by Alexa Reiss
That would come in handy. It only meant having to deal with Chance for an entire season of football. How possibly hard could that be?
***
Chapter Three
Chance
“You lucky son-of-a-bitch. Coach Adams’s suggestion for this entire mess is for you to have a pretend girlfriend in front of the camera?”
Chance grinned widely at the envy in Liam’s voice as he twirled the football absently between his hands. “Sure is. And do you want to know who it is?”
“Probably not,” Liam said. “Is she someone that we know?”
“She works in the office as one of Robert’s assistants. You’ve seen her a couple of times.”
“It’s not Lindsey right? That chick’s hot and all, but she doesn’t strike me as the type of woman to better your image. She’s slept with a couple of teammates to, bro. I’ve heard she’s had an eye on you too.”
Liam jabbed him with an elbow in the ribs teasingly.
“No,” Chance said, grimacing. Lindsey Jacobs was hot, there was no argument there, but he didn’t like crossing paths with any friend or teammate’s previous fling or girlfriend. “It’s not her. It’s Arabella—”
“Arabella Braden?” Liam interrupted, jaw dropping open when Chance gave a nod. “I can’t believe it. I’ve asked that girl out at least a dozen times, and she always tells me that she doesn’t date football players.”
“I’m pretty sure she doesn’t date period,” Chance said. “She still hasn’t given Robert or Coach an answer yet.”
Liam snatched the football from Chance’s hands to bobble it playfully above their heads.
“I doubt she’ll say no. Knowing Robert, there is a good price sitting behind this offer.” He shook his head with a sigh. “I don’t know how you manage to do it, but things always seem to work out for you even when you’re one the one fucking it all up.”
“Funny how that works, huh?”
He dodged the football that Liam threw at his head. They joined the rest of their offensive line for practice, but halfway through a running play Coach Adam’s waved Chance over to the side of the field.
“Robert wants to speak with you,” Mark told him.
Chance pulled his helmet off, and spat out his mouth guard as well before reluctantly following him down the hallway. “What does he want to talk to me about?”
“About what we talked about yesterday.”
“So, she said yes then?”
His question was met with silence. They entered the airy conference room that overlooked the stadium. Chance got his answer when he immediately recognized a sullen faced Arabella sitting next to Robert. She didn’t spare him nothing besides a quick and withering glare.
“Ah, there is our famous quarterback causing all this ruckus,” Robert said.
He motioned with an age spotted hand to the chairs across from them. “I was just speaking with, Ms. Braden about our publicity arrangement.”
Chance groaned inwardly in dread. He should’ve known that there would be expectations and rules to this publicity stunt. “There are rules to this setup?” He took a seat directly across from Arabella, setting his helmet and mouthpiece on the table between them. “I thought we just have to be seen with another is all around the cameras.”
“Yes, you do. However,” Robert started, his stern gaze pinning Chance to the chair, “We need to make a few things clear if you wish to continue with your career as a respected quarterback in this league. Understand?”
He was sorely tempted to reply with something smart, but decided against it from the serious glance that Coach Mark sent him. Football was the only thing in the world that Chance cared about, and he wasn’t daft about the situation at hand. If he didn’t comply to Robert’s rules and expectations, he would be kissing his career in the NFL goodbye because of the bad press.
“What do you want me to do?” Chance asked, stiffly.
“First, we have scheduled an outing for you and Ms. Braden to be seen at,” Robert said. “That’ll catch some camera attention. We’ll let that go for a few days before speaking with the press about this new relationship.” He grinned brightly, revealing a set of pale white teeth. “I believe this will be a good stepping stone for some positive publicity to get fans riled up for the season again.”
Arabella spoke up then. “Do I have to travel with him on away games?”
There was something that the way Arabella said him that caused Chance’s hackles to rise. He studied her tense and petite form from across the table. Even if Arabella were visibly uncomfortable with the situation, and obviously despised him for the way her eyes cut at him, he still found her attractive. Being seen in public with her wouldn’t be a problem. It was staying faithful even if it was pretend that felt daunting. He had a strong suspicion that Arabella wasn’t the type of woman to jump into bed with someone just for the hell of it.
“Yes,” Robert replied. “Obviously, your ticket and hotel room will be paid for.”
“What about our meals on our dates?” Arabella asked.
“Excuse me,” Chance interrupted indignantly, “but I do have a million dollar contract behind my name. I think I can afford to take some broad like yourself on a date.”
Arabella’s eyes immediately narrowed at that.
“First off,” she started, icily, “my name is Arabella. Secondly, I’m well aware of how much you make a year now. Money isn’t important to me.”
“If money isn’t important to you, then why you are you doing this?” Chance retorted, hotly.
“Hold on,” Robert said, holding up a hand to silence Arabella’s reply. “Let’s not start a fight. You two are supposed to give the image of being in love.” He glanced between the two of them. “It’s obviously going to take a bit, but let’s keep our eyes on the prize here. The first game is in two weeks. Let us think of the fans here who are waiting to see what happens. Lets get them excited for the game since this league and game are all about them.”
“Of course,” Chance said. “I’m down if she is.”
Robert smiled a little at his answer. “A little more enthusiasm will do you some good, Mr. Lawrence. What do you say, Aria?”
Arabella’s lips were pursed into a thin line. “I suppose the fans are the most important aspect out of all of this.” Her eyes pierced through Chance when she looked at him harshly. “Just so we’re clear. You are not touching me outside of the camera.”
Unable to resist, Chance stared back at her with the corner of his lips curled up into a mischievous smile. “We’ll see how long you don’t want me to touch you once this starts.”
“I don’t want you to touch me,” she quipped.
“We shall see, darling. We shall see.”
Arabella glared at him with unchecked hatred. Gone was the shy woman yesterday in Robert’s office. Today, she was angry and unafraid of to say what she thought.
“We are at an agreement then,” Robert said. “Clear both of your schedules this Friday after practice. I made you both dinner reservations at the Italian restaurant a few miles away from here.”
Chance’s mood soured at that. He was never a fan of someone else organizing his life, one of the main reasons why he never got around to hiring an agent to represent him, and Friday nights were his nights to do whatever the hell he wanted to do.
“I have a party to go to,” he said, not bothering to hide his annoyance.
“You have a girlfriend now,” Coach Adams pointed out. “You don’t go to parties anymore. Not without Arabella at least. And the season is starting in two weeks. I don’t want to see alcohol in your hands.”
“Fuck,” Chance bit out, rubbing at his face in aggravation. “This is why I don’t like having a girlfriend. Ball and fucking chains.”
“It’s called being a responsible man,” Arabella said.
He opened his mouth to reply to the jab, but a swift kick at his leg from beneath the table silenced it. If being Arabella’s pretend boyfriend turned out to be more of a
headache then he couldn’t wait for the season to be over with. Even if the woman were attractive, Chance vowed to not her control the situation. He was damned tired of everyone trying to control his life.
***
Chapter Four
Arabella
Friday night was unusually humid and warm. Arabella fanned herself nervously as she stood in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom. The outfit seemed like serious girlfriend material from the turquoise colored mini skirt that complimented her legs, and the simple cropped white tank top. All of it seemed appropriate enough from her natural make up and loose fishtail braid to keep her hair out of the way.
She hoped it would be enough for the cameras.
The pit of Arabella’s stomach twisted into a painful knot of nerves. No matter the amount of preparation, her heart still raced at the thought of facing cameras, and also being in Chance’s presence in an intimate setting. She had no idea of the man was truly that full of himself to think that anything would ever transpire between them. Mark had repeatedly assured her throughout the week that while Chance had a tendency to be womanizer and an arrogant jerk at times, he would never push boundaries.
Lindsey pushed the bedroom door open with her foot while juggling two glasses of wine in one hand, a bottle in the other. She stopped dead when she caught sight of Arabella fidgeting nervously from foot to foot.
“Damn,” she said, whistling. “You look hot, Aria. I think you’re going to give Mr. Lawerence a hard time not wanting to touch you.”
Her heart dropped coldly at those words. “I should change if that’s what it looks like. I don’t want to give him the wrong—”
“Aria,” Lindsey said, placing a hand on her shoulder, “I meant that as a compliment. I know that you think men are all like you-know-who, but I can tell you that Chance won’t try anything fishy over dinner.”
“Are you sure?”
“Confident. Think about it. This is a publicity stunt to make him look better, and he knows it is part of being a professional athlete. Forcing himself on a non-consenting woman wouldn’t look too good for his career.”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” Arabella said, slowly. “You’re absolutely right. He’d be a complete moron to try anything.”
Lindsey flashed her a grin.
“Exactly. Go out, and have some fun tonight. Try to enjoy it. Not everyone gets a free meal from a fancy Italian restaurant.”
Comforted by those words, Arabella stepped outside her house thirty minutes later right as Chance parked in front of the sidewalk. He popped out of the driver’s side, dressed in a pair of nice jeans and a plain white shirt that hugged his broad chest nicely. Dark blonde locks were mused stylishly as usual, but it was hard not to ignore the butterflies that started in Arabella’s stomach again. This time, they were a different type of flutter, and Chance’s eyes roving across her in visible surprise only heightened the sensation.
Clutching her tiny leather clutch, Arabella stopped in front of the passenger door. They stared at each other for moment in silence before Chance cleared his throat.
“You look nice,” he said, a husky quality to his voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your legs before.”
The center of her cheeks burned as Chance’s eyes took in her legs with an appreciate grin. Suddenly, her skirt felt way too short, and she tugged at the hemline self-consciously.
“I just thought it would be a good idea to dress up,” she said. “This whole night was based around a romantic dinner date.”
“You got that part nailed. Let me get the door for you.”
He darted around the car with surprising speed and grace. Not too much of a surprise, Arabella thought to herself wryly. The man was a trained athlete conditioned for speed and grace.
Chance opened the door, flourishing a hand to her. “Come along. Let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving after practice.”
“Right,” Arabella said.
She slid into the warm leather seat before Chance gently closed the door. A few seconds later, they were speeding on the interstate towards the restaurant Robert had instructed them to met at. It was a place that visiting celebrities visited, and a frequent hangout for local paparazzi. Still, the food was five star delicious from the two times Arabella could afford to order take out.
It took all of Arabella’s strength not to fidget in her seat. The last time Chance and her had spoken hadn’t exactly been pleasant, but Chance appeared to be at ease as he drove with one hand on the wheel.
Chance parked in front of the private entrance for celebrities. A group of local paparazzi hung nearby with their cameras in hand, staring at their car curiously.
“Have you ever dealt with the paps before?” Chance asked.
“No,” Arabella said, and to her dismay, her nerves were back full throttle. The thought of her picture being across newspapers and gossip sites where everybody could chime in only added to the dread building in her stomach.
The nervous tremble in her voice was obviously noticeable. Chance turned in his seat to look at her curiously.
“Are you nervous about the paps or about being on a date with me?”
“Both,” she responded, honestly.
“Don’t be nervous about either. I don’t bite unless you want me too.” He flashed her a teasing grin, and continued on, “Just hold onto my hand, and keep staring at the ground. You’ll get blinded by camera lights. We aren’t supposed to talk to the paparazzi tonight.”
“Right.”
Chance opened the door to toss the keys to the valet. He gave a curt nod to the paparazzi when they immediately raised their cameras to start snapping pictures. The passenger door opened a second later.
“Grab my hand,” he told her, holding it out.
Strong calloused fingers gripped her own strongly as Chance helped her climb out of the car. True to Chance’s word, lights from their cameras flashed crazily, and it was nearly blinding. Arabella clutched Chance’s hand tightly as she kept her head down, blindly following his lead.
Minutes later, they were seated in a booth near the windows at Chance’s request. He studied the group of paparazzi that was growing steadily by the minute. Arabella toyed with the edge of her brain nervously as she felt cameras focus on them.
“How do you deal with it?” She asked.
Chance looked away from them at her question. “Deal with what?”
“People taking pictures of you like you’re a male version Taylor Swift or something.”
He chuckled genuinely at that. “You get used to it. I really don’t care about them any more. They’re just doing their job like I’m doing mine.”
Arabella traced the edge of her butter knife, trying to decipher the cheerful mood Chance was in. The only times she had ever dealt with him, there was always a dark and brooding tone to his eyes. Then again, they were supposed to appear like they were happy and in love.
“So, why are you doing this for me exactly?” Chance asked, abruptly. “I never got the chance to ask you the other day. You hate me, and I get why. So, why are you doing this?”
“I don’t hate you,” she replied.
“I think you do, deep down. I don’t have the best reputation.”
Exasperation bubbled in Arabella’s throat. It took everything in her not to reply with something sarcastic, or to point out that his reputation was ruined because of himself.
“I don’t hate people,” she repeated, this time more confidently. “I just don’t trust football players. Especially ones who sleep with a different woman every weekend. That has heartache written all over it.”
“That brings me back to my previous question. You’re doing this because…?”
“Because Robert asked me too. He’s a good a man, and my family, and I have known him for a long time. He wouldn’t ask me to do something if he didn’t think I could handle it.”
“Which means you have a nice check hanging in the balance too,” Chance observed wryly.
; His tone immediately irked Arabella’s already skittering nerves.
“How is it so different from you?”
“It’s not,” Chance said, shrugging his strong shoulders casually. “I just hate being here is all.”
The words stung deeper than Arabella wanted to admit. She blinked back the tears from her eyes, careful to keep her head turned away from the window. Go figure that her first date since what happened in college would be a disaster waiting to happen with Chance Lawrence. She wanted nothing more than to rush through their meal, skip dessert, and tell Chance to drive her home.
“I’m sorry,” Chance said, catching sight of the tears in her eyes. He looked down at the menu, a glimmer of guilt in his eyes. “I didn’t meant to sound like that. I meant, it’s just not fair that the both of us have to be stuck doing something we’d rather not be doing.”
“I get it,” Arabella said, distantly.
He looked up at her harshly then. “No, you don’t. I have a million dollar contract that also binds me to talking to paparazzi, reporters, and whoever else Robert says we have to talk to. He tells us me to jump, I’m supposed to say how high. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is? I’m actually a private person. I don’t like this anymore than you do.”
Arabella blinked rapidly at the intensity of Chance’s slip in confession. It had never occurred to her until then that Chance felt just as roped in and miserable about the publicity stunt. She picked at the edge of the polished butter knife before looking up at Chance with a sigh.
“Tell you what,” she said, “let’s just get through this season together. That way, it ends faster for the both of us. Deal?”