Chapter 3 Loverboy Overnight
SLOANE'S POV
"Sign these, Sloane."
Elena tapped the area requiring my signature with a pen.
Somehow, I was accepting being part of this deal.
"Good. Now, Amaya will take you to his house. I want the both of you to get acquainted so that we can kick off this deal."
"B-but he hasn't signed it yet." I argued.
"Leave that to me, Sloane." She smiled, pushing up from her seat.
On putty legs, I got up while she discussed with Amaya on the phone.
Shortly, Amaya—the lady who came into my hotel to whisk me away, appeared at the door.
"Come with me, Sloane." She instructed, leading me into the elevator and out into the parking lot.
A chauffeur threw the doors of the same Range Rover that brought me here open, and in no time, he was driving through towering palm trees. The neon glow of the sunset strip was very visible.
I hated fame for what it was worth, but the environment was beautiful.
"We're here to see Malik!" Amaya explained to the security men guarding the gates of his mansion.
He made a call, and in no time, the gates hissed open for the driver to go in.
"You have to give him some time to cool off. He can be really hot-headed sometimes, but he's a good person. I think he'll come around some time."
"But does he know we're here?" I asked, scared,
"It's not something you should be worried about, Sloane. Just focus on getting him on the same page with you." Amaya patted my back.
"What about my suitcase? I have my essentials in there?"
"Elena's working on getting it moved. You should have them here before tomorrow."
"Oh, I..."
"Take care of yourself, Sloane." She smiled at me, hopping right back into the car before the chauffeur hit reverse and drove out of the mansion.
I stood there, admiring the mansion. It looked like something that was straight out of a Pinterest board. I could work my entire life, and I would never make enough money to buy a house like this.
Stranded, I decided to give myself a tour of the exterior of the mansion. I sat on the lounge chair, looking at the massive infinity pool wrapped around the western edge. He had a beautiful garden as well.
At the patio, there was a half-eaten pack of Pringles and an iPhone lying idly on the table. I looked around, and that was when I heard the sound.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
I took my nosey self there, and that was when I saw the large basketball court.
It was perched on the right edge of a cliff, a perfect combination of asphalt and a high fence.
In there was Malik, drenched in sweat with a Lakers jersey on.
He stood behind the free throw line, bouncing the ball until he took his form, jumped and shot. He made the shot, but he didn't let up. He seemed very aggressive, as though something was on his mind.
All the while, I stood there, my mouth wide open because I had never seen anything as magnificent as this.
Immediately, I reached for my phone, typing the words Malik Cross in my search engine.
Immediately, results came.
Malik Zaheer Cross. Twenty-five years old. Power forward for the Los Angeles Lakers and the MVP for the previous season. Net worth: 250 million dollars.
My head was spinning.
I was three years older than Malik.
And he was richer than I ever will be.
My gaze went back to him as he ran around the court, bouncing the ball.
His heavily tattooed skin was glistening with sweat.
He ran straight for the basket, slamming the ball into it, his hands gripping the rim before he grunted loudly.
He turned around, and that was when our gazes clashed.
His gaze swept over me again, and I could not tell the emotion he held in his eyes.
"I'm happy you got your rom-com moment with me the other day, but can you please leave. Your five minutes of fame is over and I am not in need of a librarian." He spat, his feet planted where he stood.
I stood there, frozen.
I wasn’t used this to this.
Verbal exchange with men. Talk more of a man who was a foot taller than me.
The only man in my life was my boyfriend, Arthur.
I could do two things.
One: Chicken out like I always do, and run away from here.
Two: Walk up to Malik Cross and face him because, as much as we both hated to admit it, we needed each other.
Option one was easier, but I found myself marching up to where he stood.
“I already signed the agreement, you know. All that’s left is for you to sign it.”
“I don’t care what you’ve done. Go back to Elena and tell her I said I’m not interested.” He shrugged, turning around to back me to continue hooping.
I wasn’t going to have him ignore me again.
I walked to stand in front of him.
“Look, Malik, you can act like you don’t care for my presence, but I think we both know that 400 million dollars is a lot of mun-ney to lose over a stupid temper tantrum.” I spat. My British accent tended to come off a little harder whenever I was pissed.
Malik froze, looking into my eyes before he completely lost it, and a dark chuckle vibrated his chest.
“It’s sure is a lot of mun-ney.” He mocked.
Anger coursed through my veins, and I stepped closer to him.
“Fuck you.” I poked a finger at one tattooed arm.
His brows bunched up in shock.
“I didn’t know the word ‘fuck’ was in Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes’ dictionary.”
“It’s your need to constantly feed your ego by talking down on me. You think my reason for being in front of the Lakers’ complex yesterday had anything to do with wanting a moment with you? Bummer, Malik! Prior to all of this, I didn’t even know who the fuck you were.” I spat, taking a couple of steps away from him,
“I would have thanked you for saving my life, but right now, I’d rather be dead than go through with this.”
He was quiet.
Which was shocking because he always had something to say.
Determined to get the last say before walking away, I cleared my throat.
“Also, your need for validation is so predictable. You know a proper woman like me will never give someone like you the time of day, so you’d rather go for the blonde with big boobs and butts!”
I had barely taken two steps when I heard a familiar voice.
“Malik! Sloane!”
Was that… Elena?
She stepped into the court, her gaze bouncing between Malik and I as she tried to catch her breath.
“God, I almost lost my breath looking for you two.”
“Now, we’ve contacted Nike and have apologized for your bad behavior, Malik. They’ve seen the photo of yesterday and they’d like an interview with you tomorrow morning. I think this will be the best time to give a hint that you’ve found the perfect woman.”
Perfect woman my ass!
She observed the both of us again.
“Also, by tomorrow, you better not look like you both want to kill each other. Be a loving couple. Sloane, you can be shy. Malik, maybe touch her waist and try to steal kisses when she’s not looking. The fans would love to hear how the playboy turned into a lover boy overnight.”