Love Needs Another Chance (Truth About Love #3)

by Caleigh Hernandez

  “Sure, Sasha. You, too,” he joyfully exclaims. “Mind if I get this party started?” he asks, gesturing toward the mini wet bar.

  She fucking giggles and nods. Who the fuck does she think she’s fooling? I roll my eyes and Lito kicks me. “What the f—Lito?”

  I look at him quizzically.

  His look says it all.

  Behave.

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes again, the shooting pain in my calf a reminder as to why I do so. “Pour me some, too,” I growl at Baz. “Add water,” I add when Lito gives me another look.

  Baz laughs. He actually has the nerve to laugh. “I got you, mano. Lito? Sasha? Can I pour either of you something?” He’s dripping with the same charm Lito was oozing. He’s clearly an honorary Santo.

  Sasha and Lito decline a drink and I accept mine with a sigh. I take my time with the watered down whiskey. The first sip goes down easily. It’s the second sip that draws out a sigh. “So Sasha, what can we expect from tonight’s fiesta?” asks Lito.

  “Well,” she starts, “it’s all about sponsors for the league. The league holds a dinner and what is essentially an auction for ad space in the stadium, around the stadium, on the kits, and more. Some players have forged relationships that have turned into individual contracts. I’m actually hoping to help Diego with that tonight,” she says with a pat to my thigh. I jump from her touch and she actually looks wounded.

  This time, I can’t help the roll of my eyes. She just scoffs and goes quiet. We spend the rest of the car ride to the site of the event in silence.

  Holy shit!

  “It’s a fucking castle!” Baz and I say together. Lito lets out a long, low whistle.

  The back door of the limousine is pulled open by one of the attendants. I do the gentlemanly thing and offer my hand to Sasha on the way out. I hate performing for the cameras, but it’s my penance. Lito and Baz trail out after Sasha.

  More cameras flash and the questions start. “Sasha, who are you wearing?” “Did you always have your eyes literally set on Diego?” “Diego, how’s the shoulder?” “Care to talk to us about your estranged wife and her new love?” A nudge of my good shoulder by Lito and I’m unstuck from my spot on the red carpet. The crowd’s attention moves on to the following sets of arriving attendees as we proceed to make our way to the entrance. You knew when someone else arrived as the renewed shouts of the fans and paps spiked in volume.

  We’re at the entrance when I’m frozen in place, yet again.

  After the now expected insurgence of shrieks, “It’s Izzy and Johnny!” The cumulative reaction to them stepping from their car interrupts further advancement. The difficulty in taking any more steps is equivalent to walking with fifty-pound lead weights around each ankle. Breathing feels like I have an elephant on my chest. Each gasp lets out a little more air but the weight of the pachyderm doesn’t allow for it to be replaced.

  It’s not the same. Seeing them together on the cover of a rag can be manufactured. When you live a life in the lights, half the shit they report is conjecture spun into trash sold as truth. The covers and rags are dismissible, but live and in person makes it harder to deny.

  “Respira.” Lito instructs me to breathe and I gasp for the air I desperately need. Lead still in my feet, my head clears enough to realize that Sasha is doing her best to keep the fake smile in place. I don’t miss the daggers she’s shooting me with her eyes. When Baz steps away, I realize why.

  “Izzy, you look fabulous as usual.”

  Fuck! Guess I was frozen in place long enough to allow them to catch up. We had to have been passed up by at least three couples. Whoops.

  I don’t turn to look, but I’ve no doubt Baz has pulled her in for a hug when I hear him squeeze the breath from her. “Johnny.” It’s all he says to her date and I don’t dare to look.

  “Bazzy,” she replies in a cautioning tone. “Lito, when did you get back? I had no idea you were going to be here.”

  With my gaze clearly fixed on Sasha’s, my legs get a little lighter and a smile cracks my rather statuesque expression. Izzy just called my grandfather Lito and Sasha caught it. The wounded appearance on her face is unmistakable. One more deep breath and I can turn to face them.

  The breath gets lodged in my chest. Izzy is dressed in a pant suit much like the one she wore all those years ago. She looks like a dream wrapped in a form-fitting tuxedo. Her olive skin peeks through the rows of sparkly stones that make up her shirt. My gaze drops further down to take the rest of her in and I’m not surprised to see Izzy rocking the crystal covered red soled heels I’d bought for her when I got my first check as a professional footballer. She called them her glass slippers.

  An elbow to my side shakes me from my appraisal. I make eye contact with the one responsible and Baz looks like he’s going to have a seizure with the way he’s darting his eyes around. Understanding dawns on me and I snap my eyes to meet Izzy’s. I go to speak and I can’t find my voice.

  Izzy saves me from myself. “Diego,” she says. “New suit?” she asks giving me a daring look. She knows it’s not a new tuxedo. It’s one she’d had made to match the tuxedo she’s wearing now. She gestures to her date. “You remember Johnny,” she states. The mischief playing in her eyes has me wanting to forgo the charade and sweep her into my arms for the relief her kiss on my lips would provide.

  Instead, I nod. “Izzy. Johnny.” It’s a real struggle to turn away without another word, but it’s time to get this show on the road.

  Sasha snakes her hand under my arm and I fight the urge to recoil. The end is near. The end is near. I have to silently chant this new mantra as each moment playing this game gets a little harder.

  s

  So far, the night has been uneventful. I met some big names and I’m even excited about some personal opportunities. Several owners and managers of other teams have offered their regrets about my shoulder and mentioned if I change my mind about London United they’d love to toss their hats in the ring. Of course, Sasha was by my side through all of these conversations and teased the men about having to pry me from her cold dead hands. I mused over the vision of that possibility.

  I got an elbow to the ribs when I was lost in the daydream for just a bit too long.

  We’ve just finished dinner and the bigger sponsors are about to present their ideas for the partnership with the league. The smaller sponsors have tables set up in the hall leading from the large ballroom to a smaller ballroom set up for dancing.

  Sasha excuses us. “I need to get this hunk of a man on the dance floor,” she claims. The taste of copper soothes my boiling blood. Like the good puppy I am, I offer her my assistance in getting up and allow her to curl her hand around my bicep. “Now,” she chirps, pausing as we pass a small group of people, “you will spin me around the dance floor. You got out of it when you instigated Bastos to lunge and spill my wine, but tonight, Izzy will see you dancing with me.”

  “Whatever you say, Sasha.”

  The huff she lets out is as transparent as she is. She’s not happy with my response. She’d rather rage and fight over indifference. Sure, she’d prefer if I were a willing participant, tripping over my feet to make her happy, but that would be another cold and dead option. Instead, the best she’ll get from me is apathetic.

  Sasha startles when we walk into the smaller ballroom. I don’t immediately see what she sees, but a scan around the room and I think I have a pretty good idea. In front of the small bar in the room stands Johnny and the redhead from her blackmail photos. He appears to be laying on the charm and she’s eating it up. “Something the matter, Sasha?” I ask, feigning ignorance and concern.

  She stumbles over her words and gives up with a “hmmpf.” We continue towards the dance floor, but Megan, Edward Jameson’s wife stops us.

  “Sasha, dear,” she coos. “It’s so love
ly to see you again.” After kissing the air beside both her cheeks, she holds Sasha at arm’s length. “That dress is absolutely stunning. It was dreadful what happened to the last one I saw you wearing.” I smile wide. Megan is reminding Sasha that many people saw what happened to her dress the other night.

  Sasha dismisses the incident. “Most of these footballers are utterly barbaric. It’s nice when you can find the evolved ones,” she finishes with a squeeze to my arm.

  “So, true. Now, tell me how’s the—” I’m distracted away from their conversation.

  “Diego Santo,” I hear a voice boom from behind me.

  With a slight turn, I address the boisterous voice. “Edward Jameson, sir. It’s nice to see you.” We shake hands and exchange menial pleasantries. We talk about my recent injury and how the recovery is coming along. We watch as Megan carts Sasha off to speak with some other ladies. I’m grateful for Sasha’s need for appearances yet again. She couldn’t deny the invitation, even though she dreads such trivial conversations.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Edward practically mumbles. He’s making an effort to not let his lips move too much. Sasha’s eyes haven’t strayed from where we stand for more than a split second or two at a time. “I invited Mr. Specter.” He gives me a sly smile.

  “I don’t know what you have up your sleeves, but I’d say it’s working just with the glare I saw Sasha giving Johnny when we walked into this room.” A waitress approaches us wanting to take our order. Recognition dawns on me. I let out an audible gasp. “You helped me out a few weeks back. With my drinks.” She nods in confirmation. “You were at the game against Greenwich Palace…I was supposed to…” I was supposed to go visit them in their suite, but I wound up injured and in a terrible mood, I forgot. Damn.

  “Not to worry, Mr. Santo—”

  “Diego, please. You can’t be much younger than I am.”

  “Okay, Diego. We all understood. We saw what happened. Is it the same tonight?” She’s referring to my standing drink order from last time.

  “Not quite. Whiskey and water, still, but half-and-half on the rocks. Edward?”

  “Champagne,” he states. “And if you could make sure my lovely wife,” he says pointing to Megan. “The one in the blue?” he questions whether or not she knows the woman he’s speaking of. “Has a glass in her hands at all times, I’ll make it worth your while.” She starts to walk off, but Edward stops her. “And, would you be a dear and send over a glass of champagne to the pretty little thing in the black tuxedo?”

  He’s referring to Izzy. “What are you doing, old man?” I ask with a laugh.

  “Just leveling the pitch.”

  She delivers our drinks first and then takes the remaining glasses on her tray to the ladies, first Mrs. Jameson and then Izzy. Izzy raises her glass to Edward with a smirk. Edward nods back. I sit back and watch Sasha observe the exchange. She clearly reaches her tipping point when Johnny walks by with the brunette. She slams down her glass on the nearest table and whips out her phone. Her eyes never really leaving Johnny’s back. When he pulls out his phone, it’s like watching a silent film.

  Sasha undoubtedly sent Johnny a message. After he’s read the message, he imperceptibly glances in Edward’s and my direction, before shooting back a message of his own. He excuses himself from the young woman and walks out of the ballroom. Sasha follows, practically mowing over those in her path.

  “Think it might be time for you to check out the sponsors in the hall. Don’t you think?” Edward asks innocently.

  With a shake of my head, I agree. “You sly devil,” I jokingly admonish. “I think you’re right.”

  I slowly make my way around the corner and do my best to stay unseen. It’s not hard to locate Sasha with her voice rising with every other word. As expected, Johnny’s with her.

  “You ridiculous fool. You’re supposed to be seducing Izzy,” she hisses.

  “And what makes you think I’m not? Or for that matter, I haven’t?” he fires back.

  “Why in the hell are you flirting with that brunette whore then? I thought you were a Boy Scout.” Her impatience and frustration are obvious.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” she grumbles. “Stop flirting. If you don’t get this Izzy business under control, I’ll make sure that when Diego is finally mine you’ll never see a goddamn penny as his manager.”

  “I’ve done what you ask. You said keep Izzy busy, make sure Diego sees us together as often as possible. Done and done. Now, you make damn sure he’s my client when you make him your husband.”

  “So, that’s what you’re here for her?” My voice startles the both of them. “You’re fucking with Izzy because you want my money?” I growl between clenched teeth.

  I don’t wait for his answer. I grab him by the jacket and force him up against the wall. He quickly and easily frees himself from my grasp when he aims for my weak side.

  “Ha!” he counters. “Let’s not cast stones from your glass castle, Santo Feo.”

  “You motherfucker,” I yell as I charge toward him. This time, when his back meets the wall, the air is knocked from his lungs and he doesn’t react as quickly. But I’m just as off my guard when he does react because the charge I lead left my bad shoulder in a bad way. Johnny swings at me and grazes my chin.

  Lights flash and there’s a crowd around us. A crowd full of league authorities, sponsors, and the paparazzi. I don’t go down and Johnny takes the opportunity to drive me into a nearby table. Before I can retaliate, Edward is wedging himself between us. He gives me a questioning look once he’s effectively separated us. I answer with a nod and a pat to my jacket pocket. He slaps me on the back and I wince.

  “Sorry, son,” he offers as he pulls away his hand.

  “Worth it, sir,” I grit through the pain.

  He laughs and leads me back into the small ballroom. “Think that’ll get me in trouble with the league?” I ask once we’re settled at a table near the dance floor.

  “I’d say that’s the least of your worries, at the moment.” He nods his head in a directive to look behind me.

  “Another drink, Diego?” It’s not really a question because the young waitress has placed a fresh drink next to my hand on the table. My eyes still fixed on the fuming Sasha storming towards me; I grab the drink and swallow half before I take another breath.

  “Excuse us, Edward,” Sasha snarls. “Diego and I need to talk.” She whisks me away before Edward or I can object.

  “What the fuck was that? That’s not making anyone believe you’re mine,” she spits out in a hushed voice as she looks to make sure no one else is listening. “Haven’t you learned your lesson with the recent photos making their ways across the rags around the world?”

  “Oh, fuck you, Sasha. Because of you, I’m injured.” She has the audacity to look shocked. “Oh, yeah. I heard your conversation with Bastos while I sat in your waiting area,” I admit. “Whatever you had going on with him has now resulted in my busted ass shoulder. So thanks. Then, there’s my marriage. Oh, and while I’m at it. I hold you responsible for Izzy losing the baby. Now, I learn that you’ve been using Johnny to get to Izzy. Fuck you! Release the pictures, I’m done.”

  I leave her standing there stupefied. Her jaw is slack and her eyes are wide. “Wait,” she starts, trailing after me. “I’m sorry. I really am. I just…” She stops me with her hand. “Look, let’s just go.” I can hear the defeat in her voice. She’s switched to nice because she still wants something from me. “We’ll pretend tonight didn’t happen.”

  “Whatever you say, Sasha.”

  Time for Plan B.

  I shoot Baz a message about leaving. He says he’ll send Lito to me, but claims he’s got other plans. I can only imagine that means he found a toy for the night. Or maybe it has someth
ing to do with his newest bruising regimen.

  We leave the way we came in, Lito following close behind all the while Sasha hangs from my arm answering questions. She speaks for me, “Diego started physical therapy and the late nights can be exhausting.” “Yes, we had a wonderful time.” She ignores the inquiries about rumors of an altercation with Johnny. I smile meekly but keep my mouth shut.

  Before I get out of her car, after the ride back to the hotel, Sasha asks if I could come to her office tomorrow. “There are some forms we have to file,” she says cryptically.

  Perfect. Plan B. “Of course, Sasha. See you then.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine: Seven Nation Army

  April 2007

  You know that place in the center of the storm? The eye of the tornado? Where it’s total chaos swirling all around you, but there you are in the middle, unaffected?

  That’s what today feels like.

  It’s been about a week since the altercation with Johnny. A week since Sasha threatened to blow this out of the water and I called her bluff.

  It also happens to be the day before Izzy’s birthday. And if all goes according to plan, it’s also the day Sasha’s world gets turned upside down and inside out. And any other form of twisted and mangled, if the fates play along.

  We’re in the green room for The Griffin Nash Show. Sasha’s arranged for an interview with the both of us. She wants to do damage control after pictures of Johnny and I tussling graced the covers of not tabloids but reputable celebrity rags. If there is such a thing. Rumors swirled about our relationship being rocky. Some rags even wondered if it was a farce to drum up ratings for the team.

  When Sasha presented the opportunity, I took her by surprise with my more than eager reaction. “Let’s do it!” I’d exclaimed. My response so unexpected, she didn’t have the wherewithal to consider why I was excited to go along. She just kept playing into my hand.