Red Card

by Liz Crowe

  “You can’t do this, Alicia.” His voice made her shake even harder. “I mean… you can…I just…don’t… please.”

  “You don’t have to listen to him. I don’t even know why he’s here.” Mel materialized at Metin’s shoulder, her gaze focused on Alicia. “This is your choice. Not his.”

  “Please, guzelim, my love, my heart, I beg you.”

  She gasped when he went down on one knee.

  “Oh, god, please spare the fuck out of me.” Mel threw up her hands in disgust.

  “Shut up, Mel,” they said simultaneously, keeping their eyes on each other.

  The security guard skidded to a halt behind Metin and Melanie, stopping when a nurse held up a hand to keep him from strong-arming Metin out the door. Alicia put her palm over her lips, head swimming, mouth dry.

  “I refuse to take another step in my life without you at my side.” He held a small box, opened it, blinding her with a giant diamond. “Marry me.” He did not pose it as a question.

  “Oh, I’m gonna be sick.” Saliva flooded her mouth, relief making her head even lighter. A nurse shoved past Mel and grabbed a plastic puke bowl.

  “An appropriate response,” her sister muttered, but she walked in to hold Alicia’s hair back. The room froze until the security guard cleared his throat.

  “Let’s clear out of here, people. Take the hearts and flowers elsewhere, please. Come on….”

  Metin swept her into his arms. She laid her head on his chest, more relieved than words could express at the soothing thump-thump of his heart under her ear.

  “Gross, don’t kiss me. I just threw up,” she said when he tilted her chin up.

  “Deal. But give me your hand before she talks you out of it.” She did and he slid the amazing, marquis-cut diamond onto her finger. “Well?”

  Still stunned, queasy, and wanting more than anything to get the hell out of the clinic, she nodded.

  “How the hell did you,” Mel asked from what sounded like far away.

  “Melanie, I’m sorry. But I tracked your phone here. I apologize for invading your privacy that way but….” He stopped when she held up her hand.

  “I get it, soccer boy. You’re smitten. It’s very sweet. Now, let’s go home and break all this great news to Dad, shall we?” Her voice was hard, but her smile gave Alicia a small flicker of hope that maybe she would come to terms with it, with her and Metin, together.

  Chapter Twelve

  Metin faced her father, who sat, flanked by his daughters. Mel glared at him. Alicia remained green around the gills, but kept smiling. He focused on that for strength.

  “I come to you today to humbly ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.” He kept his voice steady. “Sir, I love Alicia with every fiber of my being. I will take care of her like no other man. But we will not proceed without your blessing.”

  Mel rolled her eyes and made a huffing noise. Alicia shot her a dirty look then touched her father’s arm. The dazzling diamond must have caught the older man’s eye. He stared at it then cleared his throat. Metin saw him for what he was then—a man who made an excellent living for his family, had lost his wife to a tragic disease, and merely tried to do the best for those left in his care.

  “Truly, sir, I am not asking for your blessing as a formality. I require it, if Alicia and I are to marry.”

  Trevor Matthews ran a hand down his face. “Give me the whole story please, someone. Didn’t you guys just meet, a month ago, at the party downtown?”

  Mel crossed her arms over her chest and smirked at Metin. It struck him again—her amazing, angular beauty, and the visceral hate he’d been nurturing for hours. She had very nearly … he refused to think about it. Despising Alicia’s sister was not a good way to start his entry into the family.

  “Daddy, it’s….”

  “No, Alicia. Your father should know the truth.” He placed his hands on the table in front of him. “Alicia is carrying my child. But even if she were not, I would still be sitting here, asking you the same question. We met at the party, yes, only two months ago. But I feel as if I have known her forever. I tried to return to my life in Spain, to pick up where I left off. But I cannot….” He glanced away. “Forgive me. I am Turkish. We are very emotional.”

  “Let me get this straight,” the older man intoned, moving his arm out from under Alicia’s hand. “You met her two months ago, have managed to get her pregnant, and she is supposed to … what? Toss away her own career? The one she worked so hard her entire life for?” He shook his head, got up, and paced. “Alicia, you just got the Portland placement, and we both know that won’t last. You’ll be traded out to a better team in no time. It’s what you’ve always wanted. Help me understand this.” His low voice rumbled around the room.

  “I have no plans to curtail Alicia’s career. Anything she chooses to do relative to that is her decision alone.”

  Mel leapt to her feet. “No, see, that’s where you’re wrong, Metin.” She put an unnecessary emphasis on his name. “Thanks to your little stunt today, you have stripped Alicia of that choice. What do you think? She’s gonna leave the baby with you in Spain and return to Portland to play? You and your macho bullshit, self-righteous attitude have ruined my sister’s life.” Her last words came at him hard, hitting him right between the eyes. He blinked.

  “Now hold on a minute, Melanie.” Her father patted her arm, but she kept glaring at Metin, her face an alarming shade of red. “I think that Metin and Alicia can decide to….”

  “Hey!”

  Everyone turned to face Alicia, who now stood gripping her father’s chair, wobbly but with her face set.

  “I think it would be swell if everyone in here,” she stared first at Mel and then at him, “would stop talking about me as if I were not in the damn room.”

  Mel dropped into a chair. Metin wanted so badly for her to like him, to understand his intentions were good, that he would not hurt Alicia. But he’d be damned if he begged for it.

  “You’re right.” Trevor put an arm around his younger daughter. “God, I so wish your mother were here.” He sat, looking at his hands. “I have messed everything up for you girls. Left you to fend for yourselves and now….” He pinned Metin with a hard glare. “Listen to me, Sevim. I fucked this up once with a man named Scott Miller. I trusted him with my Melanie’s heart, and he stomped on it like it was his job. I will not let that happen… to either of my girls, ever again.”

  “Mr. Matthews, I solemnly swear that it will not. Ever. I am at your service and in your debt for allowing me to….”

  “I need a drink,” Trevor declared, holding up a hand. “Who else needs a drink?”

  Metin’s eyes widened as Mel walked over to the sideboard and took out a crystal decanter of amber liquor and three heavy-looking glasses. She splashed a bit into each one and held hers up.

  “Here’s to the new son-in-law,” she said, not waiting for them to respond before downing her portion and pouring herself another. “Hopefully you picked better than I did, sis.” She plunked the glass down and stomped out, leaving awkward silence in her wake.

  Trevor touched his glass to Metin’s. “Welcome to the family, son. God help you.” He sipped. Metin joined him, his heart light for the first time in weeks. “So, are you kids staying here, or what? When do you need to get back? How are we working this wedding thing? Once Melanie gets over her snit, she’ll jump into the planning with gusto I’m sure, right, honey?” He patted Alicia’s hand, poured himself another healthy portion, keeping his eyes averted out onto the picture perfect day.

  Alicia glanced at Metin then walked to her father and hugged him. “I love you, Daddy. And you didn’t fuck anything up. Neither did Mel. Scott was a guy who fooled us all. As for the wedding… um… I’m not sure….”

  Metin joined them. “I would be honored to host the wedding at my family’s home in Istanbul. I have another month before my season really starts. The invitation extends to all of you.” He made sure Mel, who’d returned to lean
in the doorway of the study, could hear. “You, sir, Mel and her boys, any of your friends or other family, everyone is welcome. We will pay all the costs of travel for anyone you want to bring. And… well, I think the sooner the better. So we can figure out our living arrangements and the plan for after the baby comes.”

  “Spain has a pretty decent women’s team, I hear,” Trevor mused. He kissed the top of Alicia’s head and handed her over to Metin, who smiled at her blush.

  “Yes, they do. She will not stop playing, that much I promise you.”

  “You are such a charmer.” Alicia snuggled into Metin’s side in the back seat of a taxi. They’d taken their slightly awkward leave once her father sorted out that she intended to stay with Metin at his hotel for the next couple of days.

  “Yes, well, my charms fall flat with the one woman I wish would not hate my guts so much.”

  “Ah, Mel. She’s overprotective to a fault.”

  He picked up her hand and put it to his lips. Her heart pounded and for the first time in weeks, nausea and exhaustion did not debilitate her. A distinctly different sensation had taken hold. One she intended to deal with beginning now.

  In one quick move, she sat straddling his lap, grinning when he hardened instantly underneath her. “I need to know something,” she whispered before biting his earlobe. He shivered and ran his hands down her back.

  “Mmm hmmm?” His fluttery kisses along her neck revved up her libido another notch. “Damn, you taste good, different somehow, even more delicious than ever.” He kissed and licked his way along her shoulder.

  “This ring.” She held it up to admire. “It’s not Graciella’s cast off, is it?”

  He chuckled, sliding a hand up her shirt to cup her bare breast. She’d taken a shower after the Big Confrontation, leaving her father and Metin to ponder travel arrangements to Turkey, wanting to wash the medicinal smell of the clinic out of her nose. But she’d pulled on another set of sweats, without underwear before packing a quick bag with something dressier and jeans for the next day. She had no intention of going anywhere but straight into the sack with her man, and staying there a good long while. Clothing would be optional at worst, unnecessary at best.

  “Ah no, my darling. Hers was much, much bigger than this. I got a great trade-in deal, actually.”

  She punched his arm, but kissed him anyway and barely remembered the short ride down to the giant casino hotel where they’d met.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “One thing you’d better remember about me….” She laughed when he dropped her on the giant bed, yanked her sweats off, and then sank down between her legs.

  “What’s that? I’ll be sure and make notes.” He licked his way up the inside of her thigh.

  “I like it on the rough side.”

  “You think I didn’t figure that out already?” He muttered, before focusing on the task before him.

  “Well, maybe,” she said, gasping. “Je-sus, have mercy.” The knee-jerk orgasm made her shudder. “You are way overdressed, my love.”

  He stepped away from her, fingers to his mouth. “You taste so…ripe,” he whispered. “God, I want to fuck you all day, take a nap, then start all over again.”

  “Well, I’m glad to know our to-do lists match up. C’mere, already. Enough talking.” She reached out and tugged him forward by his shirt, unzipped him, and fisted his thick cock. “My turn to taste,” she whispered.

  Gliding one hand down to cup his balls, she took him in her mouth, then released her suction, looking up so she could watch him watching her. Shivering when he fisted her hair and tugged hard. “Yes…” he hissed. “Do it.”

  She tasted how close he was and her own body fired up again. When she caught sight of them in the floor-to-ceiling mirror on the closet door, it was almost more than she could take. She pressed her finger into him, going deep, triggering his release.

  He cried out her name, leaning over her with the effort of his climax.

  “Have mercy.” He fell back on the bed. “Nice trick. One of my favorites.” They lay for a moment, catching their breath. When nausea tickled her throat again, she groaned.

  “Shower time. Then I need to eat something. Then we start all over again.”

  Metin rolled up onto his side, ran his fingertips down her face, neck, breasts, and came to rest with his warm palm on her stomach. She covered his hand with hers and the ever-present tears slid down her face.

  “I love you, Alicia. More than life itself. And I love this.” He kissed her belly, once, twice, again. “Our child. Let’s plan a wedding. I can’t wait to call you my wife. My. Wife. Mine.”

  “You’re a pig,” she declared. But she’d never been happier.

  Metin tried to warn her that once his mother and sisters-in-law got hold of her, they’d be a little overwhelming, wanting to get hair and nails done, shop, do all the sorts of things Alicia didn’t really enjoy. She’d rather sit and watch football matches with him and his brothers. They had discussed it. And she’d declared herself prepared.

  But the moment came, soon after they stepped into the foyer of his parent’s villa on the edge of the Bosporus, once his mother had given him the requisite kiss on both cheeks and smack to the head for never coming home enough. She then faced Alicia, who, despite the long plane ride and the fact that she still spent half her day puking, seemed to glow with happiness.

  Taking both her hands, his mother held them out, gave her a frank, long, top-to-toe sweep of her eyes, and said to Metin in Turkish, “A fine mother for my grandchildren. But a little tall, no?”

  Alicia shot him a worried look, but he laughed. His mother had always been queen of the left-handed compliment. “She says you are beautiful, exactly as she envisioned.”

  His mother frowned at him for translating her badly, but he shot her a warning glare.

  In her high heels, Alicia stood as tall as he, but he loved it. He loved the power she wore like jewelry. She’d worked just as hard as he to be a professional athlete. He wanted her to flaunt it, never be ashamed of any part of herself.

  As he leaned close to kiss her because he could hardly get enough of that activity, his sisters-in-law barreled into the entryway, ooing and ahing over her golden hair, her smart skirt and blouse and heels, her earrings. Which quickly led to cries of “Oh…Metin,” when they got a load of her engagement ring.

  A tide of Turkish females literally swept Alicia away from him. She glanced back at him once, her anxiety clear. But he shrugged, shot her an I-told-you-so eyebrow raise and went to find his father.

  It was almost dark before he saw her again. She dropped into a large leather chair next to him and put a hand on his leg. He took in the lacquered nails, carefully coiffed hair, and the new outfit. Pretty much like he’d figured.

  “Help me,” she muttered from the side of her smiling mouth as the women came in carrying tea for the crowd and some cold meze—appetizers they’d consume while finalizing the wedding details. Dinner wouldn’t start until nearly nine o’clock, something else he’d tried to prepare her for.

  She sipped her strong tea, looking surprised when his mother squeezed an entire half a lemon into the small cup. “It’s good for you.” She put her hand right on Alicia’s flat stomach. “Which is good for my grandson.”

  Metin smacked her hand away and threaded his fingers through Alicia’s, calming her as the Turkish infused English swirled around them. Contentment thrummed through his every cell. Being here, his home, in Istanbul, rather than Spain or anywhere else always made him the happiest. He anticipated plenty of quality time here the coming year, preparing for the World Cup with his national team, and of course, welcoming his son into the world.

  They were still trying to sort out exactly how they’d manage her trying to play. But for now, the prime directives of wedding and pregnancy consumed him, so he’d turned the first of those tasks over to the most organized woman he knew. His mother loved nothing more than planning parties, and the wedding of her beloved youngest boy
would get the full focus on her attention, he knew. Metin remained confident he and Alicia would sort the rest out, together.

  Her father, sister, and nephews arrived in two days. The wedding had been planned for the week after that. The weather looked promising. And his mother had gone into predictable hyper drive to ensure perfection for every detail of the event.

  His tux already hung in the closet upstairs. The dressmaker would be on hand the next morning to conduct Alicia’s fitting. She’d chosen a style and, thanks to the plethora of expert seamstresses in Istanbul, it would be crafted for her from the best materials money could buy.

  When he started to argue politics with one of his brothers, Alicia slumped against him.

  “Metin, Alicia is tired,” his mother said. “You’re being a bad host. Go show her the room, let her rest, poor thing.”

  The room erupted with efforts to half-carry her out and up three flights of steps. He’d never been more annoyed yet enthralled with his busybody family.

  The Istanbul night sky filled the huge glass wall of his top floor, boyhood room. The European side of his city never failed to enthrall him, this house having been built to maximize the view of its hills, trees, expensive housing and ancient monuments.

  He leaned on the closed door and watched her remove her shoes and drop into a huge chair, facing the bank of windows.

  “Fucking-A. You were not kidding. I’m wiped out listening to them all, much less the terrifying car ride we took to the shops and hair dresser and….”

  To his surprise, she started to cry. He crouched at her side, took her cold hands between his. “I’m sorry. I know. There really isn’t anything I can do about them.”

  “Oh, god, Metin, I just… I’m so… tired and dizzy and….”

  He pulled her up, holding her close. “My love, it will all be fine. You rest. You’ll feel better for dinner.”