Page 3 of A Game of Deception
Leo snorted. “You’re twenty-nine, not collecting Social Security. Have a drink, mate. We’ve got that team thing tonight.”
Right. The team event. Some fancy party at the owner’s mansion, where I’d meet my new teammates, coaching staff, and the rich clown who’d decided I was worth twenty million despite my game going to shit lately.
“What time is that again?”
“Eight. The car is picking us up at seven-thirty.” Leo sipped his scotch. “You’ve got an hour. Plenty of time to settle in.”
I nodded, still reading the text message.
Welcome home, Xander.
Who the fuck would send that? Who even had my number?
The team, obviously. Management. PR. But something about the wording—home—turned my blood cold.
I didn’t delete the message.
“I’m going to shower,” I said, heading for the bathroom.
I closed the door before he answered, slumped against it, and let out a breath. This bathroom was ridiculous—marble and chrome everywhere, a rainfall shower big enough for the entire starting lineup, and a tub that could host a water polo match.
Just another luxury space wasted on my undeserving ass.
The mirror didn’t lie. I looked like complete garbage—a human dumpster fire running on empty, held together with duct tape and bullshit.
I cranked the shower until it was practically boiling, turning my skin lobster-red and making my muscles throb in that weird, not-quite-pain way.
I stood there cooking myself until I felt somewhat like a person again.
When I stepped out into the fog, I found the suit Leo had picked out. Tom Ford. Black on black. Not an outfit—a goddamn shield. By the time I buttoned up, my “couldn’t-give-less-of-a-fuck” face was locked and loaded.
Leo was waiting by the door. “Car’s downstairs,” he said, giving my suit an approving nod.
I straightened my cuffs, the motion feeling strangely final. “Good. Let’s go meet the rich motherfucker who bought me for twenty million.”
The house—mansion,really—was precisely the over-the-top display of wealth I’d expected. Mediterranean-inspired architecture, a circular driveway lined with palm trees, valets in crisp uniforms taking keys from guests who arrived in luxurious cars.
Our driver pulled up to the entrance, and Leo bounced out of the car. “Are ye ready to meet the man who built a whole team just tae sign ye?”
“Can’t wait,” I said, my tone flat.
The foyer was marble and gold, a chandelier the size of my first car hanging from a ceiling at least twenty feet high. Staff in black and white circulated with trays of champagne and canapés. A string quartet played something classical in one corner. The whole thing screamed new money trying very hard to look like old money.
I grabbed champagne from a server and checked out the crowd. A parade of power players—MLS bigwigs, politicians, C-list celebrities, and every soccer VIP with a pulse, all crammed in to witness this franchise’s big, expensive birth.
“That’s Diego Mano,” Leo pointed to a tall guy wearing what looked like a designer suit that fit him like a trash bag. “Columbian striker. They brought him over a few months ago. Word from trainin’ is he’s a right hothead with a massive ego, but the lad can play. He’s been outperforming everyone.”
I knew the type. Talented but a total ball hog, the type of player who’d rather blast it into row Z than pass to an open teammate.Mano caught me staring and lifted his glass, a smug smirk on his face. I did the same, mentally preparing for the dick-measuring contest that was definitely on the horizon.
“And there’s Ben Carter,” Leo pointed to some baby-faced kid chatting up a reporter. “Last year’s number one draft pick.”
“Anyone else I need to fake interest in?” I asked, gulping my champagne.
“The entire roster, and?—”
The screech of microphone feedback shut him up. Everyone went quiet as the MLS commissioner waddled up to a podium.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome!” the Commissioner said. “For years, one man has pursued a singular vision: to bring another world-class soccer team to the heart of Miami. Tonight, that dream becomes a reality. It is my distinct honor to celebrate the official launch of Miami’s new MLS franchise, the Miami Pirates FC!”
