by London Casey
“What?”
“I’m going to go, with Ted, and defend you. A simple player disagreement. This has to get off the table. Or you’re fucked. The bullshit with the bar? That’s been quiet. That’s good. The guy you hit doesn’t seem to care. The guy that owns the bar doesn’t remember much and can’t find any tapes. Everyone has moved on. But you, Roman, you need to just hide. Stay in the gym. Stay on the field. Go fuck that pretty little legal counsel of yours.”
“Hey,” I growled. “Watch your fucking mouth, Mackey. Don’t…”
Mackey grinned. “What? You got it hard for her and she won’t put out. Good for you.”
Mackey grabbed his jacket and started to walk. I jumped up. I grabbed his arm. “I’m going to talk to the Commissioner.”
“No, you’re not.”
Mackey’s office door opened and a woman stood there, white faced. “Uh… Robert is here.”
The Commissioner.
“Fuck,” Mackey said.
He looked at me.
I was in a black t-shirt. Old jeans. I looked as I always did, except that when most players met the Commissioner they were in a suit.
“Send him in,” I said.
“I’m going to have a heart attack,” Mackey said.
“At least this job pays well.”
I folded my arms and leaned against the corner.
Robert was tall and skinny. He always looked tired and miserable. Behind him were two legal goons, notepads in their hands, diligently taking notes and offering suggestions.
“I spoke with Shawn’s agent,” Robert said. “The situation is delicate, of course.”
“Delicate?” I asked. “Look, with all due respect here, we had a fight. Two men in the heat of a battle. He was mad about my throw. I was mad about his placement. If anything, you should be supporting us?”
“Oh, Christ,” Mackey said.
“Excuse me, Mr. Knight?”
“Skip the pleasantries,” I said. “Call me Roman.”
“Fair enough, Roman.”
“More than half of your league is spread out across the world. You know your heart is shaking with fear because there’s going to be a slew of lawsuits, DUI’s, and other bullshit things to deal with. I’m in the gym. I’m on the field. I’m trying to make myself better so your product is better. Shawn came and wanted to practice. I didn’t ask for the press to find their way in and take pictures. That’s something the Dragons will address.”
“Legal proceedings are underway,” Robert said.
“There you go. Doesn’t it matter that myself and Shawn care so much about this game… this team… this league…”
“Save it,” Robert said. “We’re trying to run a youth campaign. The last thing I need is a seven-year-old in a Roman Knight jersey swinging at another kid.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“Then why the fucking meeting?” I asked.
Mackey jumped forward. “Robert, I’m sorry. Emotions are high. My client is passionate about his job. His season ended on a sour note. A pass to the very man he had an altercation with today. You have to see the connection in all this.”
“Granted, the teammate situation is one thing. But… the bar fight? That’s not done with me yet. Not to mention the list of previous events. It all adds up, Roman.”
“So do my passing yards,” Roman said. “And my touchdowns. The ratings when I’m on TV. Sales of my jerseys. Need I go on here?”
I looked at Mackey and shrugged my shoulders.
“Perhaps there’s a better time to meet,” Mackey said. “Just you and me, Robert. And Ted. He was supposed to meet with us…”
“I’m sorry I showed up like this,” Robert said. “I cannot have teammates fighting. I cannot have a star quarterback and a star wide receiver ending up hurt.”
“Fine,” I said. “I won’t punch Shawn ever again. My word, Robert.”
“Your word is worth dick,” Robert said. “You think you can’t be replaced, Roman? I’ll ban you from this season. I’ll drag you through court. That story will increase ratings. People will watch the Dragons to see how they fair without their quarterback. You are not untouchable. I will fuck you.”
Robert turned and pushed away his two goons. They all left the office.
Mackey fell into his chair and grabbed his hair.
“I think he likes me,” I said.
“You’re screwed, Roman. I can’t save you. I can’t do this anymore. I’m going to quit. I’m going to fucking quit and start over. Sell the car. The house.”
“Jesus Christ, Mackey,” I said. “Relax.”
He stood up and grabbed his jacket again. This time he got to the door. He looked back at me. “You know, Roman, sometimes you really let me down.”
Great. That was just what I needed to hear.
I couldn’t blame him, he didn’t know… that’s the exact same thing my father said to me before he beat me unconscious for the first time.
I had two beers and stopped.
Hell surged through my veins. I couldn’t contain myself. My contact guy had told me whatever I needed for the night was mine. He was on call for me. Women, pills, something to smoke. Whatever.
I had to be careful though. The league was on my ass. If they tested me for anything…
Pussy wouldn’t show up on a piss test.
I grabbed my phone.
What did I want?
Blonde… black hair? Tall. Short. Big tits. Little tits. Piercings.
Anything I wanted.
My hands shook as I debated what to do.
Before I could make my call, my phone rang.
It was Caine.
“What?” I asked.
“He’s not dead,” Caine said.
“He’s going to get surgery soon. Thought you should know. Might be time, Roman. Think about this for a second. I know how you feel.”
“You don’t know how I fucking feel.”
“Okay. You don’t think I remember you protecting me? Holding me down and absorbing those blows? I’ll never forget it, Roman. I’ll never be able to repay you. But you can’t let this just go to the grave.”
“Fuck you, Caine.”
“Fuck you, Roman.”
There was silence.
I shut my eyes.
A few seconds later I said, “Send me the info.”
“If you decide to come up, bring that lawyer woman of yours,” Caine said. “I’d like to stick my-”
“I will kill you,” I said.
Caine laughed and hung up.
He then texted me the hospital information.
What the fuck was I supposed to do now? Face the man that tried to destroy me? Tell him I couldn’t wait for him to die?
My fingers pressed a few buttons and next thing I knew, I was calling Willow.
She was the only one who understood me. She was the only one who could help me.
Fuck, I really needed her.
(Willow)
My life had become exhausting.
Roman called me about his father, rambling like a fool. He ended up getting drunk and falling asleep on the phone. I had to go to his place and check on him. He was on the couch and that’s where I left him. It took all my might to leave him there. What I wanted to do was climb next to him and hold him. Rock him and tell him he was going to be okay. Find a way to make him open to me fully.
I forced myself to leave.
I met Trevor that night for a drink. It was more casual than a date. We had a couple drinks, talked, laughed. He flirted, I accepted it, and then he kissed my cheek. Truthfully, if he had made a move I would have let him go at it. But he didn’t. Which told me either he was a wimp or just a good guy.
We also made real plans for our real date. It was supposed to happen weeks ago but our plans kept conflicting. Not to mention my feelings for Roman kept conflicting. One second I wanted to pin Roman down and force him to talk to me. One second I wanted to just find someone
- Trevor - and make everything else go away.
The situation honestly was taking a toll on me.
I should have been worried about my date with Trevor. Wasn’t that what normal women did? They worried about their hair, clothes, makeup, all that stuff. But I wasn’t worried about it at all. To me, being with Trevor was already like settling and that meant it didn’t matter. Was that unfair? Probably. But I couldn’t help what my heart was feeling.
What mattered was cracking Roman. It had become my obsession. Nobody really knew why he was the way he was. It drove me crazy because if he was calmer, I could get out of this babysitting thing, and maybe we could be something.
Yeah, right.
I sat on the edge of my bed, leafing through more depositions. It was my third time going at it because my focus was out of control. The words made sense but I just didn’t care.
I thought about the emotion in Roman’s voice on the phone.
“Stop caring,” I whispered. “What the hell… are you in love with him?”
The words barely got out of my mouth before I felt something flip in my stomach. I shut the folder and grabbed the sheets on my bed. I swallowed hard and let out a breath. My stomach jumped again and I looked around.
No, no, no…
I spotted the small garbage can next to my desk and jumped for it. I barely made it before I got sick. I didn’t feel sick, but I got sick. This was something new to me now. The stress and worry making me sick. Day after day now.
Because of Roman. Because of what had gone through my mind.
In love with him? That couldn’t happen. He would never love me. It would never work. I’d forever be in limbo, stuck between worry and orgasm, hating one and loving the other. It wasn’t fair to me or him.
I caught my breath and had to go clean the garbage can.
Then I took a shower and got ready for work.
What a way to start a morning.
“Willow? You in here?”
I lifted my hand and waved.
I was on my knees, almost under my desk, trying to make sure nobody heard me convulsing. My stomach was empty even though I hadn’t eaten anything.
This was what I had become because of Roman. Each time I thought of him I would get sick. Because he was starting to really matter to me. The sports thing was starting to grow on me the more I learned. Roman was the giant man filled with mystery that I couldn’t stop demanding to know.
I sat back up and grabbed a tissue. “Sorry.”
“What was that?” Leslie asked.
“I dropped my pen.”
“No you didn’t. Are you sick?”
“Bad eggs,” I lied.
“You don’t eat eggs.”
“Exactly,” I said. “What’s wrong?”
“I heard a noise. I thought you were crying.”
“No. Just…”
“Finding your pen,” Leslie said with a grin.
“Exactly.”
“Why don’t you go home? I mean, I’m not telling you what to do, but Jay and Johnny aren’t here today. Some big case. There’s really nothing to do. Johnny has shifted almost all of your cases elsewhere. You really have one job. Roman.”
“Wonderful,” I said. “I can’t wait until this is over.”
“Is it that bad?”
I stared at Leslie. “It’s something.”
“You should go home though. You look tired and pale. I’d say eat something but seems you can’t.”
“Okay, I’m leaving then. You’ve convinced me.”
I grabbed my stuff and made a line for the door. Leslie did have a point. My office didn’t have much use these days. All I needed was to have my cell on and handy in case Roman got himself into trouble.
I called him on the way home but he didn’t answer. I gave him a quick and honest message: Stay out of trouble today.
Back at the apartment, I slept for another two hours, woke up, ate, and felt great. There was just something about being lazy, knowing I should have been dressed up but I was in pajama pants in the middle of the day.
Scarlett woke up around two in the afternoon and we ended up going to get a bite to eat for a late lunch for me and breakfast for her. She was in the middle of some big art gallery thing and had been staying up to watch the sunrise everyday for some kind of inspiration. She told me it was about the birthing light that gave her the power to birth her own art.
The word birth irked me because it was too much of a real world word. It made me think of family, love, happiness, and face it, all of that collected together and pointed a big, fat arrow right at Roman. Because he had a broken family. Just like me. Because I maybe wanted to be close to him and experience family. But he didn’t. He never would.
As the day crawled forward, my obsession with checking my phone had become noticeable.
Scarlett grabbed my phone and tucked it in her back pocket. She then grabbed a knife out of the knife block and pointed it at me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked.
“Saving you. What’s with the phone? What’s with being home?”
“Didn’t I…” I shook my head. “My only case right now is Roman. I don’t need to be at the office. That explains the phone. I’ve been trying to get in touch with him all day. If he gets into trouble, I look bad. If he ends up in jail, I’m screwed. My entire career hinges on the actions of an unstable man.”
“That’s a lot of pressure.”
“Yeah. So much so that I got sick this morning.”
“You were sick?”
“Not like stomach bug sick. Just… sick.”
Scarlett grinned. “Here’s what I need you to do, Willow. Go take a hot bath. Please. Let yourself relax. No phone. It’ll be in your bedroom on your bed. Okay? Nothing is going to happen for an hour. You look so out of it right now.”
I am out of it. I’m falling for Roman and he hasn’t called me yet today… I know how he acts and what if he is with another woman?
“Just do it,” Scarlett said.
A hot bath and bubbles didn’t sound all that bad. Me, alone, a couple candles. Relaxing, breathing, trying to get these feelings to sort themselves out. I was supposed to go on a date with Trevor tonight. I was considering canceling it but maybe a hot bath and a night out was exactly what I needed. Trevor could become the distraction I needed. Hell, I’d let him in my pants to help even.
Twenty minutes later I was in a hot bath, two candles lit, and I was phone free. There were bubbles everywhere. The bathroom was dark except the flickering of the tiny flames. I took deep breaths, letting the lavender scent of the bubbles go up my nose. I convinced myself it was going to be relaxing.
I looked to my left. I had an image of Roman…
The bathroom door slowly opens. There he is. He’s shirtless, his body glistening with sweat. His muscles are thick and throbbing, obviously from working so hard at the gym. He’s in black shorts; they stand no chance against the size of his legs - or his dick. Everything is so defined. I’m wet. Not just bathwater wet, but wet-wet. He approaches the tub and drops down to his knees. He touches my face. That strong hand. Big and protective but also capable of bringing me wild pleasure. His other hand disappears into the water. His fingertips touch my lower belly, making me shudder. I open my legs for him, ready to welcome him. I don’t want him anymore, no. I need him. I hate him for doing this to me. At the same time, I love him. I grip the edge of the tub and put my head back as he touches me. The pressure of his touch makes me sigh. His fingers play against my silk and then he presses harder, entering me.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Fuck, yes…”
I feel my own fingers touching myself.
My eyes are closed.
I didn’t give a damn that the bathroom door was unlocked.
My left hand gripped the side of the tub and I’m shaking. I couldn’t believe what I was doing. Pleasuring myself while thinking about Roman. My fingers are nowhere near as long and thick as his though. I touch myself, softly enter and
exit, then touch my clit.
If I just do this once… it’ll chase all thoughts away, right? I have to find a way to keep Roman away from my mind, my body, my heart.
There is no such thing as forever with a bad guy.
I came and fell asleep. Seriously.
When I woke up it was only because the water had gotten too cool for comfort. My body was wrinkled and I scrambled to my feet and took a shower. I hurried to dry off and rushed to my bedroom. There was a piece of paper on the bed, a note from Scarlett. Next to that was my cell phone. I pressed a button and realized two things.
First, I was fucking late for my date with Trevor.
Second, Roman had tried to call me.
He didn’t leave me a message. But he did send me a text.
Going for a drive. No trouble.
I reached for my phone and knocked the note from Scarlett out of the way. What was under the note stole all of my attention.
“What the…”
I skipped my phone and took the note.
Willow -
Don’t get mad. You’ve just been sick every morning for a while. You might want to take this before you go on your date.
Love you,
Scarlett
My phone started to ring. It was Trevor calling. I knew I was late. Yes.
But I had good reason and it wasn’t because I pleasured myself and fell asleep in a bath.
It was because I was staring at a freaking pregnancy test.
(Roman)
Tyler sat across from me, holding a cup of coffee, hand shaking. He was either scared or high. I wasn’t sure which. He had become some kind of sick side project for me. It kept my mind off trouble and it kept my mind off Willow. She had been playing it really fucking hard lately. Doing everything to avoid me. Our contact was only through texts and calls. Nothing in person, unless it was professional with other people around.
A meeting with myself, Shawn, and the coaches ended with me and Shawn shaking hands. Of course cameras were allowed in for the meeting to make sure those photographs were released. That eased the tension a little. The legal stuff was nothing but old air by then, even if the Commissioner was dragging his feet. I had dealt with Robert for a few years now. He loved this stuff. He would purposely drag things out to the last possible second and then make a decision. He had friends that depended on him. Friends in the media, legal, finance, everywhere. He basically played both sides of the coin. Meeting with sponsors to ensure the image of the league was pristine. Then at the same time he’d meet with writers and spin stories about me to keep the drama going. He was a fucking prick. But ultimately I knew I’d be on the field week one, throwing bombs to Shawn, tearing up our opponent.