodshot, and he smells of alcohol. He leers at me, his jaw working as though crushing up the words he’s preparing to spit at my feet, his head wobbling in an uncontrolled shake.
“How fucking dare you,” he utters. “How fucking dare you touch my wife.”
“She’s not your wife, and she made that clear, didn’t she?”
The locker room has fallen completely silent but for the ragged sound of Archie’s breathing.
“Didn’t she, Archie?” I ask again, and I can see my calm demeanor is making him rage even more. “She told you your marriage was over when you came back.”
“Oh and that makes it alright for you to fucking swoop in and shag her?” Archie’s lips pull back, baring his teeth and sending more alcohol-soaked haze towards me. “You’re disgusting. How could you sleep with your own daughter-in-law, you dirty old fuck?”
“You cheated on her. You disappeared. You abandoned your club-”
“Don’t you bring the club into this!” Archie jerks a finger in my face.
“This isn’t about the club, or my job, or anything else other than you, and me, and Mia.
I told you I wanted her back, and you, oh well you made it clear I was to stay away from her.
” He backs away, looking around at his former teammates.
“Oh yeah, he got extremely irate, he did, when I told him I wanted her back. Told me right quick to fuck off. Now I know why.”
If Archie was hoping for anyone to be on his side, he’s lost out, because every time he stumbles closer to someone, they back away. All eyes regard him as though he’s a madman, completely lost to his ramblings.
And panic starts to creep in. I haven’t heard from Mia in a few hours. And Archie, who’s been drinking for god knows how long, is raging. Did he come here first? Or…
No, Mia is with Holly, or back at Charlotte’s. She’s safe.
Archie, for all his brashness, wouldn’t have gone to Charlotte’s. He knows she’d taser him in a second.
“Archie,” I say, holding up my hands. “I think you should go and sleep it off.”
“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do!” He stumbles towards me, and is instantly thrown off balance by Adedayo’s open palm slamming into his chest. “Get off!”
“I think your father is right,” Adedayo says, his voice low. “You are making a fool of yourself here.”
Archie’s jaw drops, and he scoffs out a laugh. “You’re actually defending the man who’s shagging my wife?”
“I am defending the man who stood by us after you disappeared.” Adedayo’s gaze darkens. “And I will not have Mia’s name slandered here. She is a good woman. She has supported us.”
“Yeah, you know why, don’t ya?” Archie laughs maniacally in Adedayo’s face. “Because the club’s PR department told her to! You think she gives two fucks about this place?”
“Archie, you need to leave.” Jordan speaks up from the other side of the room, and Archie spins to face him.
I see his demeanour shift, as though he’s finally realised how alone he is in this room. No one is regarding him with anything other than disdain. Even Barry looks angry now. Archie has no allies here.
“Fine,” he barks, wiping his face against his sleeve. “Fine, fuck you all. I’m going to fucking air all your dirty secrets, you bastards! Just watch me!”
Santos surprises the shit out of everyone by smashing his sizable fist straight into the middle of Archie’s face.
There are gasps, and Ezra rushes forward to pull Ricky away, which makes another argument erupt between the two of them.
Archie hits the ground in an almost comically straight line, and he’s out cold.
“Fuck’s sakes!” Barry cries, pulling out his phone. “Calm yourselves fucking down, I’ve got to call an ambulance!”
I check Archie over, and he’s breathing, but unconscious. The smell of alcohol is overwhelming, so strong it’s almost as though he’s doused himself in it. How he even managed to drive here is beyond me.
Adedayo leans over and inhales, frowning as he looks at me.
“Sir, can you smell that?”
“Alcohol, yeah. He’s drenched in it.”
Adedayo’s frown deepens, and he crouches down beside me.
At that moment, my phone starts to ring.