Free Web NovelChapter 32: [32] "Rose Part 2"
Rose Montgomery did not google him that night.
She told herself that as she lay in the dark of her apartment, her pink hair spread across her pillow like spilled liquid ice-cream.
She had come home, changed, made tea she didn’t drink and sat at the window for twenty minutes. She had gone to lay on her bed and began staring at the ceiling.
She did not google him...
She googled him at 1:17 AM.
The results were immediate and very overwhelming. Thank you internet.
THE AMERICAN BET. THE MENACE. TICK-TOCK. A dozen headlines, each louder than the last. Interview clips. Match highlights. The gala footage with him in a custom-made, standing perfectly still while Fontaine shattered champagne bottles in the background.
She watched the gala clip twice.
Not because of the drama but because of Luc’s stillness. The way he had not moved a single centimetre and let the whole room unravel around him, then adjusted his clothes and walked away.
She put her phone face down on the mattress.
"This is a problem," she said to herself. "I might be in love."
Zara called at 8 AM.
Rose answered before the second ring, which told Zara everything she needed to know.
"You looked him up," Zara said.
"Good morning to you as well."
"Rose!"
"Fine. Yes." Rose pulled her duvet to her chin. "He’s THE Luc Beaumont. He plays for SC Valois. He’s twenty years old and he’s in a public war with our club’s highest-paid player. The way he looked at that woman across the table like she was the only one in the room. I hope she’s not his girlfriend."
Zara said, "You hope she’s not-- are you blind, didn’t you see-- So you want him."
"I didn’t say that."
"You described how he looked at another woman as though it was a selling point. Don’t tell me you enjoy that type of guy."
Rose opened her mouth as she wanted to say something, then she closed it.
"That’s not healthy, Rose."
"I know that."
"He’s Fontaine’s rival. He’s essentially the enemy of the club that pays your wages."
"I know that too."
Zara exhaled slowly. "Then what are you going to do?"
Rose stared at the ceiling as the morning light was coming in through the curtains.
"Nothing. SC Valois doesn’t have a women’s team, I may never get to go to their grounds," she said. "I’m going to do absolutely nothing."
"Good."
"He’s just a man."
"Yes. He is just a man, Rose."
"I’ll forget about it by Thursday."
But Zara knew Rose better than that.
---
Thursday. Paris Royal training ground.
The women’s team shared the facility on alternating mornings. Rose arrived early.... she always arrived early. It was the one habit Zara couldn’t break her out off.
Rose was lacing her boots in the changing room when her teammate Sylvie dropped a copy of L’Équipe on the bench beside her.
"Your boyfriend’s on the back page," Sylvie said, grinning.
Rose looked at the paper without picking it up.
The paper feautured Luc Beaumont, mid-stride, photographed from the side during the Corse match, his face tilted slightly down, he looked "hot as fuck."
"Take it easy there, Rose."
"Did I say that out loud? Sorry."
A small headline beneath it: BEAUMONT LEADS VALOIS TO TWENTY FIVE POINTS IN TEN GAMES. UNBEATEN IN EIGHT MATCHES WITH ONLY ONE LOSS ALL SEASON.
"He’s not my boyfriend," Rose said.
"You’ve been staring at that paper for ten seconds," Sylvie said.
Rose looked down and finished lacing her boot.
Practice was sharp that morning. Rose was a winger at the left side. She was quick and direct, with good crossing delivery. She had been Paris Royal’s best female outfield player for two seasons. She played with her heart on her sleeve, every run committed, every decision made without the half-second hesitation that plagued cautious players.
It was the way she did most things.
Today she ran harder than usual. Worked the crossing drill until her left ankle ached. She even stayed after the structured session to work out link up plays with the reserve striker.
Zara also stayed. She watched from the far side of the pitch, doing her own drills.
She didn’t say anything after practice. She just appeared beside Rose on the walk to the changing room. That was Zara’s language. Her presence instead of words.
Rose appreciated it, but she also knew it meant Zara was worried about her.
---
It was that same Thursday evening when Paris Royal held their quarterly sponsors’ mixer in the main suite that looked above the first team’s pitch.
Rose had forgotten it was holding. She turned up in a grey training jacket and dark jeans because she had come straight from the gym. Sylvie handed her a glass of champagne at the door as though she anticipated the mistake.
The room was full of suits. And then it wasn’t a room full of suits anymore... because Rose saw him.
Luc Beaumont was across the room in a black jacket, hands in his pockets, speaking to a man in a league-branded badge. He looked out of place in exactly the right way. Like a knife at a dinner table. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm
He was not supposed to be there.
Rose’s champagne glass stopped halfway to her lips.
Zara materialised at her shoulder. She had also just arrived. She took one look at the room, then at Rose, then across at the far corner.
"Why is he here," Zara said flatly.
"I don’t know," Rose said.
"Uhmm, Rose your staring."
"I know."
"You said you’d forget him by Thursday." Zara’s expression was the one she had on when she had already calculated how something was going to end. She used it rarely, but she was using it now.
Luc had been invited by Valérie’s league contact who was currently at the end of a sponsor deal with Paris Royal. Luc had only agreed because Valérie had phrased it as ’non-negotiable’.
He was already thinking about leaving.
The man with the badge had been talking for four minutes about broadcast rights in Southeast Asia. Luc was nodding at intervals to appear like he was engaged by the conversation. He wasn’t really.
He looked up once across the room.
There was a woman with long pink hair standing near the entrance in a grey jacket holding a champagne glass like she had forgotten she was holding it. She was staring at him.
He held the look for a few seconds.
She didn’t look away which was unusual. Most people would look away after they’ve been caught staring.
He turned back to the man with the badge. "Weird. But she has beautiful hair," he thought to himself.
Rose finally looked away. Her face was warm and her cheeks were a shade of red now.
"He saw me," she said under her breath.
"I know, I saw." Zara said.
"We locked eyes for two seconds"
Zara sighed
Rose set her champagne down on a passing tray and straightened her jacket. She had not planned to walk across any room tonight given the way she dressed and how it would stand out. She was very much the kind of woman who made declarations out of impulse.
She was absolutely about to walk across this room.
Zara’s hand landed on her arm. "Not tonight," she said quietly. Her dark eyes were steady and certain. "He doesn’t even know who you are, plus he’s talking with someone."
Rose looked at the hand on her arm. Then at Zara. "I know."
Then she relaxed herself, picked up a fresh glass from a passing waiter. She stayed where she was.
Across the room, Luc said something that made the badge man laugh, then he stood up and they shook hands before he excused himself.
He passed just beside her on the way out. A little bit more and he would have grazed her shoulder.
He didn’t look at her, but Rose watched him until the door closed.
Zara didn’t bother saying anything, why, because there was nothing to say.
