Page 9 of Irreplaceable

CHAPTERTHREE

Harper glanced around the living room, her mouth agape. I could imagine putting that mouth to good use, but at the moment, I was more concerned with her ankle.

“This is…” Her eyes widened, and I tried not to laugh as I carried her across the tile floor.

“You like it?” I asked, her reaction both surprising and refreshing. As was my body’s response to her. She felt so good in my arms, and my skin tingled where we touched.

“Are you kidding? It’s incredible. This is yours?”

I smirked, reluctantly placing her on one of the plush couches overlooking the pool before taking a seat nearby. The water glowed from beneath the surface, large clear floats bobbing like giant bubbles. I wanted to give her the best view. Not that Mizuki House had a bad view. Whether you were on the ground floor or gazing out from one of the many decks, the scenery was phenomenal.

“For a little while longer, yes.”

I’d been in Bali for several weeks, extending my stay again and again. Part of it was my desire to avoid my problems—the press—back home. But a bigger part was the sense of peace I felt here.

No one knew me. I was able to wander around without fear of someone photographing my every move, stopping me for an autograph. I hadn’t felt this sort of freedom since before I’d signed on with Milan FC all those years ago. And I wanted to enjoy it for as long as possible.

One of my favorite things was hanging out with the local kids. They were so pure and fun. Experiencing their joy for the sport was contagious. And it was a reminder of why I loved the game. I’d lost sight of that lately—I’d been trying to suppress too much pain. And it had been sucking even more out of me than I’d realized.

I wasn’t eager to return to Italy or my problems there. An ex that was still struggling with our breakup. The press that was eager to see me stumble. A team that doubted my abilities to play at the level I had been. At the level expected of me.

Apart from a few text exchanges with my agent, Val, and a few calls from my mother, I’d been left blissfully alone. I had nowhere to be, no obligations. And I hadn’t realized how utterly exhausted I was until I’d come here. Until I’d just stopped.

I was still working out daily, but I was also getting more massages. Taking walks on the beach. Enjoying the scenery. My assistant, Nico, had knocked it out of the park with this property.

Koming approached and handed a bag of ice to Harper before addressing me. “The doctor will be here soon. May I get you anything else?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“Thank you, Koming.” I turned to Harper. “Would you like a drink? Something to eat, perhaps?”

“We can make anything you like,” Koming said to Harper almost eagerly. “Anything at all.”

“Could I have a glass of water, please?”

What was it about this woman? She’d captivated me from the moment I’d discovered her sitting on the ground, dust coating her skin. Her green eyes had peered up at me, full of strength. And I’d seen even more of that determination and stubbornness from her in the car. It was sexy.

Koming nodded. “Of course. It would be my pleasure.”

“Thank you, Koming,” Harper said.

“And you, sir?” Koming addressed me.

I shook my head. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

The waves crashed against the cliffs, and I draped my arm over the back of the sofa. “So, Harper, what are you doing in Bali?”

“I’m a film location scout.” She ran a hand through her hair. It was a beautiful shade of chestnut and fell in waves that caressed her shoulders.

I nodded, though I couldn’t stop staring. I’d never felt such a strong pull to a woman, and I wanted to know why. “What does that entail?”

“Lots of travel. Negotiation. Research. Photography.” She seemed to light up when she talked about her work, especially the photography.

“Photography?” I asked as Koming delivered Harper’s drink, then disappeared again.

Harper smiled but then winced as she bent forward to adjust the ice on her ankle, her movements graceful like a ballerina. She had the body of a dancer—long and lean, with a flat stomach and small breasts. Her forest-green linen shorts showed off her olive skin, her tank top dipping low on her chest. Her nipples pebbled against the fabric. I wondered what it would be like to touch them, lick them.

She arched an eyebrow, and I knew I’d been caught checking her out. “Yes. I’m the production team’s eyes and ears, so I tend to take a lot of photos to give them an immersive experience.”

She explained some more, and I nodded, intrigued by her job, by her. She was passionate and smart. Determined. “And that’s what you were doing tonight?”