Player's Ultimatum Read online

  Player’s Ultimatum

  Yvonne Floyd’s best friend and gay soccer player Robbie Gutierrez proposes the impossible, pose as his fiancée until he can ink a lucrative contract. Hounded day and night by the media’s constant speculation over his sexual orientation, Robbie doesn’t want to run the risk of losing his career over who he sleeps with. Although Yvonne feels Robbie has lost his marbles, she takes one for the team.

  As Yvonne is initiated into the fast-paced world of international soccer, she’s ill-prepared for a mutual attraction to Robbie’s teammate, Paolo Saito. And when the Japanese-Brazilian footballer discovers her secret and turns the tables on her, Yvonne loses sight of her goal and risks sacrificing more than just her heart.

  Player’s Ultimatum

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Player’s Ultimatum Copyright © 2011 Koko Brown

  www.kokobrown.net

  Cover design by Gemini Judson

  Photography: Arsenik Photography/istockphoto.com

  Electronic book publication November 2011

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author, Koko Brown.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Other works by Koko Brown:

  Charmed

  Forever, I Do

  Frozen in Time

  Kisses & Curses

  Nerds Are Freaks Too

  The Merry Widow

  Acknowledgements

  The author acknowledges the registered trademarks for the following products and goods:

  Bentley: Bentley Motors Limited

  Coke: The Coca-Cola Company Corporation

  Cosmopolitan Magazine: Hearst Corporation

  Dolce & Gabbana: Gado S.A.R.L. Corporation

  Hershey's: Hershey Foods Corporation

  Mercedes Benz: DaimlerChrysler AG Corporation

  Range Rover: Tata Motors Limited

  Valentino: Valentino Fashion Group S.p.A

  Versace: Gianni Versace S.P.A. Societe per azioni

  Player’s Ultimatum

  By Koko Brown

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my two favorite Brazilians, Laura R. and Juliana D. and the players of A.C Pisa 1909, thank you for being so beautiful! And to Renee Michaels and Gemini Judson you ladies rock!

  Chapter One

  Roma Internazionale Football Match

  Rome, Italy

  “Time to put up or shut up.”

  In an attempt to bolster her flagging confidence, Yvonne recited Robbie’s words verbatim. Of course, talking the talk and walking the walk completely diverged into a mile-wide chasm when faced with Roma Internazionale’s friends and family box.

  Nicknamed the Hen House by the press, the soccer club’s reserved seating garnered just as much attention from the teams’ fans as the rabid media camped around it.

  Supermodels rubbed shoulders with socialites, actresses hobnobbed with reality stars. Their combined chatter rose above the sound of crying children and pregame announcements like a cacophony of over exaggerated impersonal nonsense.

  Yvonne’s shoulders slumped.

  The countless photo spreads and editorials she’d poured through before today’s game didn’t do any of them justice. Akin to exotic peacock feathers the Hen House represented the full spectrum of a multi-hued kaleidoscope, yet they shared one common denominator. All of them, unlike her, were jaw-dropping gorgeous.

  Passably cute, Yvonne knew the limits of her own looks all too well. She might have been blessed with a curvy Coke-bottle figure and thick shoulder-length hair, but her cinnamon brown skin and average looks wouldn’t call any boys to the yard. So very few tasted her milkshake. But she was fine with that. She’d been raised under the motto that quality was better than quantity and safer too.

  A few members of the Hen House cast her speculative looks through lashes, that were most likely fake, and then with dismissive flicks of their professionally styled tresses, they promptly dismissed her.

  Used to being on the outside looking in, Yvonne brushed off their unified disregard. She didn’t take a leave of absence from her graduate studies or sublease her apartment for the rest of the year for them anyway. She’d uprooted herself at the ripe old age of twenty-nine, albeit temporarily, for Robbie. And her loyalty to her best friend helped to heal the sting of their brush-off and motivated her to get into the game.

  “Posso auitarla?”

  Yvonne looked up and up until finally meeting the gaze of a man who reminded her of Don Corleone’s henchman Luca Brazi. Boxy and wide, he blocked the reserved box’s roped-off entrance.

  Why even bother? Nobody was getting past The Human Refrigerator!

  Not knowing a word of Italian, Yvonne fumbled with the access pass around her neck, holding it up for him to see. The ‘giant’ eyed the plastic ID card skeptically. She almost turned around, happy to settle for the cheap seats. At least they didn’t come with a gaggle of gorgeous, but mean spirited women.

  “Mi scusi, Signorina. Mi scusi!” The giant stepped aside, allowing her to pass.

  “No problemo!” Yvonne chirped in Spanish as she slipped past him. One language was good as another wasn’t it.

  As all eyes fell on her, Yvonne felt like a freshman on the first day of high school—all pimply faced and kinky hair. Still, she lifted her chin and smiled, hoping to win them over with her dimples. The combination of her pearly whites and twin crescents embedded into her brown skin always worked back home.

  Not with this crowd it seemed as she scanned the first few rows. She took note of the unoccupied seats, conveniently located in the center of each row, and sighed. If four years of high school taught her anything, these skinny heifers would eat their children before any of them would shift over for her.

  “G’day! There’s a seat up here.”

  Yvonne glanced up at a beautiful blond sitting several rows up and two seats from the end. Her smile stretching in gratitude and resisting the urge to thumb her nose at the hens, Yvonne took the steps two at a time. As she drew closer, a feeling of déjà vu stole over her. The other woman seemed vaguely familiar with her slender frame, high cheek bones, wavy blonde locks and doe like chocolate brown eyes.

  Yvonne gulped. Her savior was the face of Allure cosmetics! Only last week the woman’s gamine profile had convinced her to buy the cosmetic lines’ Go-On Sheer-Stay-On Sheer lip gloss in jazzy pink.

  “I’m Keitha MacDonald,” the woman volunteered, holding her hand out for a friendly handshake. “And no my father’s name isn’t Keith, damned Flight of the Concords.” Deep throated, yet lyrical, the other woman’s Australian accent poured over Yvonne like sunshine, a welcome respite this deep in the month of January.

  “I’m Yvonne Floyd,” she offered taking Keitha
’s hand in hers. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Glancing down at the seats below them, the other woman winked at her. Although the hens didn’t look directly at them, their chatter had died down to monosyllables. Only the children kept up their raucous caterwauling.

  Keitha pretended to clear her throat. “I’m Freddy MacDonald’s ball and chain,” she said, her voice rising with each syllable. “Which player are you cheering for?” Her perfectly, arched eyebrows lifted, prompting Yvonne to play along.

  “I’m Robbie Gutierrez’s fiancée.”

  Satisfied she hadn’t come to the match to cheer on one of their men, the chatter in the box resumed.

  Keitha settled back into her seat, the black handkerchief-style sweater she wore draping elegantly over her long limbs. “Now we can talk without an audience.” She tipped her head to the side and eyed her curiously. Disconcerted, yet relying on her script Yvonne steeled herself.

  “So…you’re Robbie’s fiancée?”

  Yvonne nodded afraid she might say too much too soon.

  “Can I tell you a secret?” Keitha leaned in, her chocolate brown eyes boring into hers. Without waiting for her permission, the other woman continued, “no offense, but we were all wondering when a Sheila would finally show up. Robbie's just too good-looking to be single. Don’t get me wrong. I’m deeply in love with my Freddy, but if I were single I would have gone after Robbie myself.”

  Although she hated to deceive this beautiful creature, who’d welcomed her while the others had shunned her, Yvonne knew when she’d signed on for this role she would need to jump into the deep end with both feet.

  “Well everyone’s curiosity should be satisfied because Robbie Gutierrez’s fiancé is here now.” Yvonne inhaled deeply and then released it with a heavy dose of guilt. “In the flesh,” she said, and then plastered a smile bigger than Texas on her face.

  “About time.” Keitha playfully slapped Yvonne’s hand. “Footballers attract women like flies to buttermilk, as you will—”

  Keitha lip-synched the rest of her sentence because the crowd suddenly went wild; erupting into a riot of cheers and cow bells as more than two dozen soccer players wearing red and black jersey’s and black knee-length shorts trotted onto the field. As if on cue, Roma Internazionale's fans began to sing the team’s fight song while their football idols jogged around the perimeter. Even a few of the hens joined in, chanting the anthem with awe-inspiring enthusiasm.

  One young woman in particular sang louder than the rest. Sporting dark tresses professionally streaked with platinum and falling to the middle of her back, her throw-me-a-sandwich frame supported a pair of snug jeans and thigh-high boots.

  Obviously, number sixteen had wedded and bedded her because the halter top she wore had been cut from one of his soccer jerseys. His name and number were emblazoned across the front, instead of the back.

  “That’s Nicky Merchant, she’s a famous pop star in the U.K. or used to be,” Keitha snorted, rolling her brown eyes heavenward. “Have you ever heard of her?”

  Even though Yvonne considered herself rather hip and quite familiar with pop culture, she hadn’t. At her blank look, Keitha snickered.

  “No worries. No one else seems to remember her fifteen minutes of fame either. You’ll see and hear a lot of her, she’s a press hog and she tries to sing at every gathering. Hopefully, she won’t sing at tonight’s gala.” Keitha winked before turning her attention to the coin toss.

  Yvonne had been warned football was an obsession in Europe, but she’d never seen this much passion and zeal. Not even at one of her Uncle Ray Ray’s Pop Warner football games.

  From the initial kick-off, the crowd grew frenzied with every faint, punt and drive. And each time a team entered the goal area, the crowd came to their feet. Despite all the flying sweat, grass and curse words, neither team scored a goal at the end of the first half.

  That all changed when Robbie took charge of the ball five minutes into the second half. Yvonne glanced over at one of two JumboTrons positioned at opposite ends of the field and sighed. Robbie had always been a cutie pie, now he eclipsed just handsome and bordered on gorgeous.

  His skin, a warm cocoa brown, glistened with sweat that intensified his exotic coloring and the tattoos running down his muscular arms. He’d cut his naturally curly hair short on the sides and the top like a fresh military recruit, drawing attention to his perfect angular features. If he hadn’t followed his dream to be a professional athlete, Robbie could’ve easily graced the cover of any male magazine.

  Keeping the ball close, he drove down the middle of the pitch, pulling the other teams’ players behind him like water down a drain. His lightning speed carried him past the Edmonton Druids and an open shot at the goal. Several yards out, he set himself up, took three quick steps, drew back his foot and made contact with the ball.

  Along with everyone else in the stadium, Yvonne jumped to her feet.

  Thousands of cell phones and cameras flashed in unison. Their thunderous clicking and the nervous shuffling of feet overshadowed any other sounds as everyone within a five mile radius seemed to hold their breath.

  His eyes on the ball, the Edmonton goalie moved into place. As he dove to the left, the ball suddenly curved out of his reach, slightly grazed his fingers and then crashed into the net’s upper right side pocket.

  While thunderous cheers erupted around him, Robbie opened his arms wide in triumph, a scream parting his lips. He spun around and ran back to the center of the field and his waiting teammates, his arms trailing behind him.

  “Gutierrez...Gutierrez...Gutierrez,” the crowd roared as his teammates scooped him up and lifted him in the air.

  “Are those church bells ringing?” Yvonne wondered aloud.

  “Of course, the Pope’s a big fan of RI. Come on. Let’s beat the crush and meet the team in the tunnel,” Keitha yelled, tugging on Yvonne’s shirt sleeve.

  Yvonne followed the other woman out of the sky box and along the upper mezzanine, to a service elevator guarded by two security guards practically dancing with one another over the team’s one point victory.

  “Ciao, Bruno e Antonio.”

  The men stopped celebrating and came instantly to attention.

  “Bonjourno, Signora MacDonald,” both of them chorused.

  “Great match, no?” One of the guards asked, while the other pressed the elevator button.

  “Si, it was, Bruno. Hopefully, the rest of the season will be just as stellar.” Keitha slid her arm through one of hers and pulled Yvonne into her side. “Speaking of victorious let me introduce you to my new friend, Yvonne Floyd. Robbie Gutierrez’s fidanzata.”

  “Gutierrez!” Each of them took turns shaking her hand. “Bienvenuti a Roma.”

  As Yvonne thanked them, the elevator doors slid open. With broad grins, the guards stepped aside, allowing them to pass. In moments, the elevator dropped to an underground tunnel beneath the stadium. Wild whoops of victory echoed off the tunnel’s concrete walls, drawing both of their attention. Once again, Yvonne fortified her nerves.

  “They look like a bunch of boys,” Yvonne commented, somewhat leery of the men barreling towards them, Robbie still held aloft their shoulders. Spotting her, he yelled for his teammates to stop and let him down. Like fine china, they carefully set him on his feet.

  Walking toward her with a slow, yet confident swagger, Robbie gifted her with a dazzling white smile. Despite their charade, her heart did an unconscious pitter patter.

  So, this is what being gay did to a man? Amazing how being in touch with one’s feminine side, could make a man seem inordinately more handsome. Yvonne, like everyone within ear shot, couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  “Hey gorgeous,” Robbie purred, pulling her into his arms. The faint scent of expensive cologne intermingled with grass and sweat tickled her nose. Slanting his head to the side, he crushed his mouth against hers.

  To any onlooker, their kiss looked like a long wet one. In truth, Robbie only mumbled ag
ainst her lips. “Smile, you’re on candid camera.”

  “Cheese,” Yvonne murmured, barely moving her lips. To up the ante, she closed her eyes and clutched Robbie’s broad shoulders. Too bad their arrangement would only be temporary, a girl could get used to this.

  “Golden Globes?”

  “Oscars,” Yvonne chuckled, her laughter turning into a yelp and a playful swat on her behind.

  “You were great out there. I’m so proud of—”

  Pop!

  Yvonne scrambled away before a shower of champagne bubbles flowed over Robbie’s head onto his red and black Roma Internazionale jersey. Smiling like a child on Christmas morning, he stood basking in his victory bath.

  Yvonne beamed with pride. He’d worked so hard to reach this level in his profession. While every other kid in their old neighborhood played basketball or baseball, Robbie adored soccer. A virtual pariah, he didn’t have any fellow admirers. Still, he remained loyal to his sport of choice.

  Like most kids, Robbie took the usual road in organized sports, playing in several soccer leagues throughout Orlando, Florida. During his junior and senior year he led their high school to the state finals in soccer, earning himself a full ride to the University of Indiana where he helped the Hoosiers win the National Championships in 2003 and 2004.

  Upon graduation, Robbie could have entered himself into the MLS draft. Instead, he walked away to pursue his real dream. To play professional football in Europe where people ate, drank and sometimes killed for the sport.

  Determined, he’d returned home and begged Trenton Kirksey, a former English Premier League Football player, to train him. This led to a spot on the Men’s National team and a trial with Leeds FC.

  After playing a season on their reserve team, he bounced around on loan for several more seasons. He finally found a semi-permanent home when he scored a two-year contract with Roma Internazionale, one of Italy’s premiere football clubs as a reserve forward.