Chapter Eight

Samantha was still in a heated fury even when she entered the locker room. Ignoring all the players who were still getting changed, she marched deeper into the odour-filled room and searched for her one and only target.

He was nowhere to be seen, and in her madness, she stormed into the shower room without hesitation. A quick glance at all the surprised faces staring back at her, showed her that he was not there and without a word of explanation to all the naked men, she stylishly pivoted and went to continue her search back inside the main locker room.

Soon she found him. He was in the adjoining rumpus room. And even though he had more time than any of his teammates to get changed, he was still topless as he sat on the couch while intently watching a tennis match on TV with two of his teammates.

She walked into the room and the place immediately fell silent as all eyes stared at her with the exception of the idiot. He didn't seem to notice her presence and instead continued to stare intently at the monitor and acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary. For a whole minute she simply stood just inside the door frame and glared at his profile. The tension was so thick in the room that none of the other players dared to move.

Samantha, deciding it was better to remove as many witnesses as possible, looked pointedly over at the boys who had been playing a game of pool and began to tap her right foot impatiently on the floor. They instantly got the hint and they sighed with relief before rushing out of the room without a backwards glance.

Now that most of the spectators were gone she took a step forward. Instantly, Rickio and Evan—who were still sitting faithfully next to their captain—sprained to their feet, and through mumbling explanations under the breath, hurried out the door.

She turned her head over her shoulder to look through the open doorway and found that there was suddenly hardly anyone left in the change room. A few of the players were still around and they were hastily grabbing their clothes and bags and rushing either into the shower room to get changed or out of the locker room entirely.

Satisfied, she turned back to stare at him some more. Now that she was looking closely, she noticed that he wasn't as relaxed as she had first thought; a bulging vein at the side of his neck gave away just how on guard and tense he really was.

"Do you even have an inkling of what you've just done?" She asked in a low monotone.

He ignored her and took a sip of beer from the can he was nursing in his hand.

She took two steps forward and dropped a bunch of photos onto the coffee table in front of him. The pictures scattered perfectly to show the different angles of his idiotic punch. Every newspaper in the country—in the world in fact—would be at this moment choosing the best shot to print in their tomorrow paper, and yet the man concerned didn't even bother to move his eyes from staring at the ass of Rafa Nadal on the screen to have a look at the pictures.

"What is wrong with you?!" She yelled, unable to control her frustration any longer. "You are a disgraceful human being do you know that?"

She huffed in disbelief at his lack of response. "You are unbelievable! You're Selfish! And most of all, you're a big fat hypocrite!"

Michael's control finally came to an end. He crushed the can with his fingers and the overflow of alcohol washed over his hand. He didn't seem to notice any of this as he stood up and faced her with barely concealed rage.

"Hypocrite? Who are you to go judging me when you're the biggest uptight hypocritical bitch in the world?" His voice was deep with anger and his face was in a heated fury as he stared down at her.

She was taken aback but did not miss a beat. "Hypocritical bitch!? Is that all you can come up with for the last hour? While your teammates were playing with one man short, all you could think up with was find a way to blame someone else for you stupidity?"

"Yeah! I blame you! This is all your fucking fault! If you were paying attention to that game like you ought, I wouldn't have been pissed off at the fact that my team is stuck with a useless ditz like you!"

They were barely a foot away from each other but neither noticed the proximity. They angrily stared into each other's eyes as each wondered how there could be such an idiot living in this world.

This very short pause within their argument helped Samantha to regain her composure. And even though she wanted nothing more than to beat this obnoxious captain with all she had, her professional training made her take a step back and start again.

"Mr White." Her voice was a bit wobbly but nonetheless it was calm. "I understand that you are unhappy at the fact that you are the cause for your teams lose but you must—"

"I AM THE CAUSE? ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME?" He took a step forward and looked as if he wanted to tackle her to the ground if she wasn't a woman.

"Mr White, please keep—"

"Quit Mr Whiting me!" He yelled again with no care to the fact that he interrupted her yet again.

She closed her eyes for a second, took a deep breath before she took a step back and tried again.

"Mr White" She emphasised his name. She quickly held up her hand to stop him from interrupting, it worked. "Clearly respect isn't part of your vocabulary but I would appreciate it if you could have the courtesy of calming down and thinking clearly. There are a lot of things that needs to be taken care of before the night end and I would appreciate your corporation."

Michael stared at her as if she had just spoken to him in another language. "In what century are you living in woman?! Quit your fake calm act and quit your posh language. I assure you that your ability to speak poshly does not impress me. And if you have so much shit to do, then go do it." With all that said, he turned and went back to watching the tennis match.

To say Sam was stunned was an understatement. She rolled her eyes at his absurdity and prayed for support from a higher source.

"Michael." She began again. White rolled his eyes in acknowledgement. "We need to talk about today."

Michael sighed in exasperation and turned off the television as he stood up. Without acknowledging her, he walked right passed her and went and opened his locker door.

Not relenting, Samantha followed suit and while staring at his back she continued. "We need to discuss how you are going to explain to the media about what you done today. Not only would there be possible repercussions in the coming days, but you might face assault charges."

He smirked. "Relax. I barely touched him."

Her eyes widened. "You barely touched him? His noise is broken and he's missing a tooth!!"

Michael had the nerve to laugh at what she just said. "Good. He deserved it."

"Michael White! Please be serious!" She was losing all her patience and was ready to kick him where it would hurt him the most—his penis.

He turned around and seriously looked into her eyes. She began to speak but got distracted as she watched him as he dropped the shorts he was wearing to the ground. Her eyes rounded at the sight in front of her. Her mouth dropped as she took in the naked warrior standing there.

His abs was perfectly chiselled, but she has seen that before so that was not what surprised her. Her eyes were in fact glued to the place where she wanted to kick just a moment before, and she revered at the size of his...

She quickly whipped her eyes away as she realised what she was doing. Her face was burning with embarrassment and a natural woman's longing. She internally kicked herself for feeing either of those emotions. After all, she has seen naked man before.

Finally, Samantha settled her eyes on his. From the cocky self-assurance in his clear blue eyes, and the arrogant smirk formed on his perfect lips, she knew he had watched her every movement.

She wasn't embarrassed anymore. She was pissed off. She was pissed off for being embarrassed but what's more, she was pissed off at his arrogance.

"Put some clothes on Michael!" She said with the last of her dignity.

His smirk turned into an obnoxious grin. "Why? Am I making you hot?"

Her face heated up even more and she huffed with disbelief. "Trust me. You're not my taste. Now if you could put your pants on, we can then talk about what happened today so you won't look like a stereotypical moron when you go sit for your press conference, which by the way starts in three hours."

He folded his arm and remained immobile. "I'm not your type?" He repeated with a frown.

She couldn't believe him. After everything that she had just said, that is what he was focusing on!?

"No you're not. I am not attracted to man who think their all that. If you must know, they in fact repulse me." She replied coolly.

He nodded his head in understanding. "I see, so what you're saying is that you are not interested in real man, like myself. But instead, you got a thing for wimps like that shit you were making out with in the box right? You know? When you were supposed to be watching the game?" He added when he saw that she was confused.

"How did you...That is none of your business." She quickly amended. "Now. I don't have all day. If you don't explain, then you can kiss your season goodbye. And remember Michael, I do not make idle threats."

He was still standing naked in front of her and it was getting harder and harder for her to not glance down.

His eyes narrowed for a split second before finally deciding to tell her about his suspicion of match fixing.

Samantha thought hard and yet still could not understand why they would want to fix this match. After all, this was a friendly match, not a real season match. But then again, 'match fixing' is an excellent excuse to get Michael out of trouble so she quickly took out her phone to talk to BK's lawyer.

As she stood there in front of him talking on her phone, Michael still did not move to her dismay. With his arms folded, he intently listened to her side of the conversation and constantly corrected what she said by giving out facts or terms that may be of help to this investigation.


After spending the last four hours dealing with the media, Sam was exhausted and couldn't wait to go home. After saying goodbye to Phil, she left his office with the last of her energy.

She wasn't looking where she was going and bumped into the chest of someone solid. With an apology on her lips she looked up and rolled her eyes.

It was Eric. This man just won't give up!

"Eric what are you doing here?" She asked coolly.

He smiled sadly and placed his hands in his pockets. "I watched the news. You must be very tired after today. I thought I'll give you a lift home. It's not safe for you to drive when you're tired, besides, I haven't had a chance to talk to you."

She opened her mouth to decline his offer but her attention was suddenly pulled towards Michael. He walked over to her, holding the anger management training broacher.

"Are you for real?" Michael asked the minute he was in front of her.

She didn't need to ask to know that he was referring to the anger management training class she had organised for him to take.

"You need help Michael." She replied calmly.

"I don't need help. I need you off my back!"

He turned to leave but she was not finished. "Michael! You can't just carry on with your life and pretend today didn't happen. The public, the media and I won't allow it. It is supposed to be a one month coarse but you will only need to take it for two-and-a-half weeks. You start tomorrow."

"Like hell I am."

Sam was not impressed by his comebacks and if she wasn't exhausted, she would probably enjoy torturing him for a little longer. However, she just wants to go home and sleep now so she quickly gave him the ultimatum she had planned from the beginning.

"I'm tired of arguing with you. I am willing to be lenient and give you a choice. You can choose, training class or apply to five additional charity events. Two options, you can choose either one."

Michael sighed angrily, ripped up the broacher in his hands and stormed off.

"So the charity events it is." She called to his back. "I'll email you a list for you to choose from first thing tomorrow morning."

White didn't reply but she still enjoyed winning a round against him.

"Ready to go?" Eric asked beside her.

"Oh!" One down, another to go. She smiled at Eric, but shook her head. "I um, I drove here today and I don't want to leave my car here. Thanks for your offer but I'm fine."

"That's easy, I'll drive you in your car and then I'll take a taxi back here." He said easily as they both began walking again.

"No Eric." If she didn't know him, she would think he was a bit freaky. "That's too much trouble and I really don't think it is necessary."

"Sam. I need to talk to you. I'm not going to leave you unless we talk." His patience was gone and his true intentions were revealed. Samantha didn't know if she was relieved that he wasn't turning into a stalker or be hurt because he didn't really care about her safely after all.

Too tired to think she decided to compromise. "Fine. Meet me here tomorrow lunch at the cafe. We'll talk then. Goodnight Eric."

Eric was satisfied and smiled charmingly. "Night. Drive safe."

Before she had time to respond, he quickly bent his head and kissed her cheek. Without another word to him, Sam quickly left, forcing herself to not think about him at all.