Player (A Secret Baby Sports Romance)
1
Natalie
“This isn’t what it looks like.”
The Chanel clutch drops from my hands as I stare at my fiancé, standing in front of his office desk with the blonde woman’s legs wrapped around his waist.
‘It’s not what it looks like’? Because, what it really looks a whole lot like is my fiancé with his pants around his ankles and his dick in his secretary, about ten minutes before the firm’s annual gala.
“Seriously, Vince?!” My jaw drops as I stare at them, slowly shaking my head as neither of them even makes an effort to cover up.
Jesus Christ, he’s still inside of her.
The thought is nauseating, and my stomach feels like it drops as far as my clutch lying there on the floor.
“Babe,” Vince shrugs - sheepishly but in this ‘sorry, not sorry’ way that somehow makes the entire situation even more condescending.
“Really wish you’d knocked, Natalie.”
I bark out a laugh, feeling the floor sink under my feet. His secretary slaps at his arm, almost playfully as if he’s just said some sort of faux pas at a cocktail party.
Jesus, she hasn’t even bothered to cover up at all. Her shirt is still unbuttoned, one breast hanging out of her bra, and her legs still wrapped around Vince’s waist. I frown as my eyes land on the tattoo on her bare thigh and the bile rises in my throat as I read the words, “Daddy’s Girl” inked inside the heart.
Good lord, I quickly yank my eyes away, feeling ill.
“You wish I’d knocked?” I hurl at Vince, still shaking my head and trying to process what I’m actually looking at. “Well I wish you weren’t fucking your trashy secretary, Vince.”
“Uh, excuse me, honey?” The blonde bimbo hanging off his waist and pulling at his neck-tie - one I bought him, actually - wrinkles her nose at me. She shakes her head and makes a face as if I’m the one out of line here.
“Yeah, Natalie, let’s be civil here. There’s no need for that.”
My blood pressure spikes as the rage lances through me. “Are you fucking defending her?!”
Civil. He wants me to be fucking civil to the woman with my fiancé’s cock still inside of her, right in front of me.
“Babe,” Vince shrugs condescendingly again. “You know how things are.”
I feel faint. I feel like the world is spinning under my feet as I bring my fingers up to pinch the bridge of my nose.
“No, Vince, I don’t. Why don’t you enlighten me.”
A weasley little rat grin sneers across his face. “I’m a man of power, babe.”
Right, because getting a company handed to you by your crook of a father counts as power.
“I have needs.”
“He’s got needs, honey,” the girl parrots.
My eyes flare as I drag them back to her, perched on the edge of his desk. “What?”
“It’s part of the game, Nat,” Vince says casually, with this obnoxiously bored tone to his voice. He casually waves his hand. “You know that.”
“No, I don’t know that.”
I didn’t know that being a spoiled little trust-fund kid who loves bragging about his family’s thin mob connections gave you a license to step out on your fiancé with your fucking secretary like a damn movie cliché.
“I mean, you had to know this was a part of the deal,” Vince says casually, shrugging again. “You know, being how you are and all.”
I can feel the rage billowing up inside of me. “Excuse me?”
“Nat, you’re-”
“You’re frigid, honey,” His secretary finishes for him, still sprawled across his desk smiling evilly at me. She pouts as she turns back and gives his tie a little tug. “And Vincey has needs.”
I’m going to be sick. I’m literally going to be sick right here on the carpet.
The room starts to spin around me as I reach out and steady myself on the doorframe, sucking in lungs full of air.
“Nat, you’re just-” Vince fucking shrugs again. “You are a little bit of an ice-queen sometimes.”
I need to get out of here.
“Fuck you, Vince,” I spit out, whirling around to leave. My eyes land on the group picture of us from the company picnic last year, and I suddenly feel my teeth grinding together as I realize the blonde currently on his cock is actually in the picture, smiling with her hand on his damn shoulder.
I pluck it from the shelf and smash it to the ground.
“Natalie, we’ve got the gala in twenty-”
“Fuck the gala, Vince,” I turn and spit venomously at him. “And I’ll be gone when you get home, by the way.”
He laughs. “Oh, what, you’re going to leave, Natalie?”
Natalie
“This isn’t what it looks like.”
The Chanel clutch drops from my hands as I stare at my fiancé, standing in front of his office desk with the blonde woman’s legs wrapped around his waist.
‘It’s not what it looks like’? Because, what it really looks a whole lot like is my fiancé with his pants around his ankles and his dick in his secretary, about ten minutes before the firm’s annual gala.
“Seriously, Vince?!” My jaw drops as I stare at them, slowly shaking my head as neither of them even makes an effort to cover up.
Jesus Christ, he’s still inside of her.
The thought is nauseating, and my stomach feels like it drops as far as my clutch lying there on the floor.
“Babe,” Vince shrugs - sheepishly but in this ‘sorry, not sorry’ way that somehow makes the entire situation even more condescending.
“Really wish you’d knocked, Natalie.”
I bark out a laugh, feeling the floor sink under my feet. His secretary slaps at his arm, almost playfully as if he’s just said some sort of faux pas at a cocktail party.
Jesus, she hasn’t even bothered to cover up at all. Her shirt is still unbuttoned, one breast hanging out of her bra, and her legs still wrapped around Vince’s waist. I frown as my eyes land on the tattoo on her bare thigh and the bile rises in my throat as I read the words, “Daddy’s Girl” inked inside the heart.
Good lord, I quickly yank my eyes away, feeling ill.
“You wish I’d knocked?” I hurl at Vince, still shaking my head and trying to process what I’m actually looking at. “Well I wish you weren’t fucking your trashy secretary, Vince.”
“Uh, excuse me, honey?” The blonde bimbo hanging off his waist and pulling at his neck-tie - one I bought him, actually - wrinkles her nose at me. She shakes her head and makes a face as if I’m the one out of line here.
“Yeah, Natalie, let’s be civil here. There’s no need for that.”
My blood pressure spikes as the rage lances through me. “Are you fucking defending her?!”
Civil. He wants me to be fucking civil to the woman with my fiancé’s cock still inside of her, right in front of me.
“Babe,” Vince shrugs condescendingly again. “You know how things are.”
I feel faint. I feel like the world is spinning under my feet as I bring my fingers up to pinch the bridge of my nose.
“No, Vince, I don’t. Why don’t you enlighten me.”
A weasley little rat grin sneers across his face. “I’m a man of power, babe.”
Right, because getting a company handed to you by your crook of a father counts as power.
“I have needs.”
“He’s got needs, honey,” the girl parrots.
My eyes flare as I drag them back to her, perched on the edge of his desk. “What?”
“It’s part of the game, Nat,” Vince says casually, with this obnoxiously bored tone to his voice. He casually waves his hand. “You know that.”
“No, I don’t know that.”
I didn’t know that being a spoiled little trust-fund kid who loves bragging about his family’s thin mob connections gave you a license to step out on your fiancé with your fucking secretary like a damn movie cliché.
“I mean, you had to know this was a part of the deal,” Vince says casually, shrugging again. “You know, being how you are and all.”
I can feel the rage billowing up inside of me. “Excuse me?”
“Nat, you’re-”
“You’re frigid, honey,” His secretary finishes for him, still sprawled across his desk smiling evilly at me. She pouts as she turns back and gives his tie a little tug. “And Vincey has needs.”
I’m going to be sick. I’m literally going to be sick right here on the carpet.
The room starts to spin around me as I reach out and steady myself on the doorframe, sucking in lungs full of air.
“Nat, you’re just-” Vince fucking shrugs again. “You are a little bit of an ice-queen sometimes.”
I need to get out of here.
“Fuck you, Vince,” I spit out, whirling around to leave. My eyes land on the group picture of us from the company picnic last year, and I suddenly feel my teeth grinding together as I realize the blonde currently on his cock is actually in the picture, smiling with her hand on his damn shoulder.
I pluck it from the shelf and smash it to the ground.
“Natalie, we’ve got the gala in twenty-”
“Fuck the gala, Vince,” I turn and spit venomously at him. “And I’ll be gone when you get home, by the way.”
He laughs. “Oh, what, you’re going to leave, Natalie?”