Caught Off Guard: A Sports Romance Novella Page 3

  Ever since his mother, Aunt Judith, got sick with breast cancer, all their money went to paying for chemotherapy and hospital bills. The money to keep the maintenance of the orphanage was used up as a result, and the place started to decay. The roof started leaking, pipes rusted and burst, floor panels started to creak and break off. I told him I would pay for everything since I knew he was still working on paying for his student loans, but he was having none of it. The idiot said his pride as a man was at stake, and told me that he was going to take care of it himself.

  I told him that Aunt Judith was like the mother I never knew and that I had to help, if only to show them how much I appreciated them taking me in. They were the only family I’d ever known, so it was natural I felt the need to help. This convinced Evan to let me help, but only a little, as he said that it was still his main responsibility.

  “Shall I hire a real estate agent to look for a temporary place for the kids? I don’t want to risk them getting hurt when the place is so run down,” I suggested, but Evan shook his head and he heaved another sigh.

  “I’ve actually started getting offers to sell the place. They wanted to tear it down and put up an apartment complex on it. Another wanted to use it for a parking lot. The money’s pretty good and I was thinking–”

  “No,” I said, not letting him finish.

  “Why not? The orphanage isn’t doing so well, and the money I could get from selling the place could go a long way,” Evan said.

  “That orphanage was my home – me and all the kids that wound up there. It’s where I met you and your mom. It’s your second home, too. And you’re willing to sell it off to the highest bidder who’s going to turn that home into a fucking parking lot? We’ve already got thousands of parking lots here in New York!” I cried out.

  “Okay, okay. I’m not going to sell it. Money’s going to be tight, but I’m not selling Our Place,” Evan said, raising his hands up in surrender.

  “I already told you that if you need money, ask me! I’m practically a walking bank account! Hell, I’ll put a 5% interest rate if it makes you happy, I don’t fucking care,” I said, trying to convince him of my point.

  He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment before nodding.

  “Okay, I’ll think about it. Thanks, man,” he said, giving me a soft smile. I shuddered violently.

  “It’s cool, man. Now enough of this emotional drama, sitcom bullshit before I grow a fucking vagina. And quit smiling at me like that. I don’t do guys,” I scowled, and Evan scoffed at me.

  “And here I thought you could keep a serious conversation for once,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Come on, man. You know being serious gives me hives,” I joked. The both of us chuckled and headed for the showers.

  Chapter Six

  Charlie

  Waking up in the manor was an entirely new experience for me.

  For one thing, I’ve never had my alarm go off and my eyes open to three maids hovering over my bed, with one of them carrying my breakfast. My dog, who still remained nameless, barged into my room and jumped over the bed to wash my face with its slobbery kisses, so I excused myself first to the bathroom. By the time I got back out, the maids were still there, the dog disappeared, and my bed was all made up. They had served a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and a pot of coffee on the small table by the window, and my stomach automatically started to growl. I didn’t know why the maids were still standing there, and I didn’t know what else to do, so I smiled.

  “Um, thanks for bringing me breakfast,” I said lamely.

  “We have your schedule for today. We’d also like to ask if you need assistance in dressing up,” one of the maids said. I looked at her in confusion.

  “Schedule? I have a schedule?” I asked dumbly. And why would I need help dressing up? How old did they think I was – five?

  “Yes,” the second maid said, opening a very large and intimidating-looking book. “You have manners and etiquette training at from 8 am to 10 am, then posture and dance lessons from 10:00 am to 12 noon. You’ll have lunch afterwards, of course.”

  “Of course,” I repeated, my mind reeling as I thought about how hectic my day was going to be.

  “You’ll continue your training after lunch until 2 pm, and lastly, you’ll be learning about fashion and the Jameson brand from 2 pm till 5 pm.” The maid finished, closing the book with a flourish and then snapping her head up to look at me expectantly, like she hadn’t just told me the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.

  “Wow,” was the only thing my brain could command my mouth to say. I felt seriously overwhelmed by what she said, and I didn’t understand why I had to learn all of that. The fashion thing? Sure, because I had very limited knowledge about fashion besides a T-shirt and jeans. But manners and etiquette? I was sure that there were celebrities out there who behaved worse than I do. Why do I have to be different?

  “Are these lessons really necessary?” I asked, looking at all three of them for confirmation. They all nodded at me vigorously, and I sighed. I walked over to the table and plopped myself down to the seat, picking up a scone and took a large bite out of it, making the maids gasp loudly. I gave them my ‘What-the-fuck-is-your-problem?’ face, and they quickly bowed their heads. “Well, they can’t be that bad, right? And it’s only for today, so I say bring it!” I told them, trying to psych myself up.

  The three of them looked at each other and my stomach flopped.

  I didn’t have a good feeling about this.

  ***

  I don’t think I’m going to last a day at this rate.

  I barely had any time left to take a shower and fix myself up after breakfast, and I ended up putting my shoes on while I was making my way to the study, which I must say, was not an easy feat. I had to stop a couple of times to ask one of the maids where to go because I got lost, and by the time I got there, I was fifteen minutes late. The pinched look on my instructor’s face said that she completely disapproved.

  I was too busy trying to catch my breath to give a shit what she thought. Pardon my French.

  “Obviously, we’re going to have to work on your timing,” she said snidely, and I glared at her through the curtains of my hair.

  What a bitch, I thought grimly.

  She didn’t cut corners, either. She immediately went behind me and pulled on my shoulders, making me yelp in pain.

  “I do not work with hunchbacks,” she tutted. She walked around me once more, looking at me from head to toe. She stopped in front of me and immediately placed her hand on her forehead and massaged it with her fingers, her eyes closing as she sighed. “It seems I have my work cut out for me,” she said.

  “Excuse me?” I said, hating this woman more and more with every word that came out of her big, fat mouth.

  “No, you are not excused. Only the most dignified and regal-looking women in this industry are given a free pass for being fashionably late. And my dear, I must say, you are just late, and not at all fashionable,” she said with a huff.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but I was informed you were going to teach me about ‘manners’ and ‘etiquette’, not ‘fashion,’” I retorted.

  “You’re quite right, and judging by your response, you are lacking both. There is much to be done, my dear. Follow me,” she ordered.

  The first thing she did was to teach me all about the different forks and spoons, when they were supposed to be used, and what each one was for. I didn’t understand all the fuss about cutlery when a spoon and fork were basically innovative in themselves. I mean, you use one, you can use it for all, right? But no…not for these snotty people.

  “They all look the same, just in different sizes!” I said, looking at the silverware like they were going to jump up any second and hijack my body or something.

  “They are all different! They all have a specific place and use, so pay attention! This one is the salad spoon…this one is the coffee spoon…the one next to it is the tea spoon...,”


  “What? Coffee and tea have different spoons?!” I asked. I’ve heard of a tea spoon, but a separate one for coffee? Really?

  “But of course,” she answered simply, turning her nose up at me.

  “This is ridiculous!” I exclaimed.

  “Only for the uncultured, which we will be able to rectify before your introduction, I assure you,” she said.

  “But the party is in two weeks,” I said. “How are you going to get me ready for it in two weeks? I’ll never be able to remember all of these forks in time, much less remember when to use it!”

  “Oh, haven’t you heard? We’ll only be doing the brand launch party in two weeks. The one where you’ll be introduced has been rescheduled to the end of this month,” she said.

  I continued to stare at her with my mouth open in disbelief, and she turned her nose up at me again.

  “I will be the first to admit that I am an exceptional trainer, but even I can’t perform miracles,” she said before clapping her hands together and carrying on with her explanation.

  After forcing all that information about silverware that I never thought I needed to know, she then told me the differences between a 3-course meal, a 5-course meal, and god forbid that it exists, a 7-course meal, and when I should use all those forks and spoons on the table.

  I thought the nightmare would end there, but she immediately slammed my back to the chair and tied me up, so my back was leaning on the panel and I couldn’t move.

  “Look, I don’t know what they told you, lady. But I only have 20 dollars in my coin purse, and not much else,” I said, half-joking.

  “Oh, please. I did not tie you up to harm you,” she said.

  “Then why the hell did you tie me up with a scarf?” I asked.

  “It’s merely a training tool. Eventually, you will be able to sit, eat, and drink properly without it. Manners matter,” as soon as she finished speaking, the doors opened and servers came in carrying trays of food. The smell made my mouth water, and as soon as the guy put the food down, I made my move. The stupid scarves kept me away from it though, and I struggled to reach for everything.

  I asked if could push my chair forward, but my instructor ignored me and ate her own plate of food in that dainty, prim and proper way she wanted me to. I was about to tell her where she can shove that fork of hers when the doors opened again and my sister, Ariana, walked in. She smiled widely as she greeted my instructor with a slight hug and those fake cheek air kisses I hate girls doing.

  “Mildred, it’s been a while. How is the training?” she asked, giving me a haughty look as she said ‘training,’ and I glared at her. My instructor rolled her eyes and shook her head like she was disappointed.

  “It’s not going well at all, I’m afraid. I thought she’d make a lot of progress by now, but it’s going too slow. I would think she’d be easy to train since you’re her sister, but unfortunately, it isn’t so. I wish she were more like you, though. You were very easy to teach,” she said, praising Ariana who flipped her hair back and laughed.

  “Well, of course! What more could you expect from a daughter of a maid?” she said.

  I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists to stop myself from taking the bait. If I reacted to her jab this early in the game, then I might as well have proven that she was right and that I didn’t belong here at all. I had to control myself.

  “Maybe she needs a demonstration?” Ariana asked, and without waiting for an answer, she snapped her fingers towards one of the servers waiting by the wall and he quickly set up her place on the table. She took the napkin and placed it gently on her lap, gave me a quick smile, and began eating.

  She ate like royalty – grace and elegance with every lift of her fork, just like I expected someone born into this world of luxury would. It was painful for me to admit, but she was leagues away from me in that department. I already knew that I had a lot of catching up to do to be in the level where she was now or to even be in the level they expected me to be before the party, but it was different when I had to see with my own eyes just how large the gap was.

  They talked to each other as Ariana continued to eat, the conversation more like another demonstration than anything else, and I’d had enough. I cleared my throat, making both of them look at me.

  “May I take a break? I really need to go to the bathroom,” I fibbed. Ariana scoffed and the instructor pursed her lips but stood up from her seat to untie me. I rolled my shoulders to get rid of the stiffness and walked out of the room, not bothering to look at them as I passed by. I didn’t need to see that condescending smirk on my half-sister’s face to make me feel even worse about myself. I turned, then leaned against the wall so they wouldn’t see me, and I waited for them to speak, to say anything about me now that they thought I wasn’t there to hear them. I only needed to wait a couple of minutes before one of them spoke.

  “I wonder how long it’ll be before she breaks from the pressure,” my instructor asked, and I heard Ariana scoff.

  “She wouldn’t last a day,” Ariana replied, and I bristled with anger.

  I really wanted to go back to that room and express my rage, as my brain was already thinking up a zillion ways of inflicting pain and agony, but I held myself back. I knew that if I went in there and did exactly what I wanted, then I would only be proving her right: that I really did not have class.

  Well, I’ll show her. I kicked myself off the wall and stomped off. I’m going to be the classiest girl – nay, woman – this world has ever seen! I’ll even give Kate Middleton a run for her money.

  She wanted a battle? Well then, she better have her weapons ready, because I’m going to give her a war.

  Chapter Seven

  Sean

  I really hated wearing a tie. Actually, I hated going to swanky affairs like this one.

  “Remind me again why we’re doing this?” I asked, grumbling about this stupid tie I was supposed to wear. Why can’t I fucking tie it right?!

  “Dude, it’s all part of your endorsement contract. Just bear with it, man. They are paying you a million dollars just to wear their shit,” Evan said from the other room. I shook my head at how impossibly thin my apartment walls seem to be if he heard me ask without yelling. Should I get a new apartment?

  “Any idea which one it is?” I asked, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I think I look fine without my tie. I’m gonna ditch it.

  Then again, I look fine in anything, even without my clothes. Hell, probably even more so. HA.

  Evan opened the door and walked in, fixing the angles of his bow tie. He looked swell, too.

  “You are hopeless. You don’t even know where you’re going?” Evan asked, raising his eyebrow at me.

  “Why don’t you just shut up about that and tell me?” I snapped back, and he sighed.

  “It’s the Jameson Company. They’re holding a launch party for their new line of fashion for both men and women. I’m pretty sure that what you’re wearing is one of them,” he replied, completely deadpan and robotic.

  “You know, why don’t you just apply as my personal assistant? You’re already doing such a bang-up job,” I remarked.

  “I’m just your temporary leash-holder, Sean. And no, I don’t want to be your PA. Not for all the money in the world.”

  “And why are you going with me? Did they pay you to wear their shit, too?” I asked, ignoring his jab.

  “No, but your handler did. He couldn’t come with you because you told him not to, but he said he needed someone trustworthy to keep you in line, otherwise, you’ll just leave the party early with two or three women at your hip and cause another scandal,” Evan answered, and I sighed.

  “That was one time,” I grouched, jutting my lip out. Evan raised both of his eyebrows.

  “Really?”

  “Okay, no. But I can be a good boy if I want to,” I said, trying to sound convincing, but the look on his face told me that I had failed miserably. Evan rolled his eyes and handed me a black eye mask. “What is
this for?”

  “To cover your eyes, genius. It’s a masked ball. You can’t go in without one,” Evan said, raising his other hand and showing me an identical pair. I scoffed and put them on before checking myself out in the mirror again.

  “Damn, I make this look good,” I said, and Evan chuckled.

  “Come on, already. We’re going to be late,” he said, walking out of my room as I followed.

  “There better be some chicks there,” I said. Maybe that model I hooked up with last time will be there. She was really hot – in and out of the sack. I licked my lips as I imagined taking her perfect, round ass over my kitchen counter again.

  Then I remembered that I couldn’t take her out anymore because I had my lawyer file a restraining order on her because she turned crazy on me and wouldn’t leave my apartment, crying and acting like we were together and were going to get married soon. She even started stalking me when I finally kicked her out of my place. Yeah. FUCK THAT.

  “Oh hey, maybe that Ariana chick would finally want some of this, huh? She’s smoking hot,” I said, vaguely remembering the heiress. She was petite for my taste, but I would still tap that.

  “Dibs,” Evan immediately said, and I scowled as I remembered that he had the biggest hard-on for her. He had seen her in one of the interviews on TV, and when he realized that I had signed a contract with the company her father owned, he begged me to introduce them, like I had some sort of power to do that.

  “Fine. She’s kind of a shrimp anyway. I like my women shopping from the ladies’ department, not the kids’ section,” I jabbed, and I chuckled as he glared at me.

  I wanted to bring my car, but the hosts of the party liked to show off and had every guest invited to come via the limousine they sent over, and we were no exception. I got in first, and Evan whistled as he marveled at the inside of the vehicle. I shook my head as he started fiddling with the switches like a child that had just discovered a new toy. I settled into my seat and closed my eyes. This is probably going to take a while, so I might as well get some shut eye.