Matchpoint

Chapter 27:

The nightlife in Madrid is a whole other story. I'm in a room filled with drunk individuals who have chosen to party their nights away here at the Madrid Open. There are coaches, players, friends of players, plus ones, and just complete random people.

I love the atmosphere. The bright lights turn our faces into a kaleidoscope of colours. And the drinks have a beautiful touch of citrus fruits.

I don't know how I managed to find myself here, but all I know is that Dom texted me a location, and I showed up. Whether that was a mistake or not, I guess I'll find out.

I'm moving my way through I crowd of people, I think I passed Ben Shelton dancing with some random chick, and Coco Guaff talking Olivia Gadecki's face off.

But still, no Dom.

"Hey, pretty lady." A smooth voice catches me off guard, so does a hand on my waist.

Dark, taunting gaze. Large, dominant figure. Jack Draper.

"Draper." I say softly, very aware of his hand placement and the way it begins sliding downwards.

"The Clove Dunn, here, at a party?" He licks his lips, moving closer to me.

"I'm more surprised you're here, given the loss you faced today." I mutter, but loud enough for Draper to hear me.

He doesn't react like I'd hoped. Instead, he draws me closer and smiles mischievously.

"How does one simply choose you as their coach? No qualifications. No experience. Bizarre, right?" Draper whispers into my ear. "Did you seduce him? Slit the throat of his old coach? What was it?"

I'm speechless. Shocked by such words. Horrified by what he is insinuating.

"Such a pretty face should be seated in my box, or, on my lap." He breathes hot, sticky air down onto me.

I clench my eyes shut, hopelessly wishing I'd never come in the first place. That is until I feel Draper's grip loosen.

"Thought you'd be on a flight home by now." His voice is a breath of fresh air, and seeing him standing there in the lights is even better.

"Fraser, mate, I was just introducing myself to your..." Draper drawls.

"Get the fuck out of here." Dom says sternly, eyes darting to the hand around my waist.

Draper raises his hands in innocence and retreats backwards. "As you wish." Before giving me one final wink. "Lovely to meet you, Clove."

He says my name like he owns it. It makes me want to throw up.

Dom moves closer to me, his hand shooting down to grab at mine.

"I hate that fucker." He mutters, but I can't get over how his hand is in mine. Palm to palm. Skin to skin.

"What did he say to you?" I ask.

"What?" Dom responds in confusion.

"On the court." I state, but Dom doesn't seem to catch on, so I elaborate. "He said something to you at the net, and you froze. I thought you were going to snap."

It dawns on Dom. He finally gets what I'm talking about. "You don't want to know. He was just getting in my head."

Dom begins pulling me back through the crowd and through a small passage.

"Dom." I speak sternly. "What did he say?"

With a huff, Dom stops in the hallway and stares at me. "Do you really want to know? Because it's not nice." I nod once. Defeatedly, Dom places his free hand on my shoulder. "He said, 'well, isn't your coach fuckable. Care to share.' And it was just fucking...fucking disrespectful."