A Place for My Heart

chapter 2

The car ride to Cristiano’s house was silent and awkward. His Lamborghini was amazing, I had never dreamed I would be in it with him. I was still wondering how I got here when we stopped and told me we had arrived.

“Wow.” I said, stepping out of his car, as he led me to the front door. We were in a secluded area, the nearest house was 10 minutes away. The view was amazing, his house was on a hill, you could see all of Madrid from here. His house was almost as beautiful as he was.

“I’ll show you to the guest bedroom,” he said. I followed him up stairs and through a hallway, to the first room on the right. He dropped my bag at the bed, which was huge. This room was the most beautiful guest bedroom I’d ever been in, I couldn’t even imagine what his room looked like.

“Thank you so much Cristiano. This has to be the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“No problem,” he smiled. “The bathrooms through that door, make yourself at home.”

“Okay, thanks. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Rose.” He closed the door behind him.

I looked at myself in the full length mirror next to the door. Ugh. I was disgusting. I couldn’t be bothered doing anything with myself, so turned off the light and flopped down on the bed like a potato. The clock on the bedside said it was one o’clock. I groaned and got into the blankets, falling asleep almost instantly.

When I woke up, I was extremely disoriented. My first thought was where the hell am I? Then I remembered. My teenage crush was the kindest man I had ever met. I looked at the bedside clock, then groaned when it told me it was ten o’clock. I got out of bed and went to the bathroom, pausing to look at myself in the mirror for a few seconds. The bruises from yesterday had gotten even worse. Tears welled up in my eyes, spilling over and onto the tiled floor of the bathroom. How did I let this happen to myself?

I took a quick shower, and put on the only white shirt and jeans I had packed. I sighed as I looked at myself. It’d have to do, I thought, as I made my way downstairs to try and find something to satisfy my grumbling stomach. I wasn’t sure if it was rude to eat his food, or if he even kept any good food in his house. Aren’t footballers on a strict diet or something?

“I made breakfast,” I heard as I reached the living room. I looked around in wonder, he had the biggest T.V. I had ever seen in my life. Cristiano was lounging on a sofa in front of it, watching one of Real Madrid’s old games. It was the third of January, so I guess he was analysing his performance for when games would start up again.

“Go grab some and eat here with me.” he said.

“Alright,” I went to the kitchen, and surveyed his cooking skills. He had made scrambled eggs and toast. And here I was thinking he’d be some amazing cook or something. Grabbing the food, I made my way back to the living room and sat down next to him on the sofa.

“So when are Irina and Junior coming back?” I asked, trying to make small talk.

“Next week. Listen, I understand if you don’t want to tell me what happened last night, but I really would like to know. I’m a curious person.”

Well, he didn’t waste time. I was going to have to tell him. “I broke up with my boyfriend, Mark. We’ve been together for five years. We moved to Madrid together last year.”

“What about the bruises?” He was cautious, telling me that I didn’t have to talk about it if I didn’t want to.

“He didn’t take it so well when I told him it was over. I ran, and that’s when you found me.”

“He did this to you?” Cristiano ran his hand over my face, his thumb tracing back and forth over the bruises.

I nodded, “I couldn’t take it anymore,” tears were falling down my face again. “He would hit me in places no one could see. Ever since we moved to Madrid, he’s changed so much. The love of my life is a junkie now.” I sobbed.

Cristiano pulled me into a hug, as I continued to cry. “The worst part is, I know he loves me. He just loves the drugs more.” I said into his chest. He rested his head on top of mine, keeping me in his embrace. This was insane. I was telling Cristiano Ronaldo about my life, and he actually cared. His arms around me made me feel so safe, like no one could ever hurt me again.

I pulled away, wiping my face on my sleeve, not wanting him to see me like this. “It was really nice of you to let me stay here, but I don’t want to be a charity case. I’m going to go back to my house and get the rest of my things, then stay in a motel or something until I find an apartment.”

“Let me come with you.”

I looked at him in shock. “You’ve done too much for me. I can’t let you do this too. I’ll catch a cab there; it’s no problem, really.”

“Rose. I’m coming with you. I will not let you go back into a house alone with a man that hurts you. What kind of a person would I be if I did?”

“A normal person,” I answered, wiping my face on my sleeve again. He handed me a tissue and took my hand.

“Look, let’s go get your things, then we’ll come back here and figure out where you’re going to live, okay?”

I nodded, stunned. Why would someone do all this for a stranger? I had always assumed Cristiano Ronaldo was slightly arrogant and overconfident, but so far all I had seen was a kind, caring man. He really was the perfect gentleman.