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A laugh bursts out from me but her face doesn’t change. Her dark brows are pulled in ever so slightly, her eyes set on me and mouth completely relaxed. “I do. Sometimes I feel like I was born for this.”
She nods her head slowly, her attention drifting to the passing buildings outside the window. “I get that.”
“Do you enjoy what you do?” I feel like I already know the answer, she enjoys the lifestyle.
“I really do. A lot of people think it's something you get into because you're desperate but personally I lose myself when I’m on stage, like it’s performance art and I’m not me anymore. I also like the money." Her mouth curves into this cheeky smile and I don't think I've ever wanted to kiss someone more than I do right now. I don't just want to kiss her. I want to do a number of unspeakable things to her. “I obviously don’t want to do it forever, but I haven’t got that far. I’m just taking life one day at a time.” I can't relate to that at all, every move I make is planned and precise. I’m a strategist down to my very core, my life is mapped out tirelessly. I have my long-term goal and I'll do whatever I need to reach that. It’s the only reason me and my family are where we are today.
We drive on and she tells me all about her family and her childhood. She seems incredibly close to her twin. When she talks about him, she has this enthusiasm like he’s the centre of her universe. She is clearly very family orientated which makes me wonder the real reason she upped and left them all in London, there’s definitely more to that story.
We finally arrive at Madison Square Garden, slightly late but it doesn’t matter.
“The Knicks?” There's this hint of uneasiness in her voice that I don't understand but I ignore it because she looks excited. She's got a big smile on her face and her eyes are bright.
“I'm guessing you haven't picked a team yet so I'm taking the opportunity to get you onside early,” I say as we walk towards the entrance.
She purses her lips, shrugs her shoulders. “I was leaning towards the Lakers.”
I shake my head pausing to pin her with a look. “Absolutely not.” Raff’s a Lakers fan. I'm not having any more of them around me.
But she’s not going to be around me so, actually, it doesn’t matter.
Security let us straight through going around the metal detectors. They know who I am, technically I'm one of their biggest sponsors. And I don’t ever leave the house without my gun. You can never be too careful, especially as the situation with the Russians is amping up. She stops me outside one of the concession stands running off towards the merchandise and comes bouncing back with two Knicks hats. She grins at me reaching up on her toes to put the hat on my head backwards and I notice she’s got a light spattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks. I didn’t notice before but she’s closer now and in decent lighting for once. They look slightly out of place with her olive skin but it makes her look more innocent.
“We gotta look the part.” She says putting her own hat on. Of course she looks good in blue and orange. Why wouldn't she? I put my hand on her lower back, guiding her towards our courtside seats.
She accidentally bumps into some guy’s legs; she’s none the wiser but I see how his eyes fix on her ass as she continues walking, slowly trailing down her tanned legs. My chest heats up. If looks could kill he would be 6 feet under. Part of me wants to put him there. He meets my eyes and shrinks back in his seat.
Yeah, that’s right asshole.
I stop myself, turning away from him. Why do I care if men look at her? I just met the girl. No, it's not her. I’m just not good at sharing anything, no matter how little it means to me.
She's engrossed. She can't take her eyes off the court and I can't stop watching her. The way her eyes go wide and her lips part slightly. I'm thinking about what those lips would look like around a certain body part of mine. Something happens in the game and she jumps up clapping her hands, snapping me out of my dirty thoughts.
She turns to me “I don't think it will ever beat football but it's a close second.”
“You mean soccer?”
“No.” She says pointedly. “I mean football. What you guys call football is more like rugby except you all wear helmets for some strange reason.” I scoff a laugh and she nudges my leg with her own. “And if you're wondering, you support Arsenal.”
I shrug, turning back to the court. “I was leaning towards Tottenham.”
She crosses her arms, lip curling up slightly. “I mean if you want to support a team that hasn't won a trophy since 2008, it's your cross to bear.”
I chuckle, throwing my arm over the back of her seat and she glances at me. The corner of her mouth lifts slightly before she relaxes back into me.
The buzzer for halftime goes a while later and I stand needing to piss and also get a drink. Cas stands with me and I catch movement from the court as one of the players walks our way. Cameron, youngest player ever to sign with the NBA at eighteen. That was five years ago and he’s only just now hitting his prime. He just signed with the Knicks at the start of the season and I’ve not met him yet.
He’s not looking at me though, he’s looking at Casimira. Not that fond of the manner he’s looking at her but it’s not my problem. She finally notices him and she doesn’t school herself quick enough, her eyes widen a fraction before her face pulls into a polite smile. “Cas.” He says in a familiar tone that I like even less than the way he was looking at her.
“Hey, Cam. Good urm-“ She waves an errant hand towards the court. “Hoops out there?” Cam? Nicknames? I want to break his legs. Maybe smash a kneecap or two? Maybe I’ll just get him benched for the rest of the season.
Or maybe Enzo, you can just grow the fuck up.
He scoffs a laugh. “You should have texted and told me you were coming down.” Jesus Christ. Is the whole of New York's elite just pinning after this woman? Does she just attract wealthy men? I mean here I am, answering my own question.
She lets out a breezy laugh puts her hand on my arm and tilts her head to look up at me. “He surprised me.”
Cameron turns to me and my face doesn’t change from the blank mask I've perfected over the years. If I speak it’s not going to be pretty and there’s no reason for me not to be polite so, I shut my fucking mouth and don’t say a thing. Cas pulls on my arm. “We’re going to get a drink, good luck for the rest of it yeah?” I offer him a brief tilt of my chin and walk. Her arms still hanging off one of mine and I decide I like her there. “Is that what you say?” She says in a hushed voice. “Good luck for the rest of it?”
