Page 44 of Payback
MY DICK FUCKING TWITCHES THEsecond I lock eyes on Allie as she strides out to the limo in the player parking lot. Evidently whatever we have in store for the night requires limousine transportation, which seems a bit ostentatious to me. But considering the net worth of this family of athletes, it’s probably just another drop in the bucket.
I drink in Allie’s appearance, starting with her sexy black heels. I have to bite back a laugh because there’s a little jolt in her step as she does everything in her power not to skip. It’s probably the cutest, most endearing goddamned quirk that I’ve ever seen in a woman. A flowy, pale pink skirt with black lace lining the bottom ripples in the light breeze. On top, she’s wearing a tiny black crop top that reveals a few inches of her waistline and more cleavage than the cock in my trousers can handle. Thank fuck most of this lot is related to her because I’d be really damn jealous watching her flounce around like this near a group of single guys. Especially single soccer players.
The rest of the women are dressed remarkably as well. I’m suddenly grateful that I had a button-down in my garment bag or I’d be feeling really underdressed right now. We all compliment the ladies before filing into the limo to head to our destination that is still a mystery. It seems only the women know where we’re going, but Allie and Freya are just as clueless as me and Mac. Allie slides down to the end of the limo to sit beside me, and I have to swallow my tongue as her asymmetrical skirt reveals a good deal of thigh. There’s champagne in a nearby bucket, so I offer drinks to everyone in the vehicle in an attempt to focus my eyes on anything other than the stunning woman beside me.
Freya is seated next to Allie, decked out in a black lace dress. Mac smiles sweetly at her, but she narrows her eyes at him while doing a cheers with Lis.
“Here, Allie. Drink my champagne and describe it to me in great detail,” Belle says, handing over her full glass of bubbly.
Allie laughs as she double fists two drinks. “Are you serious?”
Belle’s dark eyes grow ominous. “As a heart attack.”
Indie passes her glass to Freya. “Same goes for you.”
The two women look at each other and laugh as they do the Harris wives’ bidding, and I start to think this might help my chances of getting Allie to open up to me tonight like Freya advised.
We drive for about an hour around the city, drinking and laughing and making guesses about where we’re headed. Allie seems extra giggly as she and Freya bond over some television show calledHeartland. I even see them exchange numbers so they can hang out outside of work-related meetings.
We end up in SoHo at a building that houses a dance club. I assume that’s where we’re headed, but Vi leads us to the door right beside it and we head up a rickety flight of stairs. It isn’t until I see the familiar wooden floorboards and mirrors that I realise we’re in a dance studio.
A woman with short, white blonde hair that reminds me of my mother comes out to greet us with a man who’s dressed in a purple silk shirt, black dress pants, and dance shoes.
“Hello to you all. I am Francesca De La Rosa, and my husband here is Ricardo De La Rosa. We will be your dance instructors this evening.”
I glance over at Allie, who has a stunned look on her face, along with Mac, who looks like he might actually vomit.
“Tonight we will be teaching you the basics of the Viennese waltz!” Belle lets out a double whoop and Francesca smiles at her shared enthusiasm. “I know you are all beginners, so please, do not worry about your skills. We are here to have fun and help you all connect with your partners.”
At that moment, I lock eyes with Allie, who is shaking her head in fear? Excitement? I can’t quite tell. But what I do know is that this is the perfect setting for me to impress her.
“There is champagne for those of you who need a little liquid courage,” Ricardo says in a thick Spanish accent. “Please, have a drink and get comfortable. We will begin in five minutes.”
We make our way over to the table that’s lined with flutes of champagne, and I can’t help but notice that Allie is drinking hers in large gulps.
I sidle up next to her and whisper in her ear, “Nervous?”
“Um, yes!” she barks out and takes another large gulp.
“Why?”
She laughs and shakes her head, refusing to answer.
My brows furrow. “What? What aren’t you saying?”
Belle appears next to us and hands Allie a flute. “Again, please.”
Allie rolls her eyes. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
Belle places her hands on her swollen stomach. “Are you trying to deprive me of the simple pleasures in life?”
Allie’s face softens. “Of course not. But why can’t Tanner help you?”
“He hates champagne,” Belle replies with a wave of the hand. “And unless it’s something perverted, his descriptive skills leave a lot to be desired. Come on, just one more glass.”
Allie exhales in defeat and takes a drink of Belle’s champagne. I wrinkle my nose as she describes the fizzy bubbles and dry finish because champagne is definitely not my drink of choice either. After she’s done and Belle walks away, I resume my questioning.
“Tell me why you’re nervous,” I repeat, placing my hand on the small of her back and letting my fingers rub along her exposed flesh.
