Tackled by the King: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Christina Clark

  “You're Jolene?”

  “Yes,” I replied, my shoulders squaring defensively. The car started up, slowly rolling out of the parking spot. “I'm the new assistant. Where are we going?”

  “We're just going around the block,” said Tanya, swirling her wine around in her glass for effect. “Why, are you scared?”

  “So what was it you wanted to talk to me about?” I asked her instead, ignoring her.

  “Look,” Tanya spat, the plastic smile on her face vanishing. “I don't know what sad little feline dragged you in here and why on God's green Earth Bradley hired you. Guess he's into the borderline cute plain-Janes these days –”

  “I don't know what you're trying to imply here,” I interjected firmly. My knuckles were quickly going white as I squeezed the edge of my seat to prevent my bodily instincts from acts I know I'd only regret later. “But there's nothing going on. Not that it's any of your business. From what I've heard, it'll just be a couple of weeks now before that divorce is finalized.”

  “You little –” Tanya growled, her eyes flashing as she lunged towards me. Her nose just mere inches from my face, the sour odor of alcohol on her tongue wafting against my cheeks. “You're not special, honey. You ain't the first sidepiece he's defiled, and you sure as hell ain't gonna be the last. You just wait – when he's done with you, he's gonna dispose of you like the worthless little skank garbage you are...”

  “Lady, you better back the fuck up before I – hey!”

  “Oops. My mistake,” said Tanya, giggling darkly.

  I cried out in shock, my eyes bulging in disbelief as Tanya flipped over her glass and dumped her wine all over my lap.

  “Maury!” Tanya yelled, pummeling the partition with her fist. “MAURY! Stop the car!”

  The limo screeched to a halt. Tanya yanked open the door and shoved me out to the sidewalk. Holding open the door, she stared up at me with an unblinking, demented look to her eyes.

  “You better watch your fucking back, Jo-lene...We don't ever wanna ruin that sweet little face of yours, do we?”

  Before I could even think of an answer, the limo door slammed shut, speeding away. I blinked, looking down at the blood-red stain seeping into the cold thighs of my leggings. Oh my god.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  The End of Book 1

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  Written by: Christina Clark

  Copyright © 2016

  Disclaimer.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All Rights Reserved

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Chapter One: Lucas

  I opened my eyes and lazily looked at my girlfriend’s naked form stretched out next to me; her long legs, her firm ass, and her perky breasts. Monique slept peacefully as I looked at her face and even though I acknowledged that her blonde waves and her rosy mouth were delicate and beautiful, I felt nothing else. Unintentionally, I thought back to the previous night, when she had climbed on top of me and undressed- we hadn’t had sex for a long time before last night, but even then, after Monique had fallen off me, feeling exhausted, I had felt vaguely unsatisfied. I turned away from her and took in my surroundings; I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen my Paris apartment in the early morning light. I was always working before the crack of the dawn till far past midnight, and I would usually crawl into bed, feeling drained every night, only to get up and go to work again in a few hours time. Sometimes, I would spend my nights at the office, even if it drove my Monique crazy.

  I lifted myself off the bed and dragged all six feet two inches of my aching body into the shower. As the hot water streamed down the length of my body, I absently thought about my father’s wedding set to happen over the next weekend. That was the reason I had stayed in from work today, I was to fly to New York in a few hours to see my father, and just the thought of it was weighed me down. I was the kind of guy who could work 30 hour days and then hit the gym; but when it came to my father, Simon Garrett, I could never find the energy to face him. Five years ago, Dad had reluctantly made me the manager of Garrett Industries’ French division, and even though I had poured my heart and soul into making the company a raging success in Paris, my father still routinely called me a good-for-nothing waste of a son. I turned the shower off and shook the water out of my eyes as I wrapped a towel around my waist. Stepping out, I caught my reflection in the mirror above the sink- I knew that I spent a lot of time working on my appearance, but no matter how good I looked, or how rich I became, I could never look in the mirror without hating myself- I just wasn’t happy. Shaking my head, I walked out of the bathroom and decided I would wake Monique up since we had to leave soon.

  Monique, however, was already awake, and the minute I walked out of the bathroom, she screeched and threw a pillow at me in a fit of rage. Alarmed, I caught it and indignantly said, “Hey- what the fuck are you doing?” She angrily pulled on a large T-shirt and then waved my phone before my face, “What is this? You’ve been lying to me this whole time about staying at work- you’ve been sleeping around behind my back!” She was screaming at me and half of her words were in French, as I caught her by the wrist and said, “Calm down- Monique- fucking calm down. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She threw the phone towards me and I managed to catch it just before it hit the wall behind me, as Monique collapsed onto the bed in tears. I glanced at the screen, and saw a text from Ariadne Minot, the Chief Financial Officer for the Paris branch of Garrett Industries; it said- You were amazing last night. I can’t wait till the next time we meet. “Who is that bitch? And what were you doing with her last night?” I shook my head and said, “Monique, are you serious? You know Ariadne, she’s the CFO, and we’ve had her over for dinner loads of times. You said you like her-” Before I could finish, Monique shrieked, “That was before I knew you were fucking her behind my back!”

  I was starting to get really pissed off too, and I said, “Monique, you’re insane. We had a meeting with the Australian representatives last night and I gave a presentation- she’s complimenting me on that and she’s excited about the next meeting with these guys- what the fuck is wrong with you?” Monique was crying now, and my patience was running out. In a fit of rage, I threw the phone in my hand and it hit the wall- shattering into many pieces. Monique jumped at the sound and grew quiet as I said in a soft tone, “Monique, I’ve had enough of your jealousy and snooping around.” She shook her head, looking panic-stricken as she said, “No- Lucas, no. I believe you- if you say nothing happened, then nothing happened.” I rounded on her and she hiccupped, but I shook my head and continued in that same quiet tone- only the slight flaring of my nostrils might have given away just how angry I really was, “For how long? You believe me now, but tomorrow, or the day after that, you’ll find something else to suspect.” Monique shook her head and started to plead, “Lucas, no- this won’t happen again, I swear.” I snorted and said, “That’s what you said last week, Mon. I can’t keep doing this- I’m flying to New York. Alone.” I made sure to lay extra emphasis on that last word and then said, “You have this week to clear out your things, and when I come back, I want you gone.”

  Monique’s eyes widened and she shook her head as she whispered, “Lucas- I love you. Don’t do this, I’m begging you.” I shook
my head sadly and held her face as I cooed, “Monique, we’re not happy. We haven’t been happy for a long time now- and it’s time we put this thing to rest.” Monique was crying silently now, and she said, “Lucas- I love you.” I shook his head again and said, “I don’t, Mon.” I knew I had crushed her with those words, but I dropped my hands from her face, picked up my clothes and walked out of the room. I got dressed in the guest room and when I was done, I took my suitcase from the hallway and walked towards the door. With my hand on the doorknob, I looked back towards the bedroom one more time- Monique’s shadow was visible as she remained sitting on the bed in the same position I had left her in and I could hear her soft sobbing. I turned the doorknob, stepped out of my apartment and slammed the door shut behind me. As I walked towards the car that was waiting to take me to the company’s jet, I tried to reflect on my feelings about leaving Monique, but I didn’t really feel anything. Monique was beautiful and wealthy, and she truly did love me; but even after a year and a half together, I knew that I didn’t love her- I didn’t really love anybody for that matter.

  A few hours later, I sat in Garrett Industries’ private jet, heading for New York. I looked out at the clouds and saw Paris shrink behind me and as I soared through the sky, I felt my spirit rise too. I hated Paris- when the rest of the world thought of Paris, they thought about the Eiffel Tower, romantic roadside cafes, and love; as for me, I consider the long hours at the office, fighting with Monique, and intense loneliness. I loved New York though, and even after five years in Europe, I still only considered New York to be home. I drew the blinds down over the small window and settled into my seat more comfortably, as my eyes roamed across the brand new private jet. Garrett Industries had just acquired this jet, and I had to admit that this kind of travel seemed to suit me pretty well. I looked over at the polished mahogany surfaces, the white leather upholstery, and the plush carpeting underfoot. Having sex in here would be amazing- I imagined opening a girl’s legs as she lay on the soft carpet- I thought about how incredible it would feel to push myself inside of someone while flying thousands of feet up in the air. I smirked to myself as I gently drifted off to sleep dreaming of hot flight attendants screaming my name in ecstasy.

  A beautiful flight attendant gently nudged me awake, and when I saw her curly black hair, tiny waist, and her dark velvety skin, I thought she might be a part of the dream I was having about fucking someone in the private jet. But the plane had definitely stopped moving and I realized that I had actually slept through the entire flight and even the landing. The flight attendant handed me a cup of coffee and I thanked her as I drank it, and then stepped off the plane. Just the air in New York was different- and suddenly I felt like he could breathe far more freely than I could back in Paris. I climbed down the steps and walked over to the long black limousine that belonged to my father. It suddenly came rushing back to me why I was in New York, and at the thought of seeing my father, my mood plummeted again- even being in the city that was home wasn’t enough incentive to meet my father and have to be with him for the entire weekend. I sighed as I walked over to the limo, and smiled at the chauffeur as I shook his hand before getting in. “Hey, Freddy, before you take me to see Dad, I need to stop and get a new phone- I broke mine this morning.” The driver shook his head and said, “Sorry sir, I was ordered not to stop anywhere, but once I drop you off, I can get you a phone and drop it off at the office.” I nodded, annoyed that my father’s word was considered more important than mine, but I said nothing and the driver took me straight through the crazy Manhattan traffic towards the tall Garrett Industries building, where my father’s office was located in the penthouse.

  Chapter Two: Rachel

  I walked around my apartment clutching a steaming mug of coffee and fretting about what to wear. I had an important meeting today with a very distinguished client, and I wasn’t sure what kind of impression I wanted to make- did I want to look professional or seem like a chic? Or did I want to appear both? I walked into my roommate’s room and started to rummage through her closet- Alison was a model and she was often given free samples of incredible clothes, but she frequently travels to Milan, Paris or London for a photo shoot or fashion show. I dug through piles and piles of stunning Dior dresses and exquisite Balmain jackets only to realize none of it would fit me. Disheartened, I walked back to my own room and sat down heavily on the bed. My own closet door hung sadly open and I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror- people often told me I’m a beautiful woman, but I never believed a single one of them. I looked despairingly at my deep burgundy curls as they wildly framed my face, and my large full hips and chest- Why can’t I look like Alison? I pictured her long black hair, high cheekbones, large brown doe eyes, and a waist so small it would fit in two hands. Alison was stunningly beautiful in a supermodel kind of way- probably why her boyfriend, Felix, was so madly in love with her.

  Felix was a fashion photographer, and he had been working for French Vogue when he met Alison- he claimed to have fallen for her the minute he laid eyes on her, and I didn’t doubt it. I secretly envied Alison and Felix’s wonderful relationship, and their incredibly cool lifestyle- I loved them dearly and I was certainly happy for their success, but sometimes, I just wished I had something like that for myself. I mean, I was thirty years old, and I was finally where I wanted to be concerning my career, and sometimes, all I wished for was someone I could love, and who would love me back. Sighing, I stood up and walked over to my closet, pulling out the same black skirt suit I always wore to first meetings, and I slowly got dressed. I pinned up my hair in a chignon at the nape of my neck, and a few curls immediately escaped, framing my face instead. I narrowed my large green eyes at my reflection, unsatisfied with the result, but I just shook my head instead, continuing with the rest of my morning routine. Once I was ready, I checked my watch- I was going to be late if I didn’t hurry up and get moving. I walked out of my apartment and hurried down to get a cab. There weren’t any cars on the road though, and I couldn’t see a single cab- sighing, I decided to walk. I had just walked the first few steps when the first few raindrops fell on me.

  Why do these things always happen to me? Cursing my luck, I thought of turning back and getting an umbrella from my apartment, but I was already late, and it was better to show up rain soaked than not to show up at all. It’s just that kind of day, isn’t it? Everything that could go wrong would- I was sure of it. I saw a black limo approaching me, and I foolishly imagined that it might stop and offer me a lift. It slowed down as it reached a traffic light, and I was able to peer into it as I walked past it on the sidewalk. Inside was a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties reading a newspaper, he didn’t look up and so, he didn’t notice me staring at him awestruck. I hungrily took in his thick brown hair, his ruggedly handsome features, and his piercing blue eyes- I knew it was rude to stare, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his face, and so, I didn’t realize that while I had been standing under a bus shelter to keep dry, a giant puddle had been forming next to me on the road. Without warning, the limousine sped away and splashed me with the dirty puddle water. I shrieked as my knees and skirt were sprayed with brown water and in a fit of rage, I started swearing at the limo as it drove away. Neither the driver nor the handsome man inside noticed, and my entire body convulsed with anger as I tried to calm down. I couldn’t believe I had been stupid enough to waste my time looking at someone like him- probably a spoiled child trapped inside an adult’s body.

  “Ugh-” I groaned out loud and shook my shoes to get rid of any dirty water that may have collected in there, feeling mortified and angry. Part of me wanted to turn around and go home, but I knew that this client wasn’t to be trifled with, and sighing, I walked on to my meeting. On the way, I decided to swear off men- so what if Alison was deliriously happy with Felix? I didn’t need a man to make me happy; I would be self-sufficient and make myself happy. I thought back to my last relationship, which had only lasted a few weeks before I realized what a creep th
e guy had been. What’s wrong with me? I tried not to answer my own question as I hurried towards the Garrett Industries building. The structure loomed up ahead, and I caught my reflection in the window of a parked car, making sure I looked alright before I hurried inside to meet with Simon Garrett himself. I was nervous yet excited to meet him- the man was a legend after all, and everyone told stories about how a poor young boy from Brooklyn made it so big that he now owned a chain of hotels and properties that made him a billionaire. I walked into the building and felt my jaw drop as I looked around at the marble surfaces and the giant stone sculpture in the center of the lobby- people just walked right past it without stopping to notice its breathtaking beauty, but I couldn’t tear her eyes away from it.

  “Ma’am, are you looking for somebody?” I turned to find myself facing a young uniformed guard, who repeated his question. Aren’t we all?I thought to myself, amused, but I just smiled at the guard and said, “Yes, may I know where Mr. Simon Garrett’s office is located?” The man nodded and said, “That’ll be the penthouse, miss- there’s a receptionist up there who handles that floor, you should go find her, she’ll guide you.” I thanked him and reluctantly dragged myself away from the beautiful lobby and into the elevator. It was bigger than my fucking bedroom- my gaze traveled from the golden double doors of the elevator to the luxurious plum colored carpeting on the floor. I waited patiently as the elevator went up thirty-five floors, stopping at last at the penthouse. I stepped out and saw the receptionist’s desk behind the glass doors separating the elevator area from the offices. I walked over to it and said, “Excuse me, I have an appointment with-” the lady behind the desk looked at me impatiently and held up her hand causing me to abruptly stop talking.