Page 43 of Irreplaceable

CHAPTERTEN

“Would you like a drink, sir?” a passing waiter stopped and asked.

I shook my head and thanked him, returning my attention to the hotel ballroom. The colors of Los Angeles’s major league sports teams were splashed across the tables, and athletes and celebrities paraded around the room. I’d been invited to attend by the LA Leatherbacks—the soccer team that had offered a generous sum for me to transfer from Milan FC. A move I was still debating, though I wouldn’t have much longer to decide.

The contract was for a little over a year. They wanted me to join them this season and finish out the next one. And then we’d have the option to renew.

What would Dad have thought?

Despite his insistence that I learn English, he’d always instilled pride in our Italian heritage. I’d only ever played for an Italian team. I’d even played for the Italian national team in several World Cups, but we hadn’t won.

And that had always been a dream of ours—winning the World Cup. It was still a dream, though the window for accomplishing it was closing. I was thirty-eight, and this year’s cup was probably the last chance I’d have.

I worried that transferring to the Leatherbacks would hurt my chances of being selected for the Italian national team. That said, the move to LA would give me more exposure. More field time. And considering the short-term nature of the contract and the fact that I was nearing retirement age, I felt honored that the Leatherbacks were so intent to have me join their team.

I just hoped Dad wouldn’t see it as a failure.

I let out a sigh. I needed to focus on the event, not that I was doing a very good job of it at the moment. I was so distracted, I could barely remember my reasons for attending. Though that was nothing new. Ever since returning from Bali almost three months ago, my focus had been shit.

I glanced at my phone, unable to stop myself from checking Harper’s Instagram feed. It was something I’d done regularly since returning from Bali, but especially the past few days upon arriving in LA. I was being courted by the LA Leatherbacks, but Harper was all I could think about. The more time that passed, the more I was convinced that she’d been telling the truth.

She’d posted some photos from our trip, though none of me. They were all of the scenery or the pool at Mizuki House, but nothing that would give away my identity. Since Bali, she’d shared a few pictures of a fishing town I couldn’t place. Ocean views and terra-cotta roofs. And more recently, there had been a few photos of brunch food, some street art I assumed was in LA, but after that…nothing. Nothing for almost a month.

If Harper was going to post something about me, wouldn’t she have done it by now?

I’d taken her SD card, but I’d been so irate, I hadn’t considered the possibility of pictures on her phone until after she’d left. Nearly three months had passed, and she hadn’t shared any, which meant she either wasn’t planning to or she’d never had any in the first place. Either way, I was coming to realize I’d made a terrible mistake.

Desperate for more, I’d taken to scanning her entire feed. I’d done it so often, I’d practically memorized the images. Pictures of her smiling with those green eyes that had captivated me. Harper standing on a yacht with some friends. A white bikini showcasing that gorgeous body that made my mouth water.

I told myself I was doing it out of self-preservation, but my curiosity had turned into a sick obsession. I checked her feed almost daily, just as I was now.

I let out a deep sigh. I did not want to start the season like this. I needed to rid myself of distractions. That was why I’d gone to Bali in the first place—to clear my head and get away from it all.

And then I’d met Harper, and she’d given me a taste of freedom unlike any other. She’d acted like she had no idea who I was. Maybe she really didn’t. I wanted to believe it was true—both in Bali and since. But then again, Giada had lied to me repeatedly, and I’d never suspected it.

“Lorenzo,” a man’s voice boomed. I slid my phone into my pocket and glanced up to find Knox Crawford, the owner of the LA Leatherbacks, approaching me with a smile on his face. “There are a few people I’d like you to meet.”

“Of course.” We shook hands, and I followed him over to where a small group had congregated.

“I’m glad you decided to take me up on my offer to check out the city and the team,” he said before we joined the others. “The transfer window is closing soon. We’d be thrilled to have you join us. We’re always looking to bring in new talent, especially of your caliber.”

The final decision rested with me, but I was under an immense amount of pressure to make the switch. After transferring to Milan FC a few years into my career, I’d spent the bulk of my time with them. I’d never considered transferring again, at least not until this opportunity had come along.

The negotiated transfer fee was sixteen million dollars, one of the highest sums in Major League Soccer. Considering my age and a chronic injury that had been flaring up since last season, I was lucky.

Fortunately, everyone was more focused on the potential transfer—and not just in Italy and LA. All over the world, people weighed in on whether I should make the switch, sometimes with very heated comments. I tried to ignore all the chatter, but it had been so loud lately it was nearly impossible.

“Thank you. I—” I froze.

A woman with chestnut hair stood out from the crowd, her bee-stung lips parted in a smile as she talked with a tall blonde in killer heels. I blinked a few times, positive I was dreaming. But there she stood, laughing.

Harper.

My attention was glued to her like the ball in a final game. This had to be a sign—her being here.

I scanned her body, drinking her in. She wore a flowy green dress that perfectly matched the color of her eyes. Those beguiling green eyes had been my downfall.

The dress was fitted through the chest before flaring over her hips. She looked radiant. And her tits were… My mouth went dry. Had they always been that full?