POV Akhyra

"I want him gone, Dad," I unleash as soon as my father picks up. 

"Akhyra darling, what are you talking about?"

"This footballer of yours that you sent here? He's not going to cut it."

I dialed my father's number as soon as I got back to my bedroom after eavesdropping on the briefing that my team had prepared for the new driver. From where I stood, I could see his mocking expression while Hannah explained to him the distanciation rules. Clearly, he thinks this is all a joke. 

If only Carper was here with me, I wouldn't have to go through the trouble of trying to find someone fit for the job. He's always been a great judge of character. His pregnant wife's delivery date was close, so when I finished my tour, Carper had to go back home to be there with her to welcome their new baby

"Has Lucian caused trouble already?" Dad inquires. "I told him to behave."

His last words take on a menacing tone, and while I don't want the guy around me, there's no need to give him a bad reputation to my dad. 

"He hasn't done anything, Dad, but I can feel that he's not going to take this driving task seriously." My father always values hard work and dedication, so I expect this line to work on him, but to my astonishment, he starts laughing.

"Glad to hear he's not enjoying it. He's punished for getting his ass kicked out of the quarter-final. Please make sure to give him hell."

"But Dad..."

"I'm sorry darling, but I've got to go. The boys are slacking off on the field."

"Okay, later" I answer, defeated.

"Love you, Starlight."

The familiar nickname never fails to make me smile. My father had started calling me that back when I first showed an interest in dancing as a child. After the line goes dead, I weigh my options regarding this unwanted intruder waiting for me in the kitchen. I suppose if Dad isn't going to make his player leave, I'll have to make Lucian Moreno leave on his own will.

Once I've decided on this exciting plan, I head downstairs to join my team in the kitchen. Before stepping into view, I take a moment to do a final once-over of the man who's officially become a massive headache that I'm forced to tolerate for a short period. 

At least he put in some effort in his attire. The previous candidates showed up here as if they were going to the beach, wearing bermuda shorts, Hawaiian shirts, and flip flops. Whereas Lucian clothing style is a combination of chic and casual. He wears a beige polo shirt that perfectly fits a sturdy chest and accentuates his bulging biceps. Dark brown trousers and penny loafers compliment his athletic legs. I can't help but notice how the matching colors flatter his fair skin. 

The way he's positioned himself in his chair, left ankle resting on top of his knee, in a laid-back posture, enhances his air of pure detachment. I spot the ghost of a smirk on his lips as Hannah wraps up her presentation. His eyes are glinting in amusement. He must think he's been hired as a circus clown. It's time to make an apparition to set the record straight.

When I appear at the entrance, Hannah and Valentino move quickly to the side so I can walk to my designated chair near the window. My breakfast is waiting for me on a smaller table next to my seat. Hannah introduces Lucian to whom I pay no attention. I pick up my glass of orange juice and focus on Valentino.

"What are they saying about me?"

Tino checks his tablet to give me the latest report. "The general consensus is that you're a self-centered diva who hates your fans."

As Tino keeps on summarizing the mediatic backlash that I've received since the London fiasco, I notice Mr. Footballer not bothering to hide his amused smirk.

"That's enough," I order, immediately silencing Valentino. "Hannah, how's our recent content performing?

As part of our damage control procedure, Hannah had gathered clips and pictures of previous charity events that I had attended in the past to remind people that I'm not the heartless bitch the media claims I am. 

My social media manager grimaces as she answers, "The comments are still saying that you're canceled. I think using old footage is the problem."

"You're right," Valentino agrees. "Because what happened in London is recent, the public would need to see you interact with kids in a more recent setting in order to defy the narrative."

"What do you suggest?" I ask before taking a bite of the omelets Valentino has prepared. As for everything he cooks, this meal is a regal to my taste buds.

"Lucian, you're a local," Hannah jumps in. "Do you know any place where kids gather? We might make an apparition, buy them some soda, and take a few pictures of Miss Morel and voilà!"

"But we need to be careful not to repeat the same mistake as London," Tino warns. "What if they are so over excited that they crowd Miss Morel?"

"We need a decoy," Hannah suggests pensively. "To get them distracted enough while still making her the star of the show.

"I've got an idea," Lucian intervenes. "There's a soccer field nearby where kids often play. If I make an apparition and start playing with them, they will be all over me, then you guys can proceed to buy refreshments and snap your pictures."

How shocking, he has a brain after all.

"That's... brilliant!" Hannah exclaims.

"You ever worked in P.R. before?" Valentino asks, impressed.

"He doesn't need to," I point out. "He's got his own press scandal to bury. Isn't that right?"

I hold his stare, defying him to deny it, but he doesn't. 

"We could both benefit from that," Lucian admits. "As you've pointed out, you're not the only star who's gotten in trouble here."

I hate the way he smiles as he says it. 

***

When we arrive by the football field, Hannah and I remain in my dad's car. Earlier, I decided to let Valentino ride with Lucian, and Hannah simply followed his car. We watch as both of them make their way toward the field, and as soon as the children lay eyes on Lucian, there's a huge clamor as all of them come up to him.

"Wow," Hannah whistles. "He is really something. Now's our chance. Let's go buy the refreshments."

Not too far from the field, there's a fruit stand with a small freezer positioned in front of it. It's full of local sodas. Hannah only speaks English, and I realize too late that I'll have to be the one who does the talking. Thankfully, the old lady managing the stand apologizes for having a bad back, and she remains seated far enough, allowing me the opportunity to safely approach her merchandise and look through the different beverages available. 

Hannah snaps some pictures while I speak with the lady. My Creole is a bit rusty, but we still communicate well. Since I have no idea about what kind of drinks the kids would prefer, I end up buying all of the sodas in the freezer. The lovely lady has someone bring the freezer and even gets two chairs for Hannah and I so we can comfortably sit under a tree as we watch the game unfold.

"That's one thing done," Hannah says. "Now we just have to wait for the kids to finish playing and come get their drink.

I would have expected Lucian to be uncomfortable playing in trousers, but he takes possession of the ball with the fluidity of someone who has mastered his domain. His toned legs dribble past his opponents with agility, while he simultaneously surveys which one of the kids from his team is open to receive a pass. 

Somewhere along the game, Lucian takes off his shirt. The second his chiseled pectorals come into view, followed by sculpted six packs that belong to the pages of a fitness magazine, Hannah morphs into a rabid fangirl. I've never witnessed that attitude before.

"Why, hello there," she purrs shamelessly. "Someone is built like a Greek god."

"He's not all that," I retort out of spite. Hannah glances at me, her disapproval written all over her face.

"Are you kidding? The muscles of his back seem to have a life of their own, and don't get me started on those firm..."

"I'm hungry," I cut her off. "Go find me something to eat that fits within my nutritional plan."

She looks at me helplessly as she pleads, "But I don't speak Creole, and my French is basic."

I redirect my gaze on the field, signaling that it's no use to bargain. "I've just given you the opportunity to practice both. You're welcome."

While Hannah is gone, the play intensifies. Lucian's team is apparently winning while Valentino's team seems to be fighting for their life.

At some point, the ball gets out of the field and lands almost at my feet. The player responsible for the kick begins to move in my direction to retrieve it, but Lucian stops him and jogs toward me instead. He stops barely a few feet away from me, sweat dripping on his forehead and down his abs. I am more than grateful for my sunglasses. 

"Hey there, your royal highness," he calls out mischievously. "I apologize for the inconvenience, but can you pass this ball to your humble servant?" 

I know this irritating jock is trying to get under my nerves, but I will not give him the satisfaction of ruffling my feathers.

"If I'm royalty, surely you do not expect me to obey the words of a peasant."

 "I would get it myself. The issue is that I don't want to invade your majestic personal space."

I look at the ball, and I am forced to admit that he's got a point. I reluctantly stand up and kick the ball with as little force as possible. It rolls down toward Lucian, who catches it with his foot, then shoots it upward, where it bounces on one of his pectoral before landing in his hands.

What a show off.

"I am most grateful for your kindness," Lucian drawls with a ridiculous bow. "Feels good to do what you're told for once, no?

He departs with the most arrogant smile before I can think of a scathing comeback.

When the match finally ends, I let Valentino and Lucian handle the distribution of the sodas and retreat far from the scene. Hannah goes crazy with the camera of her phone, capturing everything. She even films a few kids saying, "Mèsi anpil Akhyra". Thank you so much, Akhyra.

Lucian takes a bottle of water from the freezer and gulps down half of it before dousing the rest all over his head. It's almost ridiculous how the water seems to glide in slow motion over his raven hair, styled in a side-swept undercut. The drenched waves falling over the right side of his face now stick to his cheekbones, droplets running down his jawline. Some rogue drops that have fallen on his chest create a sinuous path between his abs. 

Lucian's eyes find mine as if he had sensed my gaze, but I'm reminded that I'm safely hidden behind their shades.

"You're ready to go back home, or do you need more PR stunts?" 

I don't do him the favor of answering. Instead, I speak to Hannah. "Did you get enough content?"

"We're good to go," she confirms. 

"Alright, we're done here."

Hannah and I head back to the car while Lucian stays a bit more to let the kids take pictures with him. 

From the driver's seat, Hannah has rolled down her window to admire the scene. "He's such a natural," she swoons.

Naturally arrogant, yes. I'm going to have fun making him miserable over the next couple of days.