His Rules: Ludlow Nights - Book1 (A Ludlow Nights Romance) Read Online Free Page A
Author: CC MacKenzie
hole right through him.
Why had she stared at him like that?
As if she was analysing him.
New-sprung irritation battled through bemusement. Unlike some of his teammates, Olivier didn't primp and preen his hair or his face. A quick rub with a towel was all the styling he needed.
He pulled on black jeans by Armani, tugged a T-shirt the color of gunmetal over his head. Thrust his feet into black sneakers given by his sponsors and strapped on a twenty thousand dollar watch by another sponsor, TAG. Stuck buds in his ears, selected the Arctic Monkeys, hefted his bag and strolled out the door and through the waiting throng of a passionate press.
He headed for the elevator instead of the team bus because he was staying at Ludlow Hall for a few days to spend down time with Nico and Bronte before joining the team in Rome for five days of pre-match conditioning.
Due to I Bet You Look Good On The Dance floor pounding in his ears, he didn't hear the crowd screaming his name, or the press demanding attention, before he walked into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor.
Coolly, he stepped out of the elevator, ear buds now dangling around his neck. With a grin, he acknowledged the slap on the back from his club chairman. Then he automatically looked for Nico. Instead his eyes found hers. She was dressed in an expensive trouser suit. The color looked good on her, set off all that fabulous hair. The height of her shoes were insane as she stood with her back to the rail, just watching him, while he pressed the flesh of the great and the good. It struck him forcibly that for such a little thing, she appeared to have a huge presence. And there was that same look in her eye for him, an intensity level that not only seriously unnerved him, but seriously pissed him off, too. There was not one sign of approval, not one sign of enjoyment of the game. Olivier knew it was juvenile, but as she stared at him he was absolutely determined not to blink first, to win. Not once did her eyes waver as he took a step towards her.
Nico stepped into his line of vision. His face split wide in a huge grin.
"Magnifico! Magnifico!" His mentor and friend grabbed his head, kissed him twice on each cheek, scrubbed his hair, slapped him on the back, and finished the dance with a bear hug.
Watching her over his friend's shoulder, Oliver slapped Nico's back. And for the first time in his life experienced the odd sensation of being both thrilled with the show of affection from a man who meant the world to him, and the overwhelming desire to strangle a perfect stranger.
Before he could take another step, the Chairman and Chief Executive of the home club took Olivier aside to offer their congratulations.
"How was that for your very first game of football?" Nico wanted to know grinning down into Anastacia's flushed face.
"It was... interesting."
"He will be European player of the year," he said, sounding like a very proud papa. He caught the eye of a hovering waiter and scooped up two glasses of champagne, handed one to her and clinked their glasses.
Taking a careful sip of her wine, Anastacia and alcohol were not friends, she watched Nico join Olivier. With lots of charm and tact, Olivier untangled himself from the VIP's and headed straight for her.
Anastacia refused to admit that her blood pressure had risen with every single eye contact. She refused to admit it was on the rise now, too. She reminded herself that in her line of work she met famous men, smooth talking men, charming men, every single day. This one was no different than the rest.
But then Anastacia found herself face to face with an Olivier Conti who wasn't smiling now. She didn't like that she had to tip her head back to retain eye contact. Having him this up close and personal was quite different to seeing him from a distance. For one thing he smelled of a clean male, the tang of his cologne spun around her, mingling with the heat of his body. There was something burning deep in
Why had she stared at him like that?
As if she was analysing him.
New-sprung irritation battled through bemusement. Unlike some of his teammates, Olivier didn't primp and preen his hair or his face. A quick rub with a towel was all the styling he needed.
He pulled on black jeans by Armani, tugged a T-shirt the color of gunmetal over his head. Thrust his feet into black sneakers given by his sponsors and strapped on a twenty thousand dollar watch by another sponsor, TAG. Stuck buds in his ears, selected the Arctic Monkeys, hefted his bag and strolled out the door and through the waiting throng of a passionate press.
He headed for the elevator instead of the team bus because he was staying at Ludlow Hall for a few days to spend down time with Nico and Bronte before joining the team in Rome for five days of pre-match conditioning.
Due to I Bet You Look Good On The Dance floor pounding in his ears, he didn't hear the crowd screaming his name, or the press demanding attention, before he walked into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor.
Coolly, he stepped out of the elevator, ear buds now dangling around his neck. With a grin, he acknowledged the slap on the back from his club chairman. Then he automatically looked for Nico. Instead his eyes found hers. She was dressed in an expensive trouser suit. The color looked good on her, set off all that fabulous hair. The height of her shoes were insane as she stood with her back to the rail, just watching him, while he pressed the flesh of the great and the good. It struck him forcibly that for such a little thing, she appeared to have a huge presence. And there was that same look in her eye for him, an intensity level that not only seriously unnerved him, but seriously pissed him off, too. There was not one sign of approval, not one sign of enjoyment of the game. Olivier knew it was juvenile, but as she stared at him he was absolutely determined not to blink first, to win. Not once did her eyes waver as he took a step towards her.
Nico stepped into his line of vision. His face split wide in a huge grin.
"Magnifico! Magnifico!" His mentor and friend grabbed his head, kissed him twice on each cheek, scrubbed his hair, slapped him on the back, and finished the dance with a bear hug.
Watching her over his friend's shoulder, Oliver slapped Nico's back. And for the first time in his life experienced the odd sensation of being both thrilled with the show of affection from a man who meant the world to him, and the overwhelming desire to strangle a perfect stranger.
Before he could take another step, the Chairman and Chief Executive of the home club took Olivier aside to offer their congratulations.
"How was that for your very first game of football?" Nico wanted to know grinning down into Anastacia's flushed face.
"It was... interesting."
"He will be European player of the year," he said, sounding like a very proud papa. He caught the eye of a hovering waiter and scooped up two glasses of champagne, handed one to her and clinked their glasses.
Taking a careful sip of her wine, Anastacia and alcohol were not friends, she watched Nico join Olivier. With lots of charm and tact, Olivier untangled himself from the VIP's and headed straight for her.
Anastacia refused to admit that her blood pressure had risen with every single eye contact. She refused to admit it was on the rise now, too. She reminded herself that in her line of work she met famous men, smooth talking men, charming men, every single day. This one was no different than the rest.
But then Anastacia found herself face to face with an Olivier Conti who wasn't smiling now. She didn't like that she had to tip her head back to retain eye contact. Having him this up close and personal was quite different to seeing him from a distance. For one thing he smelled of a clean male, the tang of his cologne spun around her, mingling with the heat of his body. There was something burning deep in
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