Chapter 9: Mr Garcia: Chapter 9

My phone vibrates on the table as a text comes through.

You up?

I smirk and turn my phone over so that I can’t see the screen.

Penelope holds her wine glass midway to her mouth. “Kill me now. Is that Duke?”

I sip my Margarita. “Uh-huh.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” Anna snaps.

I roll my eyes.

Penelope and Anna exchange an unimpressed look.

“If you two like him so much, you can be his booty call.” I smile against the rim of my glass.

“Um, okay.” Penelope widens her eyes as she pretends to pick up my phone and answer it.

“I wish a fuckable football player wanted to be my baby daddy.” Penny puts her hand up in the air as if she’s in class, waiting to be picked. “Hell to the yeah, I’m totally down with that.”

I smirk and see my phone vibrate, once again. I ignore it a second time and flick it on silent.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Penelope huffs in disgust.

“I tell him all the time to go find someone else.”

“You actually say that to him? Go find someone else?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And yet he calls you every night for a booty call, which you conveniently take him up on?”

I shrug. “He’s just so hot, and we’re friends.”

The girls laugh.

“I don’t want a relationship.” I sip my drink. “But I’m not completely stupid.”

My phone begins to ring, and I know I have to answer it. He won’t stop calling until I do.

“I’m just going to take this. Back in a minute,” I say to the girls. “Hi,” I answer as I walk toward the front door of the bar.

“Are you ignoring my texts?”

“Of course, I am.” I push the heavy front door open and walk out onto the footpath. “Fuck, it’s freezing out here.” I pull my jacket closed.

“Where are you?” he asks.

“I told you, I’m out with the girls tonight.” I glance at my watch. “Why are you still awake? It’s 2:00 a.m.”

“Because I’m fucking horny, and I need my girl to come and sort me out.”

“Duke.” I smile. “There are so many things wrong with that sentence that I don’t even know where to start.”

“Just get over here, woman.”

Hmm… tempting.

Duke Montana is a gorgeous pro-footballer with more groupies than sense.

He has me on speed dial.

He’s two years younger than me, at six-foot four with a body to die for. He’s the golden boy of his sport with a tall, muscular physique. He has sandy blonde hair with big brown eyes, not to mention he is insanely talented. Both in and out of the bedroom.

We met three years ago in Manchester when I was at university, and he was playing for United. We were both new in town, and on a particularly rainy week we ran into each other in a launderette, of all places. We got chatting while waiting for our washing to dry. We went to dinner, he came back to my place, and we ended up having sex for the entire weekend. He was exactly what I needed at that time, and I think I was the same for him.

We’re close friends—the kind with benefits—and I think we know each other better than anyone else. But lately, things have changed.

He’s getting clingy.

He plays for Arsenal now. He recently moved to London, and he’s ruining everything. He’s given me an ultimatum more than once: either be his fulltime girlfriend or he won’t see me anymore.

I wish I could settle down and want what he wants, because he really is a special guy… but, I don’t know. I can’t even put my finger on the problem.

He demands answers, we fight, but he always calls me the next day, and we always end up sleeping together and then not talking about anything too deep.

Until two weeks later when it happens again.

I decided two weeks ago when he had his last meltdown that I’m going to wean him off me.

I really care about him, and my plan is to distance myself enough so that he has to go and meet someone else. Someone who can love him the way he deserves to be loved. I’m not her. I wish that I was.

Who knows what the future holds?

“Seriously, April. Just get over here,” he says.

My gaze drops to the ground beneath me as I run my toe over a join in the concrete.

“Duke,” I smile sadly. “Remember, we talked about this.”

“I know, but I need you.”

“Sweetie,” I sigh, feeling guilty.

God, I need to break it off all together. This isn’t fair to him. But he makes it damn hard when he’s so good in bed.

“I don’t care, just get over here.”

“I’m not finished with the girls. I’m going to be a while.”

“That’s okay.”

I point my toe and trace a line on the concrete. “Why don’t you ring one of your groupies? There are a million girls who are totally in love with you.” This is the weird thing. I give zero fucks about who he sleeps with besides me, and that’s how I know it’s wrong.

“I don’t want a groupie, I want you.”

This is going to end badly, and I really don’t want to lose his friendship. “I’ll see.”

“I won’t sleep unless I know you’re coming.”

“Fine.” I widen my eyes in exasperation.

“Okay,” he says softly, and I can tell he’s smiling.

“Duke…”

“Yes.”

“This has to stop.”

He stays silent.

“Okay?”

“We have the museum thing on Saturday night, remember?” he reminds me.

“Seriously?”

“You promised me you would come.”

“You’re going to be signing autographs all night anyway. You don’t need me there.”

“April, you promised.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine, but I want Chadwick’s for dinner afterwards.”

“Deal.”

Chadwick’s is my favorite restaurant. I always make him take me there when he makes me go to football stuff. To be honest, I’m the anti-groupie. I really don’t see the appeal in his football. I mean it’s not like it’s gridiron or something. It’s a cultural thing, I guess. He always asks me to come to his games, and I always decline. It’s not real football to me. But I’m an American, and my sporting tastes will never change.

“I’ll see you in about an hour,” I say.

“Okay.” He hangs on the line.

I know that pause. “What?”

“I’ve been watching porn for about four hours. I’m good to go.”

I smirk. “Make that half an hour.”

“I’ve already jerked off twice.”

I feel a twinge down below. “See you in fifteen.”

I lie in the dark and stare at a swirly pattern on the wallpaper. The moonlight peeks through the crack in the curtains. I don’t know how long I’ve been awake but it must be hours.

Duke is wrapped around me like a blanket, nestled in close and holding me tightly from behind. He told me that he loved me tonight.

And I feel like shit.

Because I do love him, but…

My stomach twists with sadness.

What is wrong with me?

I don’t feel jealousy. I don’t feel attachment. I don’t feel that rush of closeness. I don’t feel anger. I don’t feel anything except the physical release of an orgasm.

And it’s not just Duke. It’s been like this with others, too. Up until now, I always thought it was them, not me. This time it’s different.

Deep down, I know.

A lone tear rolls down my face and onto my pillow. I’m filled with a sadness I can’t comprehend. I’m lonely… but I’m not.

I’m with someone but I’m alone.

It’s like the men that I’ve loved have broken me.

I know they were douchebags, too, and I know that I deserve better, but it’s as if my heart no longer believes that I’m worthy of being loved so it blocks everyone out before they get the chance to hurt me.

Duke always jokes and calls me the Ice Queen. Is it true?

I wish I had met him before. I wish I had met him when I could have loved him.

I would have given him my all.

He stirs and kisses my shoulder. “What’s wrong, baby?” he whispers.

I turn and kiss his cheek. “Nothing, sweetie, go back to sleep. Bad dream.”

He pulls me closer. “It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe with me.”

Tears well in my eyes. I wish you were safe with me.

Duke deserves better.

“Don’t forget, staff meeting in ten,” Lewis says, his head peeking around the door.

Damn it, I’m too busy for morale boosting crap this morning.

I fake a smile anyway. “Sure thing.”

I send my emails and print out my to do list for the day. I’m the newest lawyer at Sterling Law, and I like to keep on top of my workload. It was a huge win landing this job. I applied for it believing that I had no chance in hell of getting it, and I got the surprise of my life when I got the call.

I’ve been here ten months now, and I’ve settled in nicely.

I moved from Manchester for the position. Got myself a nice apartment and a new car to go with my fancy new job. I feel all grown up, and I am loving life.

It’s funny how things turn out. I had every intention of returning to The States after I finished my degree. I’d made steps towards doing that. But when I went back to The States for a visit and began looking around for where I was going to resettle, nothing jumped out at me. I was more confused about what I wanted than ever.

I decided that I’d just stay here until the answer to where I’m supposed to be appeared.

I’m happy for the interim, and I never thought I would say this, but England is beginning to feel like home. I mean, I have been here for seven years now, so I guess it makes sense.

I make my way to the conference room and take a seat at the back, watching on as the large room begins to fill. Sterling Law is the biggest law firm in the United Kingdom. We have thirty-four lawyers, and they each have their own personal assistants and secretaries. I don’t have a PA yet, but when I do, I’ll know that I’ve made it.

The room is full to capacity when Philip Rogers, the owner, comes into view. I haven’t seen him around lately. I think he’s been working a lot from our other office across the city. Philip is in his late fifties and a distinguished looking man with silver hair. His accent sounds all snooty like the Queen’s or something.

He walks to the front of the room and addresses the crowd. “Hello,” he says with a huge smile on his face. “Firstly, I would like to thank you for all of your hard work. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed, and I really appreciate it.”

Everybody smiles proudly. It really is nice to be acknowledged.

“I guess you’re all wondering why I’ve called this meeting this morning. Well…” He sits on the corner of the desk at the front of the room. “As a few of you know, my wife is unwell. She…” He pauses, as if the next sentence is hard. “She will make a full recovery, but I am stretched. Because of that, I have decided to do something that has been in the back of my mind for a long time now. I’m taking on a partner.”

The room falls deadly silent.

He stands and puts his hands into his suit pockets and begins to pace back and forth. “So, the next question is… who? Who will be the right fit for our firm? Who will take our company into the twentieth century with the same passion that we are all accustomed to? I have been looking a long time for the right person.”

He’s such a kind man. Whenever I hear him speak, I come away motivated.

“Bart McIntyre.”

The room releases a collective gasp.

What the fuck?

Philip holds his hands up in a comforting gesture, his smile widening. “Now, I know that Bart’s reputation precedes him, and I know that he doesn’t represent the kind of clients we are accustomed to.”

“Damn right about that,” someone mutters.

Bart McIntyre is a legal rock star. He represents high-end clients, models, celebrities, those kinds of people. He’s won every case he’s ever had and is legendary.

“Our normal workload will carry on, of course. However, we will now have an arm of our organization that will look after Bart’s high-end clients.”

Holy shit.

Excitement runs through me. This is going to be amazing.

Philip holds his hands out toward us in a welcoming gesture. “So, there you have it, and we’re wasting no time. Bart starts here in this office on Monday.”

The room breaks out into excited chatter.

“There will be a memo going out to you all this afternoon with all the details, but…” He smiles as he looks around the room. “This is exciting news for our business.” He claps his hands. “You can go back to ruling the world now.”

Everyone chatters as they stand and make their way back to their offices.

“April!” Philip calls. “Can I see you for a moment, please?”

Oh, shit, am I in trouble? “Sure.”

“Down to my office.” He gestures to the corridor, and I follow him down. “Please, take a seat,” he says once we step inside his room.

I sit down and nervously clutch my clipboard, oh no, what’s this about?

Philip sits down and leans back in his chair. “I wanted to offer you a new position.” His eyes hold mine. “How would you like to be Bart’s junior?”

I frown. “What?”

“He wants an offsider. Someone he can train up.”

“But… what… I mean… what…?” My eyes widen. “Me?”

He chuckles. “He wants someone relatively green so he can mould them how he likes to work. He asked for me to assign someone who is eager and intelligent.”

I bite my bottom lip to hide my goofy smile…. He thinks I’m intelligent.

“Okay,” I say, trying to act cool.

“You will be working with Bart on some things, and then on other days you will return to your own cases.”

I grin. “The best of both worlds.”

“Yes.” He smiles. “How does that sound?”

“Amazing.”

“Great. I’ll let Bart know.”

I stand and shake his hand. “Thank you so much for the opportunity. I’m really excited.”

“You earned this, April. Your work ethic hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

I smile proudly.” Thank you.”

He turns his computer on. “Go out and celebrate tonight. This is an amazing start to your career.”

“I will.” I hunch my shoulders together and feel like jumping in the air. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay.”

I close his door behind me and practically dance back to my desk.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Duke pays for the cab while I climb out of the back seat.

It’s Saturday night, and we are at the London Arts Museum. There’s a sporting memorabilia auction in aid of the Children’s Hospital Oncology Ward. Duke and a few other sport stars are signing autographs, but I’m here for my reward dinner afterwards. Chadwick’s: the most heavenly restaurant of all time.

We walk in through the foyer, and I catch sight of myself in the mirror.

I love this coffee-colored dress with spaghetti straps. It fits in all the right places.

We walk into the elevator, hand in hand, and we turn to face the doors.

“What are you going to eat?” I ask as the door closes and we begin to make our way to level four, where the auction is being held.

Duke raises an eyebrow. “You.”

“Apart from my vagina.” I smirk.

“Your ass.”

I laugh, and he puts his arm around me and pulls my head into a playful headlock.

The doors open on level one. A man is waiting, he’s talking on his phone. He glances up at us as he goes to walk in, and he stops midstep.

My eyes lock with Sebastian Garcia.

His brow furrows, and he stands dead still.

We stare at each other, and I get a lump in my throat at the sight of him.

I haven’t thought of him for so long, and yet seeing him here and now brings back the sting of his betrayal as if it happened only an hour ago.

I can hear my heartbeat in my ears as it thumps hard in my chest.

He hasn’t changed.

Sebastian doesn’t move as he stares at me, phone still to his ear, and the elevator doors close.

He didn’t get in.

I drop my head as a barrage of emotions slams me hard.

“MP looks like he saw a ghost,” Duke says.

I frown. “What?”

“The MP, Minister of Parliament.”

“The who?” What’s he talking about?

“That dude on the phone just then. You recognize him, don’t you? He’s all over the news lately.”

I stare at Duke, I knew Sebastian had gone into politics, I have heard his name in passing over the years, but I don’t stay up to date with everything in the UK, I still watch the American news …damn it.

“April, that was Sebastian Garcia.”

I know who it was.

My heart races hard in my chest.

“He was just appointed as the Deputy Prime Minister.”

“When?” I frown, how do I not know this?

“Like three days ago or something.”

I stare at Duke, wide-eyed.

Can’t be!