Chapter 41: Ophelia

Chapter 41: Ophelia

I’m exhausted, but in the best possible way.

If you’ve never spent two days in a hotel room with a professional athlete, let me tell you, five out of five stars, highly recommend. Will do it again.

And again.

And again.

In fact, some of what we did was so magical that I want to write about it. Not like the actual details, but some of the sensations, definitely. Who needs to invent your own spice when you have a real-life Adonis showing you things you didn’t know your body could even do?

Xavier is going to get something to eat. We’ve lived on room service for the past two days, and I really wanted bagels this morning. Xavier agreed that we needed some carbs to replenish our energy.

Swoon.

I pull out my laptop and plug it in. Without distracting myself with the internet, I open my book document and continue typing. The words flow fast and free, and my face burns with the memories of the things we did and the passion we shared.

I have to stop and fan myself more than once. Who am I? I don’t even know anymore. I might have to add another item to the list of things you should know about me. I’m Ophelia, and I love kinky hot sex with my husband.

Perhaps that’s not something I should share on a LinkedIn profile or even ClikClak.

ClikClak.

Shit. I should probably update my profile to indicate my actual profession. This might need a video to clear it up that I’m a boring accountant, not a sex worker one.

I haven’t thought of that app since the whole debacle at my brother’s house. I push the events of that day out of my mind until I finish my steaming hot love scene. After running it through a grammar program to check for errors, I’m content that it’s enough to leave my readers hot and bothered, wanting to come back for more. I upload it to Wattpad and check the views on my project.

It’s number forty-five in the romance category with over twenty-five thousand views. How? Why? It’s not even done yet. I only ever mentioned it on ClikClak that once.

My mouth goes dry.

I need to figure out what I’m doing here. This … could be huge. I could be one of those indie authors who hits a homerun on their debut novel and a career is made.

It’s already tearing up Wattpad, and I haven’t really even started talking about it on ClikClak. Quickly, I run to the bathroom, brush my hair, and put on makeup. I record a video on my phone, so I can post it to Instagram as well when it’s done.

Hi everyone! Sorry, I’ve been on a little social media break. I’ve been … busy with some other projects. I just put the hottest chapter ever up on Wattpad. Check out Stolen Stars by Lia Finn. Kisses and hugs!

I add my hashtags, including #XOXO and #StolenStars. At the last minute, I add #LiaInLove.

I am. I know I am.

It’s what’s made the last two days so incredibly magical. I’ve never felt this kind of earth-shattering connection with someone before. Does he feel it too?

He must. This can’t be a one-sided thing. There’s too much here for him not to have some sort of feelings.

We’ve definitely progressed from a fake marriage to something more.

So, I sit there in bed, clad only in Xavier’s T-shirt, grinning like an idiot. Things are actually falling into place for me. Back in October, when my first video went viral, I had no idea the path my life would take me on.

It’s been a whirlwind, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Now I just have to convince Xavier that we’re worth fighting for. We’ll figure out how to get him traded to Boston, and we’ll live happily ever after.

This hotel, charming and luxurious all at the same time, is the setting for our grand finale, closing credit music over our laughing yet passionate embrace.

Except the moment Xavier walks back into the room, I know we’re not there. Oh, we might be at the end all right, but there’s no happily ever coming after.

I close ClikClak instead of making my second video about not being a sex worker. I jump out of bed, tangling myself in the white sheets and duvet. "What’s wrong?"

He all but drops the cardboard drink carrier on the desk, coffee sloshing over onto the glass-topped cherry surface. He lets the bag of bagels drop as well. Xavier doesn’t turn and look at me. Instead, he stares out the window, hands balled into fists at his side.

I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours exploring every inch and nuance of his body, so it’s quite obvious that the tension and anger rolling off him in thick waves has something to do with me.

Gently I put my hands on his shoulders. He still doesn’t turn to look at me. Ever so slightly, he shrugs me off.

Message received.

But I don’t know why.

"Xavier, what’s wrong?" I ask again. "Did something happen with Tony or the trade? Whatever it is, I’m sure we can figure it out."

He shakes his head almost imperceptibly. "No, we won’t. There is no we."

I suck in a gasp, his words slicing through me like a razor. I put my hands back on his shoulders and try to turn him to face me. "Xavier, look at me. Xavier, tell me what’s going on."

"God, I’m such a fool. You must all see it. Do I have a bloody fucking target on my head? Do I have a tattoo on my back that reads ’world’s most gullible eejit’ or something? First Tony, then you. Or perhaps it was you, and then Tony. Hell, for all I know, the two of you are thick as thieves and working together to ruin me. Jesus, did Edmund Jones put you up to this? Some elaborate plan to ruin me? He’s always been good at playing a long game. I thought you were different. I thought I could trust you."

I’m totally lost as to what he is ranting about. I’ve never seen this side of him, not even the night he found out that Tony screwed him over. "Xavier, I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"No, of course not. You don’t know anything about lying to me about what you do."

If he believes that whole "an accountant is a sex worker" bullshit, I’m going to scream. "Come on. You know I’m an accountant. You said it yourself. You’ve seen my spreadsheets."

He turns, glaring. His eyes are cold and hard, like blue ice. "But that’s not all you do, is it?"

I open my mouth to defend myself and then immediately close it. Weakly, I offer in defense, "It’s all I get paid to do."

"Fucking hell, Ophelia. Or should I say Lia? Lia Finn, is it?"

He knows. He knows about the book.

Oh God, I just wrote the smuttiest chapter ever, and he knows.

I might be sick.

"Xavier, let me explain." I hold up my hands. He’s got to hear me out.

"One thing. That’s all I had to do was one thing—stay out of trouble. Keep my nose clean. Avoid scandal."

I’m not following him. "What does my writing have to do with you?" I mean other than the obvious not-safe-for-work content and candid descriptions of the male member, possibly inspired by the one I’m so intimately acquainted with. It really is a sight to behold.

Focus, Ophelia.

Xavier whips out his phone and pulls up a screen. "I don’t even know how you orchestrated this. Diabolical, really. And the best part is, I didn’t see it coming at all. You blindsided me with it. Well done."

I take the phone from him, unsure of what he’s accusing me of.

It’s the ESPN site. I may not be a sporty person, but even I know what ESPN is. It didn’t occur to me where it’s located. Or that it would not be unfathomable that one of the guests at my brother’s house in West Hartford is employed there.

Specifically Dude Number One.

I know because his picture is next to his name on the byline. Chassen Donato. Douche name. Seems appropriate. I read the article aloud.

Curse of the Birds

Chassen Donato, reporting for ESPN.com

Some say birds are bad luck. USSL soccer player Xavier Henry would disagree. His family owns and runs Henry Hawkery in Avon County, England, where they provide rescue and rehabilitation for birds of prey, specifically owls, hawks, and falcons, according to the family website.

"This is good so far. Maybe it can get your family some business and attention."

"Keep reading," Xavier growls.

Folklore has it that birds, especially owls, can be bad luck. While Xavier Henry may disagree, it’s time for him to rethink his position.

Ouch.

Xavier was a rising star in England, named Defenseman of the Year in the British Football League in 2016. The same year, "Bird Man" was named to the BSL National Team, earning a starting spot representing England for the Global Games. You may not remember him from that stellar tournament in which the Brits came from behind to win the entire thing. That’s because the night before the team announcement, Xavier did the unthinkable.

The pit in my stomach plunges down to my toes as I read the recap of the accident and the accusation that Xavier was drunk driving and almost killed Phaedra Jones.

Since then, Xavier hasn’t been able to set a cleat on a British football pitch. Hiring super slick agent Anthony Bardolello, Xavier negotiated a position starting for the Baltimore Terrors in the USSL in 2017. As reported previously on this site, Anthony Bardolello is the sports agent accused of falsifying contracts, misrepresenting clients, and embezzling almost half a million dollars from his firm, Fast Feet, PLLC, before disappearing a month ago.

At the time of his disappearance, Bardolello was said to be working on a large trade deal with his number one client, Xavier Henry. Following the return to play after the COVID-19 hiatus year, the Baltimore Terrors had the worst record not only in their division but the entire USSL. Xavier Henry, said to be quite upset with the leadership and direction of Baltimore under owner Vincent Camacho and head coach Ted Masters, saw little playing time this past season.

However, because of his English citizenship, Xavier Henry isn’t eligible for trade until the international window in March. This is where it gets interesting and like something out of a tabloid or made-for-TV movie.

Enter viral ClikClak star, Ophelia Finnegan. You may know her by the handle @LovelyLia. She rose to social media notoriety in early October (pay attention to the timeline here, because it’s important), when she filmed a series of ClikClak videos in which she supposedly staged a surprise visit to her boyfriend, Trent Carlson, who, coincidentally, is the athletic trainer for the Baltimore Terrors. The #romanticsurprise hashtag went viral, propelling LovelyLia to internet fame. Other ClikClak videos from that same event show an interesting twist: the entire thing was recorded by none other than Xavier Henry. A mere week or so later, Ophelia Finnegan (LovelyLia’s real name) and Xavier Henry were posting together in Boston. About the same time, Xavier was spotted at a Boston Buzzards game and was rumored to be in trade negotiations with Buzzard’s owner, Robert Miller and former coach, Bjorn Janssen.

Throughout the article, words are hyperlinked. I don’t even need to click on them to know they will take the eager reader to our social media.

A mere three weeks after the #romanticsurprise viral video, another ClikClak video of Xavier Henry and Ophelia Finnegan surfaced, indicating that the couple is married. While this may not be a big deal in and of itself, Ophelia Finnegan, up to this point, had been publicly posting about her career as an ’accountant’ and asking the whole of ClikClak to set her up on dates. Due to content restrictions on the app, users on ClikClak will substitute terms so posts don’t get flagged for violating community standards. A well-known substitution is to use the profession of accountant in place of sex worker.

I have to put my hand over my mouth to avoid throwing up.

It appears that Ms. Finnegan, or should we say, Mrs. Henry, conspired to commit fraud against the United States government in an erroneous attempt to help Xavier Henry gain accelerated citizenship. Financial details of this arrangement have not yet been disclosed, but Ms. Finnegan’s family knew nothing of the relationship or the marriage.

However, candid, sordid, and sexually graphic details are available from Ms. Finnegan’s own hand. Writing under the nom de plume of "Lia Finn," Ms. Finnegan is publishing serial chapters to her forthcoming novel, Stolen Stars, on the Wattpad website. She has made ClikClak videos about her debut smutty novel, which is basically mommy porn.

Vincent Camacho, Baltimore Terror’s owner, said he’s "very disappointed in the actions and associations Mr. Henry has chosen to align himself with, including Mr. Bardolello and Ms. Finnegan." Boston Buzzard’s owner, Robert Miller, declined to comment other than, "Mr. Henry is not on our roster, and he has no formal business dealings with the Boston Buzzards."

I can’t even finish the closing paragraphs. I run to the bathroom and vomit the bile in my stomach.

I’ve ruined Xavier’s last chance.