Page 1 of Playing for Possession
Chapter 1
Kieran
My pallid reflection in the glass-fronted office door gave me pause. I ran a hand over the rough stubble on my jaw. PR meetings were bad enough without a hangover kicking my arse. What this time? Last month I’d had to feign interest in a mushroom soufflé on live TV. The media stuff was more annoying than getting subbed off in the first half of a match. The club paid me to play football, not clown around on cookery shows.
I blew out a breath and pushed open the door. Sadie, the PR manager, sat at the long table with her laptop open in front of her. My manager, Rob, sat to her left, and a young woman sat prim and straight-backed at the table opposite them. She was vaguely familiar. Judging by the crisp blouse and smart pencil skirt, she was probably a new assistant of Rob’s. They were always young and attractive and they never lasted longer than a month. Rob wasn’t renowned for his patience.
A few wisps of the new girl’s honey-colored hair escaped her elegant bun and framed her pretty face. Stylish spectacles shielded her hazel eyes. She darted a glance at me and looked away. Skittish. I’d give her a fortnight before Rob gave her the boot.
“Grab a seat, Kieran.” Sadie gestured to the empty seat opposite her.
I slid in to sit next to the new girl. Rob glared at me from across the table as though he was playing out a million ways he’d like to see my slow and painful death. Nausea churned my gut and a drum beat in my temple. My head hurt so much that perhaps he actuallywaswitnessing my slow and painful death. Was it possible to die of a hangover? Maybe if it was one this epic.
“Nice of you to join us, Earnshaw.” Rob flashed a not-so-subtle glance at his watch.
I inclined my head and regretted it. The movement made the pulse in my temple beat harder. “No problem.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Good night, last night?”
“Nothing to write home about.”
I smoothed a hand over my disheveled hair and hoped I didn’t look as bad as I felt. Last month, an online poll had named me the third-sexiest footballer in the Premier League. Now I could probably pass for the third-sexiest exhumed footballer.Fuck it.It was enough that I’d turned up. Rob should have known better than to ask.
Sadie pasted on a sugary smile. “Have you met Joanie? Joanie plays for the women’s team.”
“And she’s Mortimer Fox’s daughter.” I didn’t miss the trace of warning in Rob’s voice.
I twisted in my seat to survey her.Really?No one would ever make the connection that this was a world-famous rock star’s daughter. This woman’s prim, reserved demeanor was a world apart from her father’s edgy, Gothic aesthetic. She looked sweet and bookish, whereas her father looked like he slept in a coffin and could turn into a bat at will.
Mortimer Fox was one of the world’s most famous rock stars, and a pain in my arse. He was on the Calverdale board, which gavehim license to swan around the place, bugging everyone whenever he felt like it. The son, Ollie Fox, wasn’t much better. Ollie was the new darling of the music industry. It was impossible to escape from his annoying earworm songs. The moment you stepped into a department store or turned on the radio, Ollie Fox would be screaming at you. Jack had started partying with Ollie, and it couldn’t end well. That celebrity scene was full of rich entitled pricks, drugs, and booze, and my brother was desperate to fit in.
Unsurprising that Mortimer Fox’s daughter was lurking at the club. Nepotism was alive and well at Calverdale United. It wasn’t enough to put his spoiled nepo-baby son at the top of the music charts, Mortimer had also managed to put his daughter on his favorite football team. That’s the way the world worked for people like this. Joanie glanced at me and mumbled something that sounded like hello.
“Hi,” I said.
A pink blush climbed her slim pale neck, and she fixed her gaze on the pen in her hand.
“Great. Thank you both so much for doing this.” Sadie pulled some papers out of a file and put them in front of us.
Doing what?Rob had told me nothing. “What is this about?”
“You’re doing a commercial,” Rob said.
My blood ran cold.No. Fucking. Way.I’d made a few select endorsement deals, but I stuck to fashion and cars. One young lad on the team had done a commercial for mayonnaise last year. His delivery had been so stiff it made him the laughing stock of the locker room. He’d been nicknamed Eggy ever since. Even his mum called him Eggy. I couldn’t remember his real name.
“Come on, Rob. Give me a break. You know I hate all this stuff. You’ll have plenty of volunteers. Give it to Sean.”
He held up a hand to silence me. “The board want to see you pulling your weight for the club.”
I folded my arms. “And the twenty goals I scored last season isn’t enough?”
Rob smoothed his tie. “You’ve turned up late for three training sessions and missed this morning completely. You’re lucky I’m not kicking you off the team.”
A sour taste rose in my throat. He had a point. The late nights were spiraling. It was hard to swallow, but someone needed to keep an eye on these lads. The team captain, Sean Wallace, had nearly had the shit kicked out of him last night after he picked a fight with the wrong guys over a game of pool.
This team was a bunch of spoiled kids, and when the booze got flowing, things escalated. I was only there because of Jack. Hanging out with Sean and his celebrity cronies was still novel and exciting for my younger brother. I got it. I’d been the same at his age. Soon he’d realize what Sean was really like. Until he wised up, I wouldn’t let my brother out of my sight with that lot.
“Half the team was out last night,” I said.
