Page 2 of The Tempo of Truth (The Monsters Duet #3)

I was twenty-two years old, one of the few American-born players who managed to break through into different international leagues.

I was weeks away from being a starting player on a Premier League team when it all disappeared under fierce accusations of gambling and match fixing.

It wasn’t just any run-of-the-mill gambling, but gambling against my own teams and games.

Currently, I was under a FIFA investigation for intentionally throwing games so I could bet heavily on the winning team and take home a windfall by stacking the odds in favor of the opposing team.

The stigma of gambling was already enough to tank my career.

When you added in the fact that I was dragging all the people who gave me a chance and boosted me up each time I fell into the muck and mire on my way to the top, fans of the sport were ready to convict me and condemn me before the investigation got started.

I was the most hated man who had ever stepped onto the pitch.

I was a pariah.

Even if my name were cleared, nobody would let me play for them. No team was ever going to trust me. There were zero fans who would dare support me.

The minute any team I was part of lost, even if it had nothing to do with me, I would be the scapegoat.

I’d forever carry the success and failure on my shoulders, even though it was a team sport.

I was a ready-made example of why it was so hard for foreigners to play on the international stage and the ideal lesson for up-and-coming players in what not to do.

My entire life had been building to this point, and now the hard-won opportunity was snatched away before I even got the chance to fight for it.

It was fitting that Winnie was here to witness me losing everything that mattered to me. My fucked-up karma meant she obviously needed to have front-row seats to my downfall. Honestly, no one deserved it more.

I gestured for a refill and something stronger. The lukewarm beer sat heavily in my gut and wasn’t giving quite the burn I needed to forget everything.

We sat in silence until the round arrived.

I blinked in surprise when Winnie reached for the whiskey and tossed it back like a pro.

This was a far cry from drinking out of expensive crystal and sipping high-end booze that ran hundreds of dollars per sip on a private jet.

However, she didn’t even flinch and ordered another one before I even picked up my pint glass.

“What are you doing here, Winnie? I’m sure the heiress to Halliday Inc.

has better things to do than play fangirl to a washed-up soccer player.

” I lifted my eyebrows and smirked in her direction.

“Or did you rush to Lisbon the second you heard I was under investigation? Are you here to grease the wheels of justice? Those figureheads at FIFA have a history of going wherever the money guides them.” It was nonsense.

Once the gambling came to light, and the clear proof I was losing games on purpose was put in front of me, I knew my career was over, regardless of what the head of the organization found while investigating me.

I would be lucky if I didn’t end up in a European jail when it was all said and done.

None of my current bad choices had anything to do with Winnie Halliday.

“Should I be honored that someone like you sees me as the villain in their life?” Her delicate features shifted into an expression of disbelief. “That’s not a role I ever envisioned for myself, but I like it. Villains seem to have more fun than anyone else—at least until someone stops them.”

I swallowed a mouthful of beer and glared at her over the rim of the glass. I was too inebriated to go toe to toe with her verbally.

This version of Winnie Halliday was sharper, tougher, and more cunning than the teenage girl from my memories.

She still screamed cultured refinement with every movement, but the invisible barrier I always imagined between us no longer seemed to be as impenetrable as it once was.

Somewhere along the way, Winnie Halliday became more human and less like an antique porcelain doll.

She was no longer on a shelf collecting dust. She was out in the real world, risking cracks and breaks just like the rest of us.

“If I show you a real fun time, will you go the fuck away? I never want to see you again, Winnie. I can’t stress enough how much I regret getting mixed up with the Hallidays back then.

” I approached them with ulterior motives when I thought Win Halliday was going to use any means necessary to separate me from my mother.

I learned the hard way that a Halliday never suffered fools lightly.

I was digging my own grave and didn’t even know it.

Perfectly manicured fingernails tapped on the table, and her rust-colored eyebrows raised mockingly. “Do you think you’re capable of showing anyone anything? Look at the state you’re in, Ky. You’ve never looked worse.”

I snorted and involuntarily nudged the pint glass out of the way. “I’m a professional athlete. I can perform under any conditions.”

“You were a professional athlete. Now, you’re just a messy drunk who is feeling sorry for himself, even though you created this situation with your own two hands. You don’t have much to offer, Ky. You never did.”

It was my turn to scoff. “Is that why you’ve been chasing me all over hell and back for so many years? Because I have nothing to offer?”

Her pale cheeks flooded with color, and her teeth bit into her lower lip nervously. Her hazel eyes held a million different colors and just as many secrets. I shouldn’t be surprised she learned how to be dishonest, but I was admittedly uneasy when she lied directly to my face.

“Whoever you saw wasn’t me. Do you think my Uncle Win would let me trail after you like a stray dog? You have to know that Hallidays are required to have more decorum than that.”

She slipped back into the role of entitled heiress so effortlessly that I nearly forgot she showed up in this out-of-the-way pub when she was supposed to be attending classes at her college in Spain.

I was here because I wanted to drink until I forgot what was happening to my career and lick my wounds where no one was likely to recognize me.

I’d never been in this establishment before, so there was absolutely no reason for Winnie to show up here out of the blue.

I staggered to my feet, accidentally bumped the table, and sent the half-full pint of beer flying.

The bartender yelled at me in Portuguese while Winnie apologized and reached out to grab my arm as I stumbled.

She was soft, and she smelled good. It was impossible to keep myself from leaning my weight against her as she paid the bill and did her best to drag me out of the pub.

I belatedly noticed there were plenty of lush female curves pressed against me.

She was no longer too skinny and starved for more than affection.

I let her guide me to a sleek, black car.

I didn’t bother asking her where we were going.

My place in the city center was out of the question since sports media and gossip reporters from different tabloids were likely surrounding it.

They’d been like vultures since the news broke.

I knew they were waiting for a glimpse of me looking downtrodden and woeful.

I knew that I would never be repentant enough for those who called for my head.

It’d been a little over a week since I’d been dismissed, and the fervor hadn’t died down at all.

Winnie’s family made its fortune in real estate development, and one of her uncles was involved with hotel and resort planning.

It wasn’t worth asking if the Hallidays owned property somewhere on the Iberian Peninsula; I just assumed they did.

Her family’s reach was endless. I knew that before making a deal with her uncle to disappear, but I’d forgotten how hard it was to wiggle out of the grasp of someone who held the world in their hands.

Winnie and I didn’t speak on the ride to the luxury condominium complex.

I kept my eyes closed and ignored her while trying to sober up and convince myself that the best way to get rid of her was to prove every terrible thing she might think of me to be absolutely true.

As long as Winnie Halliday stayed intrigued and partially infatuated with me, I would never know a minute of peace.

Her attention was too expensive for a guy who was about to have less than two pennies to rub together.

I followed her into a luxury condo that was triple the size of mine and didn’t let her so much as put her purse down before I yanked her into my arms and planted a feverish and impatient kiss on her pouty lips.

She made a breathy sound and reached up to wrap her arms around my neck.

I wondered if I tasted like abject failure because she tasted as fresh and fancy as she looked.

And she kissed as innocently and awkwardly as I imagined.

If I were a betting man—which the entire professional football association believed me to be—I would put money down that I was the first person who ever got to kiss Winnie Halliday.

I was the first to use my tongue to tease a taste from her, the first to put my hands on her flawless flesh and feel her quiver uncontrollably.

There was no doubt that no one else had ever gotten the opportunity to strip her bare and pin her against the wall so they could go down on her.

And there wasn’t a single soul who tumbled her into a massive bed and made her gasp and moan through emotional tears while they fucked her.

I was drunk, but no matter how inebriated I was, the sounds she made and the way she whispered my name like it was something special were going to stick with me for a lifetime.

That memorable night, I managed to make her come a few times despite being clumsy and rough.

I knew I would never forget what it felt like to be her first. The only lie I told that I never convinced myself to believe was that Winnie Halliday meant nothing to me and that I wanted nothing to do with her, in my past, present, or future.