The Reckless Prince (Royal Billionaires of Mondragón Book 4)

by Jewel Allen

  And then in the morning, I needed to make other arrangements for my service.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Gemma

  Thursday, two weeks later

  “Hey, want a donut?” Cherise stood outside my “office” in what used to be a large chicken coop. I had a chair, a table, and lots of dust motes whenever I moved more than a foot.

  “Sure.”

  She opened the box and let me have my pick. “It’s not healthy to be all ‘cooped’ up in here, you know.”

  “Very funny.” I smirked. “I’ve been out and about with the children all week.”

  “Yes, but I’m talking about the weekends.”

  “I need to make sure everything’s done before the big game Saturday.” When Jason suggested the Saturday game, I might have said it would conflict with Diego’s big game weekend.

  But now it was no longer relevant.

  I tried to ignore my aching heart.

  Cherise interrupted my thoughts. “I think you’re just trying to avoid reality right now. Won’t you talk to me about it?”

  I kept my lips closed in a thin disapproving line.

  When I returned from Mondragón without Diego and with an air of “grand sadness,” as Cherise characterized it, I simply didn’t have the energy to tell her what happened. Soon, a day turned to a week, and here we were, two weeks later, and I hadn’t explained yet.

  Maybe it was high time I did.

  “Fine,” I said, gesturing my hands and unleashing another batch of dust motes.

  In halting sentences, I proceeded to explain what happened. Her eyes widened as I gave her the details.

  When I was done, she cried out, “Gemma, but I don’t understand. You two had it all.”

  “Did we?” I gave her a sad smile. “Perhaps he does, but I’m back to who I was before. Uncomplicated. Safe.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “You could achieve the same effect by sitting in your house. That way you don’t stub your toe.” She put her hands up in the air. “Gemma Garcia! I used to think you were the most courageous person I’d met. When you stood up to Jason, I’d cheer you on silently. When you quit that job, I was so happy for you.” Her eyes shone with tears. “And when you and Diego fell in love and allowed yourselves to be happy…I thought that was the ultimate courage.”

  “Until I was no longer brave,” I whispered. “But it’s okay. I had my reasons, and I won’t backtrack now.”

  “But you’re allowed to try to fix things. It’s not too late.”

  “Cherise, you’re sweet to be so optimistic, but I don’t think so.”

  “Well, if you change your mind, Diego did confirm when the great match-up with Jason’s team is. So I told him.”

  I froze, clenching my fists. “You did? But why, Cherise? I thought you were loyal to me.”

  “You never said to not tell him that.”

  “I said, ‘If he calls you, plead the fifth.’”

  “Well, I did, but that was a game question. Not anything to do with you.” Cherise waved her hand. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter because it’s the same week as his first game back to La Liga. I’m sure he’ll be too wiped out to attend.”

  “Besides, why would he?”

  I had this foolish stab of disappointment that he wouldn’t be coming. I hadn’t wanted him to anyway, right? So why should it matter?

  Because I still loved him. And every day I still ached to see him.

  Cherise peered into my face. “You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?”

  “Of course not,” I lied, wiping away a tear or two.

  “You’re such a bad liar. Oh, hon.” She came forward to hug me in a little cloud of dust motes.

  I indulged in a sob or two and laughed or else I’d cry. “No more. I need to finish this out so we can all go home.”

  But after Cherise left, I grabbed a couple of tissues and had a good hard cry.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Diego

  I found a training camp in Spain where I’d volunteered my last week. After that, Coach gave me the green light to practice with the team once again.

  I fell back easily into my former position, mainly out of seniority. But the rookie goalie, Pelletier, was hungry. At practice, he dove so much Coach joked that he needed to buy huge bottles of laundry soap.

  It only made me work harder.

  I’d missed playing. But I missed Gemma more.

  I wondered if she still thought of me and what her plans were after camp. Would Mike make a move to win her, or would she continue to rebuff him?

  Coach had us all line up and barked instructions. Pelletier leaned forward and looked my way. I didn’t want to give him an easy pass for a position I’d worked blood, sweat, and tears for the past five years, but it would be good to build him up for when I was going to retire from the team.

  For now I needed to get my game on and focus. Which was a little hard with thoughts of a certain brown-eyed Cuban-Filipino beauty invading my mind. At practice, I missed one goal because of this inattentiveness.

  “Focus,” Coach yelled at me.

  “I know, I know,” I said. “Sorry, Coach.”

  I shut all thoughts of her out after that.

  When I came home from practice that day, I saw I’d missed a call from Cherise. I panicked for a minute. She’d never called me before. We’d always communicated by text.

  “Is Gemma fine?” I asked as soon as she answered the phone.

  “You are equally pathetic. She’s moping about not being with you, and you’re worried about her.”

  “Well, you must admit, a call is pretty worrisome to me. Is it good news?”

  I wanted her to tell me that Gemma had relented. That she wanted me to come to her.

  “I was talking to her the other day,” Cherise said, “and she still loves you.”

  “Then why did she leave me in the first place?” I raked my fingers through my hair. “Why did she drive me away?”

  “Maybe you’ll have to talk to her about it. In person. At the match.”

  “That day is the day after my big game. Unless I get knocked unconscious at the game, I want to be there.”

  “I sure hope you make it. Poor little Santosh asked about you and was really sad. You might be able to get him smiling again.”

  I blew out my breath. “I miss that kid.” And Gemma.

  “Anyway.” Cherise giggled. “I’m already not being loyal to her by calling you. I’d better go.”

  “Actually, I think you’re doing her a favor. All this time, I thought maybe she was just trying to find some excuse to dump me. Hey, can I ask one more thing?”

  “Sure.”

  “How did she pull off the funding? I’ve been thinking about that.”

  “Her Papi sold some cattle.”

  “I see. Good.”

  I needed to get my head in the game and not have all these worries. Just the same, I made two phone calls. First, I contacted our private jet pilot.

  “Hello, Pablo. Are you able to fly me tomorrow? Right after my game? Good. Thank you.”

  Next, I called Mother. I needed to clear the air with her. I needed to tell her how I felt about Gemma and why she was worth fighting for.

  “Can I come over?” I asked.

  I could already picture Mother’s delicate, arched eyebrow. “Don’t you have a game tomorrow?”

  “Yes, but I have something important to talk to you about.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Gemma

  I’d cried all the tears I could for Diego during the past two days, and now it was time to focus on the children and the match. I had them warming up while we waited for Jason’s team.

  My camp kids were resilient. They all had challenges, but you wouldn’t know from how big their smiles were when they were able to accomplish something during the game—stealing a ball, dribbling past an opponent, heading a ball in, rejecting a goal attempt. They showed up every weekday to practice and played tough a
nd hard during scrimmages.

  Santosh went through his paces and threw himself on the ground, reminding me of a certain someone who was a great goalie.

  I swallowed painfully. I had told myself no more tears, and yet in the middle of that field with bare patches, I was going to lose it again. I took a deep breath and jogged around. When I was under control once again, I checked on the kids.

  “You’re doing great,” I told Santosh, and his usual solemn expression turned into a brilliant smile.

  Two vans pulled up carrying Jason’s team. Jason eyed me from the driver’s seat. I raised a hand to acknowledge him. For a moment I held my breath because it looked like he was going to ignore me, but he raised his hand as well.

  I came up to him. Mike was gathering the warm-up balls and bright orange game pennies, looking at us curiously. But he moved on, leaving me with Jason.

  Jason glanced past me at the field. “This doesn’t even look like playable grass, Gemma,” he said, casting a critical eye around. “We should have done it at my camp.”

  “Well, it’s too late now. It’s okay. This will build character. It’s just brown in places, but otherwise, it’s flat land. Better than how some school fields are.”

  “It’ll build something all right. Hopefully no one will fall and get hurt.”

  If he thought I would cower, he was wrong. “Good luck,” I said. “May the best woman win.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Diego

  The day before

  “May the best team win!” the announcer roared into his microphone to the El Calderón Arena fans who filled it to the rafters. Up rose their collective roar and cheers from the rabid fan section, drowning out even the drums.

  I looked around the stadium, memorizing all the details of the game, the perfect weather, the way the sun slanted and deflected off the roof depending on where you stood on the field.

  Coach came over and looked me in the eye. “You got your head in the game, Diego?”

  “Yes, Coach.”

  “Good. Because I don’t want to have to pull you and replace you with Pelletier.”

  “I hope he brought a book to read because I’m going to play this game.”

  “Again, just focus. We don’t want you rushing a fan, even if they’re behaving badly. We’ll leave that work to our police. Understand?”

  “Yes, Coach.”

  The first half opened with a right dribble from our man Rafik. He tapped it in and got it to Edoardo, who then sent it flying in for a smooth finish off of Ricardo, who finished it off to the massive cheers and stomps in the crowd.

  Next possession by the other team, they laid out intricate passing, just to have the ball stolen. But someone intercepted it and passed it to Real Madrid’s Humberto, who was driving it back down.

  “I need help,” I yelled at the guys, but they were too far away to be useful.

  It would come down to me and Humberto. I watched him bear down, one hundred yards, seventy-five, fifty…and remembered the tape we’d watched when I got back from exile. He favored his left foot, so if he were to kick, it would be on the right.

  Sure enough, he used his right foot. It was all an intricate dance, but I remembered.

  Fein right, like he was doing. I would need to fall back and cover the gaps.

  He dribbled right up to me and, in one swoop, kicked the ball, sending it sailing over us into that gigantic arena. And right into the goal.

  Not when Assante was in the house.

  I watched the ball and lunged that direction. It felt like I was flying for several seconds, but in reality, it went pretty fast. And then I was landing on the ground with a loud thud. I was sure I hurt my elbow, but it didn’t matter.

  I shut them out.

  I grinned as my teammates mussed my hair. The announcer summed it best—“Assante is in the house!”

  The rest of the game was brutal. Two yellow penalty cards in ten minutes. Humberto hobbled off with a sprained ankle. At halftime, we sat at 2-0. In the last running seconds, Madrid attempted a shot. I jumped and stretched, deflecting the ball off my fingertips, only for it to bounce against the goal frame and into the goal. It shouldn’t have gone in, but it did, 2-1.

  I was sure I tore something in my shoulder, but that was nothing compared to the hole in my heart from the ball going in. I fell to my knees and pounded the ground.

  Time to regroup, Assante. You can do this.

  “You sure you’re up to snuff, Assante?” Pelletier challenged from the sidelines.

  I glared at him, and he scurried back to where he came from.

  As we played out stoppage time, their team dribbled past our man Rafik. It came down to me and Humberto again. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to repeat his earlier mistake, but I had to be ready just in case.

  I watched the ball inch closer until it would be in the optimum shooting range. He slowed down, and I knew he was drawing me in.

  Patience, Assante. Patience.

  Humberto sped up again. He coiled to strike, just as Rafik slid into the ball. Sending it right at me.

  I scrambled to regroup. In the background, fans screamed insults at me.

  Shutting them all out, I leaped for the ball and caught it. It bounced off my fingertips. Rafik and Humberto tussled for it, and someone emerged victorious. Humberto kicked off another shot. The ball hit me above my eye, blinding me with pain.

  Stunned, I dove yet again to repel it.

  But this time, I landed on the ball and shut it out.

  Not with Assante in the house.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Gemma

  I led my little team to the field and made them run laps while I met up with Mike. Jason was talking to one of the parents, and I was glad. I didn’t want to have to deal with his demeaning talk during the game.

  Mike put out a hand to shake. I took it, and he gripped it hard. “How about a date if your team loses?”

  Was he never going to get the message? “No thanks. But it won’t be an issue, because we’ll win.”

  He smirked. “I heard you and your prince broke up. So you don’t have any excuses not to date me.”

  “If you think this makes you more attractive or something,” I didn’t mask my disdain, “you’re wrong.”

  “Come off your high horse, princess. I was just joking.”

  “I don’t consider harassment very funny.” I wrenched my hand out of his grasp.

  “Fine. I can take rejection. I just hope you’re prepared for your little pee-wee team to get beat.”

  “Dream on.”

  I was still muttering things under my breath when I reached Cherise on the sidelines.

  She bumped my shoulder. “What did that creep tell you?”

  “Just imagine the creepiest thing a fellow coach could tell you and multiply it by a hundred.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “It feels like it. I thought I was pretty clear on where he stood with me, but no. The guy needs to have his head examined.”

  “Speaking of getting their head examined…” Cherise pointed across the field where Diego was walking and giving high fives to our team at their warm-ups.

  “Holy goalie,” I said.

  Cherise breathed, “Man, the guy looks good.”

  “Do you have to state the obvious?” I asked, falling into a helpless and weak state.

  Stop it, Gemma. Get a hold of yourself.

  “He’s walking up to us.” I gripped my clipboard. “I can’t have this kind of distraction. What should I do?”

  “How about giving him a kiss?” Cherise puckered her lips.

  “Hush, Cherise.”

  “Hello, Gemma.” Diego had a flesh-colored strip over his eyebrow. Otherwise, he positively glowed.

  “You got a cut on your eyebrow,” I said helpfully.

  He touched it. “Yeah. You should see the other guy.”

  It was a beautiful day, but why didn’t I notice just how nice it was out here? “Wait. You had a game yes
terday.” I hurried and calculated the time difference. “I mean, did you miss it?”

  He grinned. “I came as soon as the clock ran out.”

  I was still in awe that he was actually standing there in front of me, flesh and blood. Handsome as ever.

  His eyes glimmered. “Glad I could do both. I even ignored an obnoxious fan afterward.”

  “Bravo.” My heart squeezed happily for him, knowing how hard that would have been. “How was the game?”

  “It was brutal. But we won, 2-1.” He said it all casual, like he bought a burger. Or shoes from online.

  “Shouldn’t you be freaking out or something?” I raised my hand for a high five. “Congratulations!”

  Our skin contact zapped me to the core.

  “Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “Hey, I was wondering…could I get a kiss?”

  Cherise was listening this whole time and looked like she might pass out. Could this conversation turn weirder? I totally understood. I felt like passing out too.

  “Kiss?” I croaked.

  “On my boo-boo.” He pointed to his brow.

  “Oh,” I stalled. “A kiss.” I couldn’t think straight. “Um, won’t I hurt you?”

  His gaze fell to my parched mouth. “Not with those lips, you won’t.”

  I counted to three, my heart beating wildly in my chest. “Well, then.” It was my turn to clear my throat. “Come here.”

  He came like I asked and stood toe-to-toe with me. The top of my head came up to his chest.

  I avoided his eyes. “You smell good for someone who’s just played a brutal game of soccer.”

  The corners of his mouth hitched up. “I took a shower on the plane.”

  No wonder his scruff smelled so good. “That’s right,” I murmured. “The plane has a shower…among other luxuries.”

  I could be a good plane saleswoman. Ugh.

  He hooked my chin with his finger, startling me. He tipped my face up so that I was gazing right in his beautiful blue eyes. Hunger flicked in their depths.