Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chelsea

“Three of them?” Sadie stared at me. “For real? How are you still able to walk?”

“With a bit of difficulty,” I said with a laugh. “But I have no regrets. Although I was tired at work today.”

Doctor Stuart kept giving me worried glances, but he didn't say anything. Presumably, he was waiting for me to ask for help if I needed it. Instead, I got on with my job. Today, that included watching the guys train. They were impressive, driven and skilled, even though they gave each other hell every chance they got. Coach Stanley and the rest of the team had their hands full with them.

“Excuse me if I don't have too much sympathy,” Sadie said with a smile. “Three hot ruck boys. Phew, Chels.” She fanned herself with her hand. “Can you introduce me to some of them?”

“When are you short of attention from men?” I asked.

She was absolutely gorgeous. Wherever she went, she caught their eyes. She only had to snap her fingers and they'd come running.

“Never three at once,” she argued. “You're my hero right now.” She sipped her coffee while the breeze off the bay ruffled her hair.

The day was chilly, but the outdoor section of the café was the perfect place to talk without being overheard. “So, what's the plan?”

“What plan?” I poked my cheesecake with my fork.

“Do you have a future with any of them?” she pressed, as if I was deliberately being obtuse. “Are you going to settle down some day and become a rugby wife?”

“I have no idea,” I said. “I'm not sure if I could pick between them. I'm not even sure they'd let me.”

“Am I sensing some possessive vibes?” Her expression went from slightly envious, to slightly concerned. “Do we need an intervention? Or a new identity?”

I cocked my head at her and made a face. “No and no. It's nothing I can't handle.”

“So to speak,” she said with a grin. “It sounds like a lot of handling took place.”

I rolled my eyes at her, but smiled. I'd told her about my date and the night at Storm's place, telling her I'd fucked all three of them several times. Beyond that, I hadn't gone into specific detail.

“You're not denying it,” she pointed out. “What are they like? I bet they're huge. They look like guys who'd have big dicks.”

“I'm not sure they'd appreciate me discussing their penis size,” I said. They probably wouldn't care, but I wasn't going to anyway. She wasn't at Flirts on the night Dallas fucked me in front of everyone else, or she would have seen for herself. Since that part of my life was over, she was out of luck.

She pouted playfully. “How am I supposed to live vicariously through you when you won't give me the details?”

“How about you live your own life?” I suggested. “I bet you wouldn't have trouble finding three guys who wanted to have fun with you.”

She shrugged. “I guess so, but would they be professional athletes?”

I caught sight of movement behind her shoulder and pressed my lips together.

“What is it?” Sadie looked over her shoulder.

“More of a who than a what,” I said.

It could be a coincidence that Belinda Simmons happened to be in the same café as us. It was probably not a coincidence that she chose a table where she could see me and possibly hear what I was saying.

“Friend of yours?” Sadie turned back around.

“Definitely not,” I said. I briefly told her about the paparazzo following us to the restaurant, and the conversation outside the door.

“Yuck,” Sadie said. “I mean, I read those kinds of magazines, but it's not fun when they're talking about you.”

“Says the woman who, moments ago, wanted to live vicariously through me,” I said, my voice low.

“That's exactly my point,” she replied. “I want to keep that to myself. It's one thing for me to fantasise about the things you do, but not the rest of the world.” She grinned around the rim of her mug before taking a sip.

“Never say that again,” I said, slightly pained. “That you fantasise about anything I do.”

“Sorry, not sorry,” she laughed. “I guess I'm not getting any more salacious details.”

“I'm regretting saying as much as I did,” I said ruefully. “But certainly not in front of her.”

I nodded towards Belinda. I wanted her to know I'd seen her sit down, and wasn't happy about it. If she thought stalking me would get her anywhere, she better think again.

As if that was her cue, Belinda stood and walked over to us, her heels clicking on the concrete. Her hips swung like she wanted everyone to notice her.

“How nice to see you again,” she gushed, her smile as fake as fuck. “How was your dinner the other night? I hear Henrietta's is exceptional.”

“It was fine,” I said. I returned her fake smile. We both knew she may never find out what the food there was like. That was definitely not my problem. If I was petty, I'd be happy she was missing out.

She gave me a dismissive wave of her hand. “I'm sure it was more than fine. Especially with such fascinating company.” She leaned down, palms on the table top, displaying her cleavage. “If you wanted to talk to me about them, I could make it worth your while.”

“Thank you, but I'm not interested in women,” I said, pretending to misunderstand. “And if I was, my friend here would be first in line.”

“I would?” Sadie sat up taller and grinned like a kid who was offered a gold star. “I mean, of course I would, I'm amazing.” She pretended to fluff her red hair. She was no more interested in me that way than I was in her, but neither of us could resist trying to get a rise out of the paparazzo.

Belinda scowled at her obvious sarcasm and my, also obvious, attempt to be obtuse. She straightened up and crossed her arms under her breasts. “I was referring to money. I don't need to resort to sex in order to do my job.”

Was she trying to imply that I did? The desire to scratch her eyes out was becoming stronger.

Sadie laughed. “I bet you do. Or at least, I bet you would if you could get a story that would make you millions. Who wouldn't? Sometimes a girl has to do what a girl has to do, right Chels?”

I winced. Until now, Belinda didn't know my name. Now she did, it might be that much easier for her to figure out exactly who I was.

“I'm sure Melinda wouldn't do anything like that,” I said, pretending I couldn't remember her name.

“Belinda,” she said from behind clenched teeth. “Of course I wouldn't, thank you Chels.”

Sadie winced, realising her mistake too late. “So anyway, unless you wanted something, we were having a private conversation. Sooo sorry.” She smirked.

Belinda smirked back and returned her attention to me. “Think about it. One story that captures the public interest could make us both a lot of money. You could become famous.”

“I don't want to be famous,” I said. “That's actually the point. That and, if I had anything juicy on any of them, I wouldn't tell you. You can come sniffing around all you like, but you won't find anything here.”

“See…” She drew out the word. “I don't believe you. I know a good story when I see one and you, dear, are it.”

“Are you old enough to call her dear?” Sadie squinted at Belinda. “Next thing, you'll be calling her pet.”

I grimaced. “I'm no one's pet.” Although, doggy style was one of my favourite positions. And Storm's.

“Of course you're not.” Sadie leaned over to pat my hand. I thought she might make a pussy joke, but for once she didn't. Knowing her, she'd hold onto it until after Belinda was gone. If she'd leave us alone.

“Which one of them are you sleeping with?” Belinda asked, obviously trying to take me by surprise.

Since it was such an obvious question, I was ready for it. Even if I wasn't, I'd fielded questions like that for the last couple of years, as a dancer at Flirts. New customers always wanted to ask about the famous ones, they couldn't seem to help themselves. They wanted to be the guy who fucked the woman who fucked an Oscar winner. It was a strange ambition, but here we were.

“Who says I'm sleeping with one of them?” I asked sweetly. Not much sleep happened, but all three of them were involved, not just one.

“My journalist senses,” Belinda said. “Like I said, I can see a story from a mile away. Why wouldn't you be sleeping with an attractive, single rugby player?”

“I think you're projecting,” Sadie said. “How many rugby players have rejected your advances?”

Belinda ignored her.

“I know this is wild,” I said slowly. “But it's possible for men and women to interact without sex involved.”

Okay, I felt like a massive hypocrite for saying that. So much of my life revolved around sex. It had for a long time. But it was also true that I'd interacted with lots of men and we hadn't touched, much less anything else.

“I know it's possible,” Belinda said. “But in this case, I know you're sleeping with one of them. “If you just tell me?—”

“Hell would freeze over before I told you anything like that,” I snapped. She was pushing me to the edge of my last nerve, and she was doing it on purpose. I knew that, but I couldn't seem to contain my irritation any longer. She was trying to get me to reveal something out of frustration, or anger.

She smiled. The kind of look that suggested I'd confided all my secrets to her. “That was what I thought.”

“I'm surprised you're capable of thinking,” Sadie muttered.

“Whatever you think you know—” I started.

“You'll read about it in the morning,” she said. “Thank you, this has been very informative. It's a shame you didn't want to share in the money I'll be making from this.” She looked incredibly smug. Nodding to me, then to Sadie, she backed away and left.

“She's bluffing,” Sadie said. “She can't possibly have learnt anything from what you said.”

I picked up my spoon and stabbed it into the cheesecake, leaving it standing vertically. “She might not be, but maybe she picked up on something I said accidentally. People like her are?—”

“Full of shit,” Sadie finished for me. “If she says anything about you, it'll be made up. Then you can make a lot of money by suing her ass.”

Or she might publish something that made me lose my job.