Page 1 of Forbidden Billionaires: Vol. 10

Saturday

Alina

My team USA tank top clung to my skin as Kristen and I pushed through the hot, sticky air on our way to the practice arena. We had been blessed with unseasonably cool weather for the first week of the games, but today we were finally getting a taste of the infamous Brazilian humidity.

"So how many do you think we'll see today?" asked Kristen.

"I'm guessing three," I said.

"Less than yesterday? Even though more people are finished with their events?"

"Yeah. It's too hot to be doing that outside. What's your guess?"

"I'll say four."

"You're on."

"Well, I think I already see one." Kristen pointed up to the third-floor balcony of one of the skyscrapers that had been built specifically to house all of the athletes for the games.

A girl was leaning over the railing. Anywhere else it would have just looked like she was enjoying the view, but in the athletes' village, we had to suspect that something else might be occurring.

We took a few steps away from the building to try to get a better view.

"I dunno, I'm not sure if..." I started. Just then, someone from behind the girl reached around and grabbed her breasts over her shirt. She opened her mouth in a way that could only mean one thing was happening. "Okay, yup. They're having sex."

"That's one," said Kristen.

"How is that girl okay with that? It's so awkward. Anyone walking by can see them."

"Oh come on. Don't pretend like you wouldn't enjoy that."

"Um, no. I'm actually kind of glad that our final game is on the second to last day. Otherwise I'm pretty sure Chris would have tried to make me do something like that."

"Better not let Coach Hammond hear you talking that way."

"I don't think it's any of her business if Chris is into public sex!"

Kristen laughed. "I meant the part about our final game."

"Oh, right. Well what are the odds that we don't make it that far?

" Everything was setup perfectly for us to make it to the final.

The volleyball portion of the International Tournament of Athletes consisted of two groups of six teams each.

For each group, every team would play every other team one time, and at the end of those games, the four teams with the best records in each group would move on to the quarterfinals.

We had played four out of our five group games and won all of them, meaning we were guaranteed to finish in the top four and advance to the quarterfinals.

Brazil, on the other hand, who had been considered favorites to win gold, had lost three out of four of their games.

Their fifth and final group game was against us, and if we beat them, they'd be eliminated.

From there it would be a cake-walk to the gold medal podium.

"I actually think Coach is right on this. We shouldn't get too cocky." Kristen stopped and pointed to a girl kneeling in front of a muscular guy in an alleyway between two dorms. "Speaking of getting cocky..."

"Ew, gross pun."

"That's two. And we're not even halfway there. Looks like I'm going to win."

"Good thing we forgot to specify what the loser's punishment would be today.

" The first few days we had played we had just been counting for fun, but yesterday we kicked it up a notch by saying the loser had to post a picture on their Instagram of the winner's choosing.

My Instagram account now featured a selfie of me making a platypus face. Thanks, Kristen.

"Any ideas?" asked Kristen.

I looked around to try to come up with a punishment that wouldn't be too horrible. A group of beautiful, shirtless men were walking towards us with bags of McDonald's. "Maybe the loser should have to buy dinner."

"All the food here is free."

"I know." It was the perfect punishment since I was almost certainly going to lose the bet.

"Nice try. But I think we should have higher stakes. What if the loser has to participate in the very activity we're betting on?"

"Have sex in public?" I asked.

"Yeah."

Of course Kristen would suggest that. "Hmmm..."

"Wait, are you actually considering that?"

"No, of course not," I said, laughing it off. Shit, am I really considering it?

"Oh my God, you totally are." Kristen's face lit up in a way I knew all too well.

I saw the same face every time I had come back to our dorm room after a long night out with Chris.

Even though she hated him and wanted me to date someone else, she still loved making me dish on all the juicy details of our dates.

She was not a strong proponent of the old saying that a lady never kisses and tells.

"Well we haven't been allowed to have sex for four freaking weeks!

God, I'm so tired of Coach's stupid sex ban.

It's like these games are designed to make people crazy horny.

They take the most physically fit people in the world, put them all in coed dorms, and then all the coaches tell us we can't have sex until we're done competing.

Not to mention there's an unlimited supply of free condoms."

"You don't have to tell me. I can't wait for our competition to be over so I can have some fun. The guys here are all so hot."

"But it's so awkward to do that in public!"

"Yeah, but it's not really in public. It's more like doing it in the middle of a frat party that only accepts the best looking guys in the world who aren't total douches."

"So not like a frat party at all?" I asked.

"Okay, fine," said Kristen. "That's kind of a bad comparison. But you get the point."

"So if you lost the bet, you really wouldn't mind having sex out in the open?" Would I? The idea is kind of enticing... God, what is this sex ban doing to my brain? Get a grip, Alina!

Kristen shook her head. "Nope. So it's settled then? The loser has to have sex in public after our final game."

"Whoa! I never said I agreed to it, I was just saying that I understand why they're doing it."

"It sure sounded a lot like a yes to me."

"It wasn't." I need to change the topic immediately.

I looked around for something to distract her.

The only thing I found was some tan brunette in a thong bikini lying out on a beach towel surrounded by three guys.

"If we hang around for a few minutes, that will probably be number three.

And maybe number four and five as well. Actually, we probably should discuss the rules on group sex.

Does it count as one per group? Or one per pair of guy and girl?

Or the total number of people in the orgy divided by two? "

"Wait, isn't that Gabriela Santos?" asked Kristen, ignoring what I thought was a very valid point that needed discussing, especially if the stakes were going to be so high.

Please don't be Gabriela Santos. I had been dreading seeing her ever since I stepped foot in Brazil.

When we got a little closer, I realized Kristen was right.

It was indeed Gabriela Santos, the star of the Brazilian volleyball team.

She was good, but she wasn't as amazing as the media made her out to be.

They just had a hard-on for her because she was gorgeous and had huge breasts.

And based on her current outfit, she wasn't afraid to flaunt them.

She also happened to be my arch nemesis. I thought I was finally getting over what she did to me, but I was wrong. The sight of her still made my blood boil.

"Yeah, that's definitely her," I said through a clenched jaw.

I took a deep breath to try to get rid of the lump that had formed in my throat and that uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"No wonder the Brazilians have sucked so bad this year.

They're more concerned with their tans than with practicing. "

"Fine with me."

My phone buzzed in my sports bra. I reached in and pulled it out. It had gotten disgustingly sweaty in my cleavage. I made a mental note to find a better way of carrying it. Perhaps I needed to invest in a super stylish fanny pack.

"What's up?" asked Kristen.

I looked at the screen and read the message from my boyfriend, Chris: "Hey babe, you watching?"

"Shit, Chris' race is in five minutes." I typed out a response to let him know I was watching.

"What's the big deal?" asked Kristen. "Just watch it on your phone while we walk."

I shook my head. "This stupid phone won't stream video unless I'm connected to wifi. I'm just gonna run the rest of the way to the arena. See ya there!"

Before Kristen could respond, I stuck my phone back in my sweaty cleavage and took off. I wanted to catch Chris' race, but I also didn't want to have to see Gabriela for one more second. I hated how just seeing her took me right back. Screw her.

On the way, I passed three more couples having sex. Oh well. I'll tell Kristen that I didn't see any. I certainly wasn't going to admit that I lost the bet and get forced into having sex in public.

When I finally got to the arena, I sat down on a bench outside the locker rooms, connected to the arena wifi, and pulled up the broadcast on my phone.

The familiar face of Owen Harris popped up on my screen.

It was the summer before my freshman year of high school eight years ago when Owen Harris landed the job of being the anchor for the broadcast of the International Tournament of Athletes.

My friends and I all had the biggest crush on him with his dimples and deep brown eyes.

My parents had no idea why I got so interested in sports that summer, but as a result, I signed up for the volleyball team at my high school.

I had been playing since I was a kid, but had never taken it that seriously.

It turned out that once I focused hard I was pretty good at it, and now here I was representing the US at the ITAs.

I refocused my attention back on the broadcast. Owen Harris was in the studio relaxing in a comfy looking armchair talking about the day's events so far. Shit, did I miss it already?