Dorian (Sports Billionaire Part 2)

by Carlos Dash

  Dorian

  Sports Billionaire (Part 2)

  Carlos Dash

  Copyright © 2017 by Carlos Dash

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Cover Credit and Warning

  Author Bio/ Mailing List

  Links to follow

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Cover design by Cormar Covers

  Warning: This book contains strong sexual content and language

  The events and characters described in the pages within are all works of fiction. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental

  Carlos Dash is the pen name for a married couple, who both enjoy steamy stories about arrogant men falling in love. And our stories always end on a happy note.

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  Introduction

  Every once in a while, you’ll see two people who are meant to fall in love. Everything flows perfectly for them. Imaginary birds are flying around their heads and singing love songs to them. Other couples are walking by and becoming jealous at how in love the two people are. It’s all constantly wonderful and gooey.

  Then there are people who aren’t supposed to end up together but do so anyway. They fight fate and destiny, if those two things actually exist. They fall in love with each other even though that isn’t part of life’s plan.

  I’m not sure which category Emily and I belong to.

  Sometimes I think it’s the former. Sometimes I think it’s the latter. It all depends on what mood I’m in.

  But at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter. What does matter is the fact that we have love on our side.

  As for whether that love was preordained or something that we brought about through sheer force of will, I’ll let you decide that for yourself.

  My name is Dorian Alexander, and this is a story about a girl who would change my life forever.

  Chapter 1

  The contact between myself and Emily is electric. For a fleeting moment, I think about not letting her go. Seeing her again and being able to touch her triggers something in me. An inner possessive animal.

  I wonder if she’s experiencing a similar sensation. If she is, she’s doing a good job of hiding it. The smile on her face doesn’t have any mischief behind it. It’s the ordinary smile of someone meeting a stranger for the first time.

  A good actress.

  “Right then,” Coach Reed says, clapping his hands together. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s converge on the dining room. Sarah tends to get a bit moody if the food gets cold.”

  Emily rolls her eyes as an idea hits me about how to get her alone.

  “I’d like to wash my hands first, if that’s okay. Where’s the bathroom?”

  Coach Reed opens his mouth to say something, but Emily jumps in, catching on. “There are a couple of them, but they’re all on the second or third floor. Follow me, I’ll show you.”

  Coach Reed doesn’t look the least bit suspicious. He just tells his daughter to escort me to the dining room when I’m done, and then leaves to placate his wife.

  Susan is a little slower to go, and her eyes linger on me and the girl. When she finally shuffles off, Emily sighs in relief and gestures for me to follow her. She doesn’t say anything until we’re on the staircase that leads to the second floor.

  “So do you actually have to wash your hands, or did you just want to be alone with me?”

  Admitting to just the latter would make me feel a bit pathetic, so I compromise. “Both, actually.”

  “Alright then. Third door on the left. I assume you don’t need me to come in with you.”

  There we go. There’s that wicked smile.

  “No, I rarely require assistance while attempting to do anything. That’s even truer for when I’m in the bathroom.” She isn’t avoiding eye contact now, but there’s a sense of nervousness there that I can detect.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “What does it look like? I’m having dinner. I was invited by your father.”

  Emily’s smile falters. “You’re the Dorian he’s been talking about. Didn’t see that coming.”

  “How many other Dorians do you think there are in this state?”

  “It’s not that uncommon of a name,” she said defensively.

  I raise an eyebrow at her. “Name one guy you know who has that same name?”

  The girl scoffs and massages her forehead. “For all I knew, that wasn’t even your real name. You never told me what you do for a living. How could I have known that you were my father’s Dorian? He never mentioned your last name. And it’s not like I follow football anyway.”

  “I’m not your father’s Dorian,” I state firmly. “He’s the coach of my team. That’s all. No one owns me.”

  “Oh, you know what I mean.”

  We fall into a silence, one that we need to pull out of quickly. We can’t afford to be missing from the dining table for too long. Emily’s family will start to wonder where we are and what exactly we’re doing.

  “I think your aunt is onto us.”

  “Onto us? Meaning what? We’re not doing anything wrong. Just talking.”

  “But if she suspects that we do actually know each other, that could lead to some unfortunate revelations.”

  “She’ll drop the issue and start criticizing my mom’s cooking or my choice of earrings. Mark my words. You don’t have anything to worry about. By the time we get down to the table, she’ll have forgotten all about that little outburst you had when you first saw me.”

  I recoil at the memory of that. Not one of my prouder moments.

  “I panicked. Can you blame me? I’m sure you were just as shocked.”

  “Sure, but I knew to keep my mouth shut.”

  I reluctantly take my eyes off of Emily’s face and look around at the hall we’re in. “This is quite a house. Must have cost quite a bit.”

  “I guess,” Emily replies with a shrug. “But only shallow people care about stuff like that. Who cares. Money doesn’t equal happiness.”

  Was that supposed to be a dig at me? Does she think I’m shallow?

  I try to think o
f a quick response, but then decide to let the matter pass.

  Plus, who could ever get angry at a face like that.

  But there’s a noticeable difference between her personality here and her personality back at my place. She seems more confident now. More at ease around me. We’re in her neck of the woods.

  Yet, the nervousness about seeing me in her home hasn’t tapered off completely.

  “Look who came out of her shell,” I tease.

  Emily crosses her arms and comes a little closer to me. The smell of her shampoo wafts into my nostrils. Her entire essence is intoxicating. It’s dangerous for me to be this close to her. “Hurry up and wash your hands. Any longer up here and my parents will think you’ve abducted me and taken me out the window.”

  Don’t give me ideas.

  Damn! She’s doing it to me again.

  What is this power she has over me? Witchcraft? It has to be witchcraft, right? Voodoo is an option, as well.

  I normally don’t believe in that crap, but it has to be something like that.

  The only other explanation is that I’m losing my mind.

  Chapter 2

  Emily and I decide that it wouldn’t be smart of us to arrive to the dining table at the same time. The girl goes in first, explains that she needed to guide me to a bathroom to prevent me from getting lost, and then about twenty seconds later I come in and sit down.

  There are several empty seats around the large table, but only one of them has fine china in front of it. I try to get comfortable and ease my tension. Emily is seated directly across from me, but there are several white dishes between us.

  I hope we won’t have to reach for something at the same time.

  “There you are,” Coach Reed says to me, not looking annoyed or impatient in the least. “I thought you might have discovered a secret passageway.”

  “No secret passageways so far,” I answer, forcing a light chuckle. “So what’s for dinner? I’m starving, and something smells delicious.” I rub my hands together enthusiastically.

  Mr. and Mrs. Reed both look at me with curiosity. I know what they’re thinking. They want to know what happened to the man who appeared to be so introverted and guarded a few moments ago—What exactly has come over him.

  They can only imagine theories, whereas you’re going to get the actual explanation.

  It’s Emily. Seeing her there and talking to her somehow makes me more tense and more relaxed at the same time. I’ve never met someone who can do that to me. Her mere presence makes me question who I really am.

  Fight it, Dorian! The more you think about her now, the harder it will be for you to get over her later. Don’t do this to yourself. She’s just a chick. Plenty of fish in the sea.

  This is a twist of fate I didn’t see coming, but I tell myself not to go gaga over her again. Needless to say it in’t the easiest dinner I’ve ever sat through. I thought any difficulty I would encounter there would be attributed to Coach Reed’s family asking me too many questions, but that isn’t the case. It isn’t their fault. It’s mine. I’m fighting an inner battle with myself the whole way, and it’s hard to tell which side is winning.

  Whenever the coach’s family members do ask me a question (and it’s always his wife or Susan. Never Emily, who stays as quiet as a mouse throughout the meal), I answer brightly and with enthusiasm, glad to have any excuse to think about something other than Emily, even if that reprieve only lasts a few seconds.

  By the time dessert rolls around, I’ve talked about everything from my duties at the company, to my lack of family. Thankfully, no one presses me for information about why exactly my mother and father aren’t around. These are intelligent people. They understand that they don’t know me well enough to inquire about such things.

  Emily, meanwhile, just focuses on the food in front of her. And when she isn’t eating, she keeps her lips pursed tightly together. If she wanted to, she could have told them all about my unconventional upbringing. But that would have led to a whole new series of questions—Such as how exactly she was privy to that information.

  That’s a can of worms neither of us wants opened.

  “So, Dorian,” Coach Reed begins, swallowing down the last of his tiramisu, “Emily’s been off from college for about six weeks now. She’s got another month and a half to go, and I don’t want her just wasting time with those friends of hers. I thought perhaps she could come and work for us.”

  Never before have I been so completely unable to prevent myself from smiling. My eyes dart up to meet Emily’s, and to my utter delight she looks put out.

  “Now that’s an idea,” I say, my instincts roaring their approval, but my common sense sounding the alarms. Emily being inside the training facility all the time, possibly running into me… that’s a very dangerous proposition.

  But I want it. I want her to be there. To be near me.

  “Do you have a department in mind?”

  Coach Reed wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Not really. There are several places I could put her. Sort of like a summer internship. Something for her resume after she graduates.”

  The words just fly out of my mouth. “How about letting her work with me? I could use an assistant.”

  Chapter 3

  I make a conscious effort to avoid looking at Emily. She did a good job of keeping her face stoic upon first seeing me in the house, but there’s no way she’ll be as composed now. What I said must have shaken her. Her mind has to be full of different thoughts and emotions. Perhaps even a little anger aimed towards me.

  “Your assistant?” the coach says, looking mildly perplexed.

  “That’s right. I won’t give her anything too hard to do. Just some minor errands. I am the starting quarterback, after all. And she wouldn’t even be a full-time assistant. Just while I’m in the training facility.”

  I think I played that perfectly. Nothing about my body language gives away how badly I’m craving this.

  “Don’t you already have one? I would think a man in your position would have a couple of assistants.”

  “Nope,” I say with an indifferent shrug. “I’ve had a few in the past, but nothing worked out. I guess I just like doing things myself too much.” I glance at Emily. “But for your daughter I’ll make an exception.”

  Coach Reed exchanges a look with his wife. She doesn’t seem to mind the idea. “I think that could work,” the man says with a smile. “What do you say, Emily? Any objections?”

  I’m sure she has plenty of objections, but I know she won’t voice any of them aloud. That will be yet another thing that will leads to questions she won’t want to answer.

  “No, can’t think of a single thing.”

  And she looks right at me as she says that. Her eyes have taken on a steely appearance. If she could get away with it, she would probably kick me under the table to vent her frustration.

  “Then it’s settled,” the coach says in approval. “I trust you’ll find a way to keep her busy.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I’ll be able to think up something to keep her on her toes.” I wonder if we could sneak away and have sex somewhere inside the training facility. I’m confident I could convince her to go along with it, as long as we have privacy.

  But is it too dangerous? What if somebody were to walk in on us? It would be bad enough to get caught screwing the coach’s daughter, but to be doing it inside of that building of all places… that would be enough to get even me in trouble.

  “Then I guess I’ll see you on Monday, Emily,” I say, backing my seat away from the table and getting to my feet.

  “Leaving so soon?” Mrs. Reed says, rising out of her own seat. “Did you not like the food?”

  “Can’t say I blame him,” Susan mutters under her breath, insulting Mrs. Reed’s cooking just like Emily predicted she might.

  “Yes, I better get going. I don’t want to keep you guys any longer.”

  “Stick around, Mr. Alexander,” Emily says indifferently. “We could play chara
des or something.”

  Very clever.

  Emily is trying to get a little bit of revenge. She knows that asking someone like me to play charades is like asking a redneck if he wants to watch a soccer match.

  Both I and the redneck would rather be pushed into a volcano.

  “No, that’s alright. I’m not much for board games.”

  “What’s the rush? Got a hot date tonight?”

  Now that’s an idea.

  “Actually, yes. I have a date. I’m meeting her for drinks in…” I trail off and check my watch for the time, “about twenty minutes. It is, after all, a Friday night.”

  Emily’s expression shows that she didn’t expect that response. She was trying to mess with me with that rubbish about having a hot date, but I turned it to my advantage, leaving her to wonder if I really do have a date with someone.

  Is she jealous?

  Maybe. It’s hard to tell.

  “Then best of luck,” Coach Reed says, getting up from his seat and coming over to me to shake my hand. “Wait, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean it as in I hope you get some action tonight. Not that kind of luck.”

  “Dad, please!” Emily looks like she wants to vomit. Hearing a parent say the words “get some action tonight” might be enough to give anyone extreme nausea.