Tonight, you are my prize - Chapter 22
Just two days later, Julian Thorne was anonymously reported for tax evasion and illegal appropriation, which landed him in a detention center.
That same evening, the writer who had first written fanfiction about Leo Archer and me posted a new story.
“Dropping a new story to celebrate the ex-husband going to jail.”
I clicked on it casually. It was some kind of conference room scene.
After that, she would post another long story within a couple of days of every match.
In just a few short months, she had amassed a following of hundreds of thousands.
It was the final match of the Spring Split.
Leo Archer and his teammates secured a dominant 3:1 victory.
As the team’s new owner, I stood right behind Leo Archer, watching them lift the trophy together.
Finn turned and said, “Boss, want to get in the photo with us?”
I nodded and walked over, only to find that the only empty space was the one right next to Leo Archer.
We stood shoulder to shoulder, holding the championship trophy together.
It was late spring, on the cusp of summer, and the air was hot.
He was in a short-sleeved shirt, and his warm skin pressed against mine.
The scent of eucalyptus, intensified by the heat, made me, for reasons I couldn’t quite grasp, think of the story I’d read before bed last night.
[Victoria Sterling’s faint, sweet scent, barely there, mingled with Leo Archer’s woody notes, becoming an elegy under the moonlight.]
[The damp waves crashed against the rocks, the surging white foam, every inch steeped in that complex aroma.]
[Leo Archer asked in a hoarse voice, “Can I have a taste?”]
…
“Boss, why is your face so red?”
I snapped back to reality to find we were already at the victory banquet.
Though I hated to admit it, I’d been lost in thought the whole time, my mind filled with rather explicit things.
The fictional scenes and the real, blissful moments when we had been perfectly in sync intertwined in my mind, gradually morphing into an overwhelming urge.
I threw back several glasses of wine and stood up. The alcohol hit me. I steadied myself against the table and said, “You all celebrate. I’m heading home.”
“The boss is drunk. Leo, you should take her home.”
The words “No, don’t” were on my lips, but before I could get them out, Leo was already on his feet.
“Let’s go.”
