“I said we’re going to have to put in the hard work, but we can win. No problem.” He gives me a sly smile. “Especially if you give us some of their secrets.”
Well, well, well. Here I was telling Helen that this team wasn’t like that, and here’s Luciano asking me to tell him everything about Man United.
“You’re playing dirty, Luciano.”
He grins. “Nah, that’s Rene. He’s the dirty player. I’m just a strategist. You have to be as a team captain.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what you need to know, but I don’t see how that’s going to make a difference.”
“Is it hard because it’s your ex team? And your ex-husband’s team?”
“Yeah!” I say, giving him an obvious look. “That’s why it’s hard.”
“You don’t want us to beat them?”
“Of course I do. I want you to fucking cream them. It’s just going to be fucking weird to play them, that’s all. But that’s my problem, not the team’s.”
“Stewart is a bastardo. He will pay for what he did to you. But that’s why you’ve got to help us make sure that happens. Sure, we can win on our own, but don’t you want to see them really go down? I mean, you’re here, on our side. Dá deus nozes a quem n?o tem dentes.”
I raise my brow.
“God gives nuts to those without teeth,” he says.
My brow is still raised.
“It means we have to seize the opportunity or it’s going to go to waste,” he explains with a sigh.
“It goes against my code of ethics,” I manage to say.
Luciano crosses his arms and leans back, observing me. “Is this an actual code or your own personal code?”
“My own personal code.”
“And have you ever broke one of your ethics codes before…and enjoyed doing so?” He winks at me.
Yeah, I know what he’s getting at.
I glare at him.
“I have to think about it. How about you go worry about your team?”
“Already happening,” he says as he waltzes out the door.
Later that night, I text Alejo to come over when he’s done eating dinner with his family. There is a part of me that wishes I could have dinner with his family too. And I know that if I asked, he would welcome me with open arms.
But then what? That’s not the kind of thing you do when you’re sneaking around. And I can guarantee his mother wouldn’t approve. Not that it matters, but it sort of does.
I end up eating patatas bravas from the bar downstairs and drinking a few glasses of wine by the time Alejo is knocking at my door.
I open it, already smiling, a little off-balance, and he comes in, pulling me into a kiss, one hand at my cheek, the other at the small of my back.
There’s also something prickly pinching my skin back there.
“What the?” I say as we pull apart and twist around to see him carrying a small potted cactus in one hand.
“It’s for you,” he says, striding across the room and putting the cactus on the windowsill. “My mother has a few. They keep out evil spirits, bring good luck.”
“Another one of your superstitions?”
He gives me a one-shouldered shrug before walking back to me. “Maybe. Guess I feel like I need a lot of luck to keep you with me.”
I blink at his choice of words. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The corner of his mouth curls into a soft smile. “I haven’t been with you for a few days,” he says, slipping his hands around my waist and pulling me to him. “It feels like forever. What did you end up doing with your friend? Did you have fun?”
I frown, not sure how I even feel about it.
“Uh oh.” He runs his finger between my brows. “This line means things aren’t good.”
“It means my Botox wore off,” I joke.
“You don’t need that shit,” he says, placing his lips where his finger just was.
“Actually, I do. I’ve been told I have resting bitch face since before the term was coined. Even when I’m just thinking, people always think I’m plotting to murder someone.”
“You mean you’re not?”
I smack him across the chest and head into the kitchen to get him a glass of wine.
“I guess you heard the news about Man U,” I tell him as I pour the glass, glancing up at him.