Chapter 19
Lily
“Is that how you got your role on Strike?”
The words keep rolling around my head.
Is that really what people are saying?
I hate that they’re making me question myself.
This is the kind of shit I’m up against, and have been all my career.
Not just me, all women. In all walks of life.
Granted, there are some amazing men out there who don’t hold these views, but when you come across one, who still thinks we’re weaker than them or believes that the woman’s place is in the home, it magnifies everything.
“Senora?” My eyes slowly drift up to the young, petite waitress, and my anger ebbs slightly at her warm smile. “Senora, aquí tienes tu te.” She bends, placing my tea down and an assortment of pastries.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t speak Spanish.” God, I feel so British right now. I really should make the effort. She grins, hugging her tray to her chest.
“It’s okay,” she says in perfect English as she rocks back on her heels, still smiling. “I’m sorry, are you Lily Chambers?”
“Yes?” My anger has calmed, but I’m still shaking with rage slightly, so my voice sounds a little uncertain.
“Is that how you got your role on Strike?”
Don’t, Lily. Don’t think about what that prick said, don't let his words weave into your thoughts.
She looks behind her before she pulls her pad and pen out of the front pocket of her apron. “Can I have your autograph?” she whispers eagerly.
I’m sorry, what?
“Y-you want my autograph?” I stutter, pointing to my chest, my mouth agape.
“Yes, you’re Lily Chambers. Top goal scorer in the Women's British Super League three years running. You won the Women's Champions League with City twice.” She waves her hands animatedly as she quickly rattles off my stats. “I’ve seen all your games. I cried for days when you got injured.”
I still don’t know what to say. I’ve never really been asked for my autograph this far outside of the stadium. Women’s football just doesn’t get the same buzz as the men’s.
“Senora?”
Snapping out of my daze, a smile takes over my whole face as I hold my hand out for her pad. “What’s your name?”
“Rose.” She pushes the pad toward me, and I gesture for her to take a seat. “I can’t,” she grimaces, turning to see her boss giving her a disapproving look.
Grinning the whole time, I sign the pad and pass it back to her. “So, you like football?”
“Yes, I love it. I used to play for our local team, but I had to stop. It’s just me and my brother now.
He runs the little restaurant across the road, ‘Salsa Sensations’, and I help out when I’m not here.
” Her English is impeccable as she speaks so lovingly about her brother, my mind drifts to my own brother and how close we are.
But taking in all her words, a small part of my heart cracks because she has had to give up what she loves.
I make a mental note to try and visit some of the local women's teams while I’m here.
“Maybe one night I’ll come across for a meal.”
“Really?” Her eyes widen almost comically.
“Yes, really.” I chuckle.
“Oh, that would be amazing. We have bands playing some nights, and those are my favorites. We eat, laugh, and dance all night. Can you salsa?” She bounces on the balls of her feet, and her enthusiasm is definitely rubbing off on me.
“Sorry, two left feet. But I'd give it a go.” I mentally roll my eyes as I spot her boss starting to move toward us. “I’ll come over, I promise.” I nod my head in their direction. “But I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“Ay, mierda.” She stuffs her pad back in her apron and practically runs back to the kitchen.
She has managed to ease the anger I was feeling, giving me a little hope that maybe I am doing something to make a difference after all.
I take one of the pastries, just as Marcus returns with a shit-eating grin on his face. “What’s got you looking so happy? We’ve only been here five minutes. Surely, you haven’t talked someone into your bed already?” Taking a bite of my pastry, I look up at him through my lashes.
“Very funny, Chambers.” He takes a seat in the wingback armchair opposite and grabs himself a pastry. “If you must know, I was collecting this.” He pulls out a destroyed recorder and a snapped SD card from his jeans pocket.
“Is that…”
“The pictures? Yep. If that prick thinks he can spread lies and create drama just to line his pockets, he can think again." He takes a bite of a pastry before putting the broken pieces back into his pocket.
I think my jaw is on the floor. This softer, but also protective side of Marcus is throwing me off. “You did that for me?”
“Of course.” His eyebrows draw together. “I wasn’t having him spread those lies about you.”
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” He is showing me a completely different side to him right now. Just like on the plane, he is making it very hard to hate him.
“I did, you deserve your spot, and I will not sit by and see some asshole tear you down.” Emotion clogs in my chest at his words, but the stubborn part of me refuses to let it show.
“And I picked these up on my way back through.” He dangles two sets of keys from his fingers before placing mine on the table.
“Perfect,” I say brightly, relieved at the swift change in direction the conversation is going. I swipe up the key just as he finishes his pastry, licking the tips of his fingers. And I momentarily get lost as his eyes close in pleasure and the sensual groans escaping him.
“Dios, I forgot how good the food is back home.”
Jesus, my head is all over the place. Get a grip, Lily.
His gaze refocuses on me, and he quirks an eyebrow as he stands. “I’m going to wash the plane off me.”
“Good plan.” I stand and follow him to the elevators. We wait in silence for one to arrive, and when it does, Marcus gestures for me to go in first.
As the doors shut, the air closes in around me, and there seems to be tension that wasn’t there a few moments ago. I can’t bring myself to look at him.
“Is that how you got your role on Strike?”
I need to knock these thoughts of self-doubt out of my head. This isn’t who I am. I’m Lily fucking Chambers. I don’t care what people think.
Feeling the soft touch of his pinky finger against mine, a gasp escapes me at the brief contact. “You good?” he questions, still not moving any closer.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I reply, finally looking over at him, only to find him looking at me with concern in his mesmerizing eyes.
The elevator stops and the doors open, breaking our spell.
Ducking my head, I exit and head toward my room.
When we reach our rooms, which are next to each other, we both put the keys in the lock, smiling across at each other as we turn the key, and I can’t help myself when I say, “I’ll see you later fuck-tard. ”
He throws his head back as he laughs at my insult. “You’re getting better, Chambers.”
I mock curtsy before I disappear into my room.
Noticing my case has already been brought up by the bellboy, I lift it onto the bed, opening it to lay out my clothes.
As I’m sorting through everything, pulling out a new outfit for after my shower, I hear a knock.
But it’s not coming from the main door, it’s coming from a door in the middle of the room.
Thinking I must have misheard it, I ignore the noise and carry on gathering my toiletries for my shower.
The knock comes again, louder this time, and I tentatively move toward the door and turn the handle, revealing Marcus leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, a self-assured grin on his ridiculously handsome face.
“Diaz, what are you doing?”
“Conjoined rooms. This could be fun.” He quirks his eyebrow.
“Doubtful.” I fold my arms. “Don’t think I’ll be leaving this unlocked. Anyway, what did you want? I’m just getting in the shower.”
“I—“
I cut him off. “That’s not an invitation.”
“Shame.”
At that moment, both of our phones chime with incoming messages from the broadcaster, stating that they need us to come into the station this afternoon, and the car will be here in half an hour.
Great. I guess we’re getting thrown straight into this.
“No time to flirt with me now.” He gives me a wink before he turns, taking his shirt off in one swift movement as he goes. I watch his back muscles flex as he throws it down on the bed. His eyes meet mine, and he starts to undo his jeans, never breaking eye contact. “Go have your shower.”
His voice snaps me out of my daze, and my cheeks flush as I slam the door and lean against it, closing my eyes in frustration.
Yeah, I will go have a shower. A cold fucking one.