ROME
Chapter eighteen
Ipant through the adrenaline pulsing in my veins as Caleb grips my face tightly, beads of sweat gliding over his dark skin. “We’re on it, lad! Twelve fucking goals!”
“Aston!” Coach Monroe calls.
My stomach pivots as I make my way to him and follow down the hall.
He stops at the end, arms folded over his chest. “Good game.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I was benched for over thirty minutes of the first half, but I can’t say I’m surprised by that. You make mistakes, you get punished.
“I expect this momentum to be carried into every training and next week’s game,” he explains firmly, thin lips stretching further.
“Yes, sir. I apologise for my distracted mindset. I’ll do better.”
“Don’t make promises, Rome. Show me.” I nod. “While I understand the pressure you’re under as one of the younger players on this team, we have new owners that are expecting you to play and perform. Nine goals are required, not a maximum effort.”
Despite my insides thrashing with disappointment, I give an affirmative nod, though his words still irk me.
New owners are expecting you to play.
If I’m playing, I want it to be because I earned it, not because Rain’s father dictated it.
Draping my bag over my shoulder, I step out of the team’s changing room in my usual black trousers, loafers, and white t-shirt. It was the outfit I wore after my final when I was six, and I’ve worn it after every game since.
Heading towards the stairs, I flick through my notifications, shaking my head at the most recent.
Unknown: Fucking good game, baby! Best striker in the league.
I groan and slide my phone into my pocket, taking the stairs two at a time. The doors slide open as I step into the team’s box, and I’m thankful it’s not as suffocated with people as usual.
Spotting my parents and sisters talking to Aaron, I hesitantly approach them. While my parents always come to home games, they sit sideline and rarely stay this long afterwards.
Indie jumps toward me, burying her face in my chest. “Well done,” she whispers.
“Thanks, princess.”
I receive a hug from Kilah that feels extremely deflated, and, after a round of hugs I don’t particularly want, Aaron hits my back. “Good game, son.”
“Cheers,” I reply dryly. “Can I speak with you…privately.”
Not losing an iota of composure, he motions to the door. I step into a spare conference room and flick the light to a dim setting. Aaron follows, some guy standing guard outside the room. Aaron slides his hands into his trouser pockets, motioning for me to speak.
He seems the same as my father, always wearing a suit.
Dropping my bag to the floor, I lean back against the wall beside the door and slide my hands into my pockets. “Did you have any influence on the decision for me to be subbed on?”
“And if I did?”
“Don’t.”
“You deserve to be on that pitch, Rome.”
“And I will be—when I earn it, not because you dictate it.”
His eyes drop to the floor, and he smiles. “This is exactly why I like you. You refuse to have anything unless you prove you’re worthy of it.”
“Do not interfere with my career. Am I clear?”
He stares through his brows. The menacing look contorts my insides, but I dip my chin, waiting for conformation.
“Do you want to know why I believe you scored those nine goals?” he asks.
“No.”
“Because you’re angry.” He lifts his head.
“You’re angry with yourself for missing an easy goal last week, and I’m sure you’re still angry with Rain.
” I clench my teeth, hating that he’s right.
“While anger may be seen as a bad trait, it’s inherently motivating.
Keep using that fuel to prove to everyone and yourself that you belong here.
Others on your team have become complacent with winning; therefore, their drive and motivation has dropped ever so slightly.
They then blame external factors for their lack of motivation or the outcome of a game.
I don’t see that in you. Don’t let it happen. ”
“I don’t need a speech on fundamentals we’re taught in the Development League,” I throw back and then swipe up my bag, reaching for the door handle.
“Your father’s an ass,” he adds.
“I know.”
I nudge Kilah’s shoulder as we walk down the corridor. She’s dressed in her usual baggy jeans and cashmere sweater, Indie to my right in her white ribbed dress with a matching ribbon around her high ponytail.
“What’s going on with you, K?” I whisper, so our parents walking further in front can’t hear.
She shrugs. “Nothing.”
“Kilah,” I press.
“Drop it, Rome.”
I reach my arms out, wrapping them around both their shoulders and squeeze. “You’re coming to stay with me tonight. Pizza, movies, whatever you want.”
Indie smiles and wraps an arm around my waist, resting her head against me. “I like the sound of that.”
I shake Kilah. “What? Hmm? You don’t want to spend time with your big brother?”
She fights a smile, leaning into me.
I drag them toward the new car I’ve decided I’m going to enjoy until Rain’s back and I can hand him the keys.
“Shotgun!” Kilah shouts, running toward it. Indie whines and trudges to the back door of the pearl white Porsche Panamera with a light tan interior.
“When did you buy this?” Indie asks as I drive down the road.
“A few days ago,” I mutter.
Head rest back, Kilah stares out the windscreen, lost in her own mind. “K,” I call, and she side eyes me. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”
She sniffles, and her chin trembles. My heart clenches as I pull over and gently take her chin, forcing her to look at me. “What’s wrong?”
She swallows. “Please don’t be mad.”
I don’t like where this is going. “I won’t,” I assure, but that could certainly change depending on the secrets she spills.
Teary emerald eyes meet mine. “You’ve had sex, right?”
I’m about to lose my shit. “Yes, why?” I release her face before I crush it.
“Was it good for you? I know it’s supposed to feel good, but it just…”
“You’ve had sex?”
“You said you wouldn’t get mad.”
I look back at Indie, who’s as shocked as I am. She didn’t tell her. Why does Indie not know this? They tell each other everything.
“When was this, K?”
“I went to a party with some friends,” she whispers, pulling down her sleeves to wipe her eyes.
“Were you drinking?”
“Yes,” she admits shamefully.
I won’t judge her for that. “Then what happened?”
She releases a shameful sigh, looking out the window. “We were talking about losing our virginity, and everyone was saying they just wanted to get it over with.”
“And?”
Tears wobble in her eyes. “I was a little drunk, and a guy kept saying, ‘I’ll help you out. Let’s just go upstairs and we can do it together’. He…um…”
The steering wheel groans under my strangling grip. “He what, Kilah?”
“We had sex.”
“Did you want to?”
“No,” she sobs, burying her face in her hands.
Shifting into park, I push open my door and round the car, ripping hers open to undo her seatbelt. Pulling her onto the pavement, I wrap my arms around her while she hyperventilates. “I said no, but he kept pushing and—begging, saying it’ll be good. I didn’t want to—but I felt bad, and I—”
“Shh,” I soothe, doing my best not to rip out her hair as I stroke it. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.” Her tears wet my shirt as I hold her tighter. “Who was it, K?”
“Oliver Viscose.”
I’m going to kill this bastard.
Kilah dives in for another slice of pizza as she and Indie sit on the mattress on my lounge floor, watching TV. I watch Indie as she watches her, her hands twitching like she wants another, but she’s fighting herself.
“Princess.” I dip my chin. “You’ve had one slice.
” Indie tucks her legs up, dressed in the fluffy white pyjamas I keep here for her, Kilah in her floral flannel ones.
“I know you’re an athlete,” I say, “but so am I, and look how much I just devoured.” I point to my empty plate.
I ate an entire pizza. I have no shame. I was hungry.
Her lips purse, and she glances at the pizza that has more vegetables than bread. We went to the shop, and I bought ingredients so they could make their own. To say my kitchen was a mess by the end is an understatement.
“Eat, please,” I order softly. She sighs and reaches for another slice. “I’ll also know if you head to the bathroom afterward.”
An embarrassed heat creeps onto her cheeks. I’m in no way trying to shame her for the fact she was once bulimic; I just want her to eat and not wither away to bone.
You’re a prick, Rome. Why the hell would you say that?
Feeling horrible about my just previous statement, I attempt to backtrack. “Being a dancer requires muscle, right?” She nods. “You can’t get that without fuel.” She fights a smile, taking a bite. Standing, I ruffle both their hair as I pass. “I’ll be back.”
“Rome,” they grumble in unison.
My chest heaves as I close my bedroom door and pull out my phone.
I hate that I’m needing to resort to this.
As much as I want to ring that little prick’s neck, covering a homicide isn’t my forte.
Dialling the number, I put it to my ear and then freeze at the foot of my bed when it connects immediately.
“Hey, baby,” Rain greets.
“I need your help,” I blurt out, getting straight to the point and filling him in on the details.
“I don’t give a flying fuck if this kid’s seventeen,” he shouts so loudly, I need to pull the phone away. “That’s manipulation and coercion. I’ll have that disgusting punk killed within the hour.”
“Does that mean you should die too?” I ask.
“Baby, I asked you if you wanted me to, and you said yes. If you changed your mind, all you needed to say was stop.” The next sentence dissolves in my mouth.
He chuckles, like he can hear the words pop on my tongue as they disappear.
“You also opened your legs for me to feel your hard fucking cock, didn’t you?
” My dick swells, and I swallow the nerves produced by his filthy mouth.
“If you want me on my knees begging for your cock in my mouth or for you to give me that tight ass, then I’ll beg day and fucking night.
I’ll worship at your feet for the rest of my life. ”
Heat rises up my neck, and I sit down on the bed, for one second imagining him kneeling before me. Dismissing it, I get back to the reason I called. “What can you do from where you are?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“You’re good with computers. Can you get into his socials and post an admittance or something?”
He’s so silent, I need to pull the phone away and check he’s still on the line.
“That’s child’s play, Rome. Think bigger.”
“Like what? I don’t...I don’t know if I want him killed…yet. I want him to suffer.”
“I’ll get into his messages and see what I can find. We expose the little fuck for anything and everything.”
A smile lifts my lips, and I nod. “Do it. I don’t want that kid leaving his house without dropping his head, in hopes no one recognises him.”
The tapping of keys and his hummed melody fill the awkward tension I wish I could crawl away from. “Sooo, how are you feeling after your game?”
“Can you focus?” I groan.
“Baby, I’ve been doing this shit for years. Besides, I’ve missed your voice.”
“Do you usually get this obsessed with people?”
“You aren’t just anyone. You’re a fucking god.”
Rain and I observe myself through very different lenses. He perceives me as a god. I find that obscenely inaccurate.
“Okay, I’m in,” he says casually, like he didn’t just hack someone’s social media.
“Already? How?”
“Dumb fuck’s watching porn right now, which makes it a lot easier to get in.”
I become a little panicked at how easily he did that. Has he been reading every message I receive or send? Shit, has he seen my porn history?
“This is some serious pervert shit,” he spits.
“What?”
The video call chimes against my ear, and I hesitate before answering. Wooden beams light up behind his annoyingly good-looking face, the silver chain draped around his neck to his bare chest.
He growls like a goddamn animal when seeing my face.
“Show me,” I bite out.
The camera flips to a laptop screen, and he proceeds to open various messages that show Oliver manipulating countless girls into sleeping with him.
Unease rolls my stomach when he opens Kilah’s thread, revealing he sent her two dick picks and a full body in his bathroom mirror, revealing his face. She never responded, but he kept pestering.
“Your call, baby,” Rain says. “What do you want me to post?”
“Post the messages, but don’t reveal who the girls are. Dick pics, full body pics, everything.”
“I’ve locked him out, so he won’t know until people text him, and he won’t have access until I allow it.”
I flick up his call and open the app, searching for the name. Clicking on oli.vis, I see one new post already: a message chain of him pestering a girl, her picture and handle blurred out. Even when they say no, I keep going, as the caption.
The next is another message chain, a grainy dick pick in this one. They say they don’t want to see it, but I send it anyway is typed now.
“Oh, my gosh!” a scream comes from downstairs.
I smile, flicking back to see Rain. “Thank you.”
His face lights with a soft smile. “Of course, baby. Whenever you want him dead, just let me know, and I'll take care of it.”
“Rome!” Kilah yells at my door.
“Don’t you dare hang up,” Rain says through gritted teeth.
Satisfied, I put an earbud in my ear, plug in the cord, and slide my phone into my pocket. “Can you hear me?”
He groans. “I love your voice.”
Wiping the smile from my face, I open the door. “Look!” Kilah shouts, shoving her phone in my face.
I flick through the posts, the last, a grainy, naked, full body pic. Caption: I won’t stop until I’ve fucked every bitch in London.
“Everyone’s sending it to each other.” Kilah points to the phone. “Even if he deletes them, Indie and I have them screenshot.”
“Smart girl,” Rain muses.
“Good, K. He deserves to feel like shit.”
She takes the phone, looking nervously through her lashes. “This was you?”
“And if it was?”
Her lips purse, and she wraps her arms around me. “Thanks, Rome.”
“Love you, K.”
“Love you, too.”
“Kilah!” Indie shouts. “He posted another. I need to know if it’s you!”
Kilah steps back, turning toward the stairs.
“Did she eat?” I ask.
She nods, that brighter energy already returning. “Another three slices.”
“Good. Go get ready for bed. Are you sure you don’t want my room? I’ll sleep on the—”
“No. Indie and I don’t see each other much anymore. We’re happy to sleep together.” Her hair whips behind her as she races back downstairs.
I take out my phone and close the door. Rain flashes a smile, and my dick jumps.
Bloody hell.