Vile Intentions: A Dark Sports Bully Romance

by Savannah Rose

  12

  There’s a part of me that didn’t expect her to show up. At 3:30 I started brainstorming alternatives to the Beth problem. Was there any other female in my reach who would be willing to do this on such short notice, or at all? Could I pull off the whole gay thing? I’m handsome enough, well-dressed enough, but my track-record… There’s no immigration officer in the world who would buy my shift in attraction.

  I was pulling a whole bunch of blanks before I spotted her worn-out shoes entering the store.

  She looks so dreadfully out of place in her baggy jeans and white T-shirt.

  “I was about to leave,” I grumble as she walks over to me, one hand on her hip and her face twisted into her usual sour-scowl.

  “It’s only 3:45.” She sighs. There’s no fire behind her eyes which is strange considering the fact that she missed her first full day of school today.

  The slime didn’t seem that bad so I’m pretty sure it’s her pride that kept her away.

  Her hair looks clean enough and after Bridgette’s done with her, she’ll look more than just a little presentable. I almost can’t wait to put the riches in all her rags.

  “Every once in a while, we’ll have to be seen together,” I say, folding my arms across my chest as I examine the extent of her shabbiness.

  How is it possible for one person to be such an atrocity to the eyes? It’s not a misfortune of nature either. The soft, subtle curves of her body and the fullness of her breasts are still etched into my memory. Those are all lovely to look at, but the packaging has gone to absolute shit.

  “I’ve already picked out your outfits for the wedding shoot. The reception shoot and the dinner date.”

  “What?” she asks, flushing a bright red.

  I wave my hand at the nearest store attendant and she shimmies over to us.

  “Hi Ashley,” I smirk at her, reading her name tag.

  Unsurprisingly, Ashley blushes deeply and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “How may I help you?” she asks, her voice raspy.

  I smile back. “The items I pre-ordered…are they ready?”

  “Absolutely. Right this way.”

  Beth is unusually quiet. I can’t say I don’t understand why. She could sell everything she’s currently wearing for its highest price and she’d still be unable to pay for a single item on the sales rack – if she doesn’t use the money I pushed into her bank account, that is.

  Slowly, she shuffles behind Ashley, only coming to a stop when Ashley does. I watch as Ashley wheels the rack forward with all the items I picked out for Beth. But it’s not one of the dresses she presents to Beth first. Instead, she lifts a box from behind the counter and slowly unveils its contents.

  When I glance down at Beth, there’s a look of horror on her face. She’s holding the Roberto Coin 18k Gold Diamond Station Necklace in her hand, staring at the price tag.

  The rise and fall of her shoulders seem to disappear as her eyes continue to widen.

  “Problem?” I mutter, a smile thick as cream on my face.

  She glances up at me, barely moving her eyes, let alone the rest of her. “This is ridiculous!” she silently screams. It’s almost impossible to tell whether she’s more impressed than she is horrified.

  I shrug at her and turn my attention back to Ashley who is eyeing Beth with curious amusement. I’m sure she’s wondering how we wound up here together. That makes two of us.

  “Go try everything on. Make sure they fit,” I instruct Bethany who somehow manages to gain control of her face despite all the other telltale signs of her freaking out inwardly.

  “You expect me to wear these?”

  “Well I sure as hell don’t expect you to just stare at them.” I roll my eyes at her and she laughs nervously, glancing over at Ashley who is professional enough to offer her assistance, even though she’s still making eyes at me as they go.

  Yeah. I’m definitely gonna have to find out what her schedule is like and see if she has time to squeeze something thick, hard and British in.

  As I wait for Ashley to work a miracle on Bethany, my phone rings.

  “Yes Coach.”

  “Where the hell are you?”

  “What do you mean, where the hell am I?” I match him, tone for tone.

  “Why aren’t you at practice?” He must be off his rockers, because he sure as shit isn’t old enough for dementia.

  “I’m benched for the season. Remember?”

  “You’re tentatively benched for the season, but Sunday’s game has nothing to do with the new season and you’re in the line-up. Get your ass over here!”

  “No can do, Coach,” I drawl, relieved to hear him use the word tentatively.

  “Maverick you’re really pushing it here.”

  “I’m just doing what you told me to do, Coach?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Maverick?” Ashley calls to me and I glance up at a vision I would not have believed could exist had I not seen it myself.

  “What do you think?” Ashley asks.

  “Coach, I’ll have to call you back,” I mutter into the cell, walking over to Beth, trying like mother-effing-hell not to have my jaw hit the marble beneath my feet.

  Beth’s hair is pulled away from her face into a ponytail and the pounding of my heart is singing her all kinds of praises. The deep V-neckline and back expose just the right amount of her honey toned skin to be tastefully seductive. The swells of her breasts are peeking out in all the right places and the sheer silver-nude tone brings out the fleck of gold in her foresty eyes. If I were another man, I’d call her beautiful. If I were another man, I’d know exactly why my cock is straining against the fabric of my pants.

  “She looks good enough,” I say and for the first time in my life, I’m shocked at how good of a liar I am. “Leave it up to her to make something this exotic look cheap,” I add because…well, because I’m a fucking moron.

  Phone pressed tightly against my palm, I text Bridgette that we’re ready for her. Somehow this feels like I’m walking myself right into thick lava. If the way the dress is plastered on her body already has me this heated, I can only imagine the kind of sweat I’ll be drenched in when she’s completely dolled up.

  Ashley is noticeably more aloof as we walk back to get the other items. Once Beth has tried on the shoes, the jumpsuit and the cocktail dress, I pay for the full order, including accessories and leave her to carry her bags. Sure, I might have made a mistake in finding her attractive, the last thing I need to do is act like I’m keen on getting into her panties. Because I’m not. I. Fucking. Am. Not.

  Ashley is kind enough to help Beth to the door with the bags and I’m irritated that they seem to have bonded since trying on one stupid dress. Screw the both of them.

  “Congratulations on the wedding. I wish you guys all the best.” Ashley smiles and I have to fight not to roll my eyes.

  “Don’t you ever do that again,” I growl at Beth once we’re in the car.

  “Do what?” she asks, feigning innocence.

  “Don’t be blabbing about this wedding to anyone. I’m not your husband and you’re not my wife.”

  “I believe those are the terms used when two people are married,” she snaps back.

  “This isn’t a marriage. It’s a business transaction. I’ll let you know the boundaries later, but you’re already late for your next appointment.”

  “Another appointment?” She looks over at me nervously and I relish the feeling of control.

  Once again, her light seems unusually dimmed. It suits her. It suits her a lot better than how bright and shiny and one-hundred-percent fuckable she looked back in that store.

  I just need to make it through today, this weekend and then the next two years.

  13

  Over five-grand for just three pieces of clothes, two pairs of shoes and two pieces of jewelry sound ridiculous enough, but this $1000 hair style and treatment being proposed manages to top it. In one afternoon,
Maverick’s already spent almost six months’ rent without batting an eye.

  “Can you just wash and dry?” I ask Bridgett and she makes a face at me as though I’ve thrown spoilt milk at her.

  “Honey, you’ve been washing and drying your hair your whole life. If this young man wants to spend his money to make your hair look like it wants to live on your head, you better let him.” She smiles at me. It’s a genuine smile, despite the Botox holding it in place. “The ends are a bit damaged and you said you had a recent run in with slime, right?”

  I nod and she squeezes both my shoulders. “I promise I won’t take too much off and I’ll give you some volume and maybe some highlights, how about that?”

  “You really should be asking me that,” Maverick interjects. “I’m the one paying for it.”

  Everything inside me wants to scream and run for the hills. But mostly, I want to snap back at Maverick. To tell him exactly what I think of his Michael Kors shoes and his bleached-out teeth. But every time I open my mouth to speak, I see my parents before me, huddled together over a mountain of bills and a valley of debt.

  I have to swallow my pride and fight the urge to punch him in the throat.

  Bridgett, on the other hand, has magic hands. As she massages lavender and jojoba oils into my scalp, I can feel the tension nesting in my neck and shoulders slowly rolling away. I want to enjoy this rare moment, but behind my lids is an undercurrent of sorrow that spills out onto my cheeks and gets lost in the fold of my ears.

  I can hear Maverick somewhere in the wings on his phone arguing with someone. He seems so miserable for a man who at eighteen years old already has it all.

  “We’re getting the license today,” he grunts. “You wanted me to take you seriously. I don’t know what could be more serious than me actually following through with this. Yes. Naturally. Okay. There’s another call coming in, Coach. It’s Collin. We’ll talk.”

  The more I think about this situation, the more my heart breaks. I’ve been dreaming about my wedding day since I was a little girl. My parents never told me fairytales. Instead, they told me their own stories of a whirlwind romance and overcoming harsh odds to make a beautiful family.

  “Love always finds a way,” my mom would say. “It doesn’t matter how rocky things seem or how insurmountable the mountain appears to be; when your vehicle is love and the love is unconditional, it will always find a way.”

  I had dreamed of finding a man as kind and caring as my dad. A man who values me for who I am and treasures the love I have to give. I’d marry a prince of my own preference and we would overcome our odds together.

  Instead, what I’ve wound up with is a knock off version of a British Stalin. A man who puts himself first, a man who knows nothing of hardships and will most definitely not treasure me.

  I’m pulled from the cloud of my thoughts once again by Maverick’s incessant jabbering. This time, he catches my interest with a magic word - prenup.

  I suppose it makes sense. We both know this marriage is bound to end in divorce anyway and I have nothing but a birth certificate and generations of poor credit to bring to the table. I’ve never had a problem working for what I want so I’ll have no problems walking away from this sham with the things I entered with. Still, I find it offensive that dear old Collin seems to think I’m a money-grabbing tramp.

  “Okay, we’re all done here. Let’s get you dried and glamorous.”

  I manage to smile at Bridgette who seems to be watching me intently.

  “So how long have you two been going out?” she asks as we cross over to the dryers.

  The words, “we’re not going out” spring to my lips, but I opt for more tact.

  “I’ve known Maverick for a long time.”

  “Hmm. So have I, and I’ve got to say, there has to be something special about you.” She pauses. Smiles. “No offence, dearie,” she tacks on. It’s obvious she’s not buying this whole sham we’re about to put on for the entire world. Can’t say I blame her.

  “None taken,” I mumble.

  “He’s really not a bad kid, you know.”

  “I’m sorry?” I ask because it is the most decent response I can come up with.

  “There’s a lot to be admired under that tough surface.” Of course, if he was shelling out that kind of cash to have me wash someone else’s hair, I’d find a few nice things to say about him too.

  Still, I stare at her with my brows furrowed. She chuckles, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “There’s actually a fully functioning human heart beating inside his chest and a warm soul buried somewhere deep inside there. I’ve seen it. Trust me.”

  “What are you two whispering about?” Maverick snaps and Bridgett stands upright, placing a hand on his shoulders.

  “I was just letting Beth here know that she has really beautiful hair. It’s amazing how well it’s persevered despite the infrequent Bridgett treatments.” She winks at me and I blush. “You should bring her here more often, Maverick.” She scolds him and he shoots me a stern glance.

  “Oh don’t look at her like that. I’m just saying it’s nice to see you with a decent girl for a change and not one of those plastic airheads you usually dangle from your wrist.”

  If looks could kill, Bridgette would be a very dead woman.

  “Stop twisting my arm, Bridgette.” He looks at his phone and then back at me, sour disappointment scorching through his irises. “Make sure she looks decent by the time you’re done with her, will you?”

  Yeah. Functioning human heart and warm soul. Sure.

  I don’t bother looking up at him as he goes.

  “He doesn’t mean that,” Bridgette says, once he’s out of earshot. Her smile is a lot weaker than it was moments ago and I can tell that she’s struggling hard to put the puzzle of me and Maverick together.

  “There are some things money can buy,” I say, leaning back, an easy smile on my face. “Maybe I’m one of them.”

  It’s not a full answer to Bridgette’s unasked question, but at least it’s something.

  14

  It always pays to have friends in high places. If my father taught me nothing else, he certainly drilled that into me. Of course, the word ‘friends’ is used very loosely in this context. Daddy dearest had only enough time to make money and very little time for frivolous things such as friends or family. But the apple, you see, hasn’t fallen far from the tree, so I’m in no position to judge.

  Still, it’s on days like these that I’m especially pleased with the fact that I come from money.

  Lots of it.

  In one afternoon and with some cooperation from a pouty and eerily quiet fiancé, I have managed to get the marriage license and several photos in and it’s not even the end of the day yet.

  Miguel had sent over the pictures and even I’m impressed with how well they turned out, considering the quality of the subject. Looking at these pictures, it would be impossible to know that we had been feuding for as long as we’ve known each other.

  Beth’s long graceful neck looks inviting with the diamonds strewn around it. Her eyes miraculously shine with something that looks a lot more like love than hate as she smiles up at me, holding onto the crook of my arm.

  I swipe the screen to reveal a picture of her blushing as I lean over to ‘whisper into her ear’. We’re at a restaurant and she’s wearing the Max Mara Silk Fil Coupe Jumpsuit Jessica had picked out for herself the last time she came over. The strapless design and Beth’s coiled up-do reveals more of her smooth neck and chest. I’m surprised at how supple her skin is and how well the fitted bodice of the jumpsuit hugs her curves, making her much more alluring than she should ever be.

  In the next series of pictures, we’re smack in the middle of the road, traffic be damned. Beth’s lips are curved upwards and she seems to be glowing as I pick her up and twirl her around on the sidewalk.

  There are no photos of us kissing.

  There will never be photos of us kissing.

  Anywhere.r />
  Ever.

  Period.

  Hoisting and twirling is just about as far as I will go with my wife. Isn’t that a shitty fucking situation to be in? And to think that I, of all the fucking people in this world, will be damned to a sexless marriage.

  “The things I do for hockey,” I hiss, throwing the tablet onto the sofa and strutting over to the mini bar to drown my sorrows.

  Not only am I married, but I’m married to freakin’ Bethany Hendrickson.

  My smart watch buzzes and I glance down at what I instantly know will be the saving grace of my whole mood for the evening.

  “Ethan! What’s up mate?”

  “Where the hell did you go today? You just vanished.”

  “Hockey stuff. You know how it is.” I nod, trying to reassure myself that this is what makes the sacrifice worth it.

  “Bullshit. You weren’t even at training,” he retorts, catching me by surprise.

  “You’re checking up on me now?”

  “Nah, man. Selina is back in town and she came with a group of her friends. The guys are heading out tonight to our usual spot. You need to haul your ass and be there.”

  “Did Jessica see Selina?” I chuckle. Ethan’s laugh tells me all I need to know.

  “Look man, someone needs to come and keep your chicks in line and it’s not gonna be me. Selina’s been asking about you, so...”

  “Alright. I’ll be there.”

  Selina Evans is the head cheerleader from a rival team. Equipped with smooth, long legs and curves for days, she is the epitome of a wet dream. But, even more than that, is the stench of trouble that lingers wherever she goes. It’s the only reason she’s here and because I’m not one to shy away from trouble, I slip into the shower and wash away all the sins I’ve committed in lieu of the one’s I am about to commit.

  Bethany will not be the reason I go to bed with blue-balls tonight.

  Chapter

  Maverick

  The subtle blue lights inside Slate Night Club cast an almost heavenly glow over Selina as she leans over the ping pong table, ready to return Ethan’s shot. Her shimmering, almost metallic, mini skirt clings desperately to her upper thigh, revealing much more than anyone should see for free. Her crop top falls just above the dimples in her back and as I get closer to her, I catch a waft of Chanel gently floating around her.