Page 87 of Forgotten Sacrifice
“Tell your boss the next time we find a Jersey flunky in our city, we won’t be as nice.” I’m gifted one last parting shot to my ribs, and I fall to my knees as they walk away.
Chapter
Thirty-Three
Luna
I wave at Bridget who’s seated in the corner, but my eyes land on another familiar face.
“Aldo, what are you doing here?” I stop at his table.
“Best coffee shop around.”
“Uh-huh,” I say, crossing my arms. “And it has nothing to do with Vince asking you to babysit me?”
He smiles sheepishly. “Well, there’s that too.”
I roll my eyes. “Your brother is unbelievable.”
Aldo shrugs. “Vince is who he is.”
“And who is that?” I ask, genuinely curious to hear Aldo’s take.
“A man who would do anything for the people he cares about,” he tells me quietly. “Don’t be so rough on the big guy.”
“Luna, hey.” Bridget joins me, and we hug. “Who’s your friend?” She eyes Aldo appreciatively, her cheeks flushing.
“This is Aldo, mymanager’sbrother. He’s here babysitting me.”
“Babysitting duties extend to all gorgeous ladies in this coffee shop.” Aldo winks at Bridget, and her cheeks turn beet-red.
“Babysit from afar, please.” I point at him. “We’re talking chess.”
“I love chess!” Aldo says excitedly.
“Real-ly? Since when?” I ask.
“Since now?”
Bridget laughs as I pull her to the counter. We order, and Aldo flashes a smile at Bridget as we walk by, her cheeks heating.
Returning to our table, Bridget leans over and says quietly, “The man you were with at the Chess Hall, he’s your manager?”
“Yeah, that’s Vince.”Whose cum is dried on my thighs and panties.I shift uncomfortably in my chair. Thankfully, he forgot to put the vibrator back in after he fucked me senseless.
“And that’s his brother? My God, how do you function around such hot men?”
“Not well,” I admit, and she snorts a laugh.
A server delivers my soda and Bridget’s iced coffee, and we both take a sip. “What happened with you and Coach Petrov?” I ask.
“The crazy thing is I’m not even sure. He messaged me saying he was no longer going to coach me.”
“That sucks. See, I spoke to him after I played against Grandmaster Morrell, and he agreed to coach me. A few days later, he sends me an email like, ‘Just kidding.’ And that’s right after getting an email from the Chess Hall that I didn’t get accepted.” I sip my soda through the paper straw, continuing, “I have to wonder if Grandmaster Morrell isn’t somehow involved.”
“Because you hurt his ego? It’s possible,” she says. “Hedoes have sway at the club, but I’m not sure he has any pull with Coach Petrov.”
“Why did those two part ways?”
