Play of Love: The Gladiator Players Box Set Read online

  Play of Love

  The Gladiator Players Box Set

  Khardine Gray

  Bliss Romance Publishing

  The Road Trip ( Formerly called One Wild Night)

  Copyright © 2017 by Khardine Gray

  All rights reserved.

  This work is copyrighted. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act (1968) no part of this work may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Copyright © 2018 by Khardine Gray

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Shape of My Heart

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  The Road Trip

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Epilogue

  Hearts Entwined

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Shape of My Heart

  Chapter 1

  Amy

  * * *

  I rested my hands on my lap then brought them together over the silk fabric of my skirt.

  I’d been sitting in the manager’s office at Orbit Consultancy for the last half an hour looking around and taking in the strange combination of décor. While it had quite an attractive floor-to-ceiling window, which faced the main road, I wasn’t sure what to make of the rest of the room and supposed that the designer must have been going for a…

  Well that was just the thing. I wanted to say modern, but didn’t think that was quite correct so maybe original was a better choice of word to describe and interpret it.

  It was the only explanation for the black-and-red-striped polka dot walls. And why anyone would put a lovely oil painting of the Trevi Fountain next to what looked like an African mask made of string cheese that dangled from the edges?

  And the French windows… While the glossy white polish made us gleam, the wrought-iron flower baskets attached to either side were made to look like skeleton bones with roses peeking out of the gaps. On the baskets’ rims were a series of bright red miniature skulls running along in a row.

  I could see where the idea attempted to be imaginative and in line with that style that had emerged with skulls and bones mingling with flowers, but this here designer had done some mad weirdness that just ended up looking tacky. Tacky, and actually a little scary. It made me conjure up images of those movies where the characters ended up shipwrecked on an island and ran into a cannibal tribal community who displayed human skulls for trophies.

  I thought the flower baskets were awful, but what caught my attention even more was the large oil painting to my left of one of those alien-like hairless cats. It had bright, bright yellow eyes that stared back at me and sat on a silky cream cushion in an armchair.

  I grimaced at the sight and looked away as goosebumps prickled my skin.

  The entire office needed redoing, but that was just my opinion.

  Perhaps the whole ensemble would look original and creative in another person’s view. I wouldn’t know who, but I guessed there would be some people who saw it that way.

  Each to their own, I supposed.

  I was a designer myself. Not an interior designer, but a fashion designer. Well…soon to be. Very soon. I had all the academic qualifications, having studied at The Fashion Institute of Technology in New York, and I had a wealth of experience from my placements at Chanel, Gucci, and Vogue. All I needed now was the job. Literally, the job.

  I’d always dreamed of working for Christian Dior. I could have chosen to work with a smaller fashion house or brand, and would more than likely be well into designing by now, but Dior was where I wanted to be. I’d had my heart set on it.

  My first dose of inspiration came to my six-year-old self as I watched the Oscars ceremony on TV with my mother. I’d always remembered how spectacular Michelle Pfeiffer looked as she walked across the red carpet, lighting it up with her bright yellow, strapless, Dior Couture dress with sequins splashed across the bodice. That was the moment, my moment, when I not only knew that I wanted to become a fashion designer but one that worked for Dior. I wanted to make dresses just like that one, and have celebrities parade them on the red carpet. That moment was a wakeup call for me. It was like my calling in life had been issued to me and I’d answered fiercely, fighting against any obstacles that came my way with unparalleled perseverance. I took it upon myself to gain all the knowledge I needed. There wasn’t anything about the fashion world or Dior that I didn’t know.

  I’d had quite the journey since that memorable childhood day, and life hadn’t joked to issue me the rough stuff, but I kept the dream alive. I kept the dream alive even though each year it seemed to get further away from me.

  I had been very fortunate with my education, which almost didn’t happen, and work so far. Despite my difficult upbringing I’d managed to stay on the path that should have led me to where I wanted to be, but life kept throwing obstacles at me. Like this recent thing with my mother.

  It was a serious blow that had thrown me off track. Now I’d have to fight even harder to keep the dream alive in my mind as I took on this PA role.

  I’d been a PA in New York, but that was for Style Magazine. I’d worked with them for five years, three of which were spent working as a PA for Teddy Donovan, the editor in chief. When I took that job I’d been in two minds because it was different to what I was used to and didn’t exactly fit the designer route. However, a source from Dior had informed me that they valued people who had experience in supporting those with a decision-making capacity.

  So, having something like a PA role to the editor in chief of a top magazine on my résumé would be extremely appealing. The cherry on top was that Style Magazine was one of the favorites among designers. Right in league with the likes of Vogue and Runway magazine.

  I had immersed myself in the role and it provided me with valuable skills. It was a job with a goal in sight, and Teddy had made sure that I was given all the opportunities to increase my knowledge of the industry and experience.

  The PA role I was about to take on now would not be like that.

  Not even close.

  This would be a regular, completely average PA role.

  I straightened up in my chair as a slender, petite woman came in wearing a baby blue blouse I immediately recognized from Chanel’s latest spring collection. The black three-quarter-length trousers from the same collection complemented it fantastically like it would on one of the models
on the runway displaying it.

  The woman was about mid-to-late fifties and had that elegance most people carried themselves with in L.A.

  Her sophisticated attire and neat up do of fiery red hair only served to enhance her look.

  “Amy, so sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Zelda.” Zelda put out her hand to shake mine. I stood up and shook it with a cheerful smile that I hoped hid my nerves. I wasn’t nervous about doing the job itself. It was everything else. Mainly the significance I placed on it.

  “That’s okay. I’ve just been admiring your office.” That was a lie, but my nerves were making it a little difficult for me to focus on conversation starters.

  “Admiring? Geez, you’re too nice.” Zelda narrowed her bright green eyes and laughed. “This is my husband’s atrocious attempt at ambiance. I’m not usually so accepting but it would hurt him to no end if I told him the truth.”

  That explained it.

  “Oh.” I offered a smile and sat back down when Zelda lowered into her chair neatly positioned behind the immaculate, well-organized desk before us.

  “So, thank you for stopping by. We don’t usually do this sort of meeting but I had to warn you that Mr. Mancini is a very special case.” Zelda sat back in her chair and sighed with a slight edge. “A special case that has to be handled with…tact and care, if you will.”

  Orbit Consultancy was a Sports PR company who represented the L.A. Gladiators, L.A.’s superstar football team.

  Teddy had made this opportunity possible for me. Even though it wasn’t fashion related, it was a route, if I could hack it, to take care of my current family situation and still have a hand in accomplishing my dreams. L.A. was where I needed to be to continue my designer application for Dior and—fingers crossed—work for them. I’d planned to move here the minute I got the okay that my application had been successfully accepted . But more importantly, taking this job would provide the funds I desperately needed to take care of my mother.

  When Teddy had told me about the job I started researching straightaway and did all my ground work on Mr. Mancini. From what I read I knew that the poor guy had been through a lot.

  “I understand and I will definitely be sensitive to his needs,” I said with confidence. Minus the fashion side of things, being the PA to a star athlete couldn’t have been that different to being Teddy’s PA. Sure I imagined there would be some notable differences, but the basic processes to carry out the role had to be the same.

  Joshua Mancini was the star linebacker for the Gladiators. He’d played football all his life. Tragedy had however struck last year at the start of the season when his mother and sister were killed in a car crash. Understandably, he was unable to continue with the season and was left devastated at the news. I’d read all about the incident, and other things about him during the week I’d spent here in the dreadful hovel of an apartment I’d managed to get on my budget.

  My job was to help him get ready for the upcoming season in six months. I imagined it to be the standard paperwork filing and sorting, organizing events, doing emails, and just offering support.

  Surely it was that simple.

  “That’s exactly what I was worried about.” Zelda sighed again. “Amy, I’ll be honest with you.”

  I leaned forward, my curiosity piqued from the tentative tone Zelda’s voice took on. I would have thought that my sensitivity was exactly what was needed here, given what had happened to the poor man. I just assumed that Mr. Mancini needed someone to get on with the work and handle his affairs.

  Zelda brought her hands together and knitted her perfectly manicured fingers. “This job is going to be difficult.” She bit the inside of her lips. “Teddy is a dear friend of mine and he spoke very highly of you. His word alone was sufficient for me to offer you the job.” Zelda smiled.

  I really appreciated that. It was the first job I’d ever had where I didn’t have to go through the standard interviews and assessments process. I’d been lucky to have met someone like Teddy. He’d always looked out for me and was the kind of person that helped because he cared and wanted me to do well. He’d helped me to no end when I worked for him and he was still helping me out now.

  “However,” Zelda pulled in a breath. “That is the same reason why I wanted to meet with you today before you started. I wanted to give you a full brief and heads up. Mr. Mancini is like your standard athlete with the super ego.”

  Oh, that was what this was about. It hadn’t escaped me that Joshua Mancini was incredibly handsome and a masterpiece of a man. I’d seen the pictures and I guessed Zelda was going to tell me that I’d have to deal with his fans and football groupies.

  “I’m used to working with celebrities,” I stated with a confident nod. I’d worked with a number of them on photo shoots and other fashion-related events. I’d long since lost that starry-eyed craze and knew how to handle myself.

  I assumed that was why this job came with such an attractive salary. A salary that only an idiot would refuse. The role was full time and permanent, but I’d get fifty thousand dollars at the end of the first six months if I could get Mr. Mancini ready to play for the season, which started in September.

  To make the deal even sweeter, I was promised twenty thousand dollars as an extra bonus in three weeks if I could sort out all the backlog work from the previous PA and get him to the first scheduled TV appearance with ESPN. That was the first hurdle I had to jump over, which was my trial run. I planned to use that twenty thousand as a deposit for Mom’s surgery. The doctors had agreed to start treatment with a deposit and a subsequent installment plan. The price I was quoted was fifty-five thousand dollars, so by the time I was fully paid she’d have more than enough money for everything.

  I was ready for this and failure was not an option. Mom’s life depended on it.

  “I wish it was that simple.” Zelda sighed, raising fine, arched brows. “As a PR company we’ve managed to keep a lot of the truth out of the media. What happened to Mr. Mancini was truly terrible, but I’m afraid it affected him a great deal and made him worse than he already was.”

  It was the way she put it that held my attention. Worse than he already was? What did she mean by that?

  “Really?” I widened my eyes and bit the inside of my bottom lip.

  “Yes. I have to be frank with you because, aside from coming from Teddy, you seem like a nice person and I can only imagine that the attractive salary is what interested you.”

  “Well, it is rather large.” It was a hell of a lot of money. More than what I’d made at Style in any year, and the fact that I’d get it in lump sums was even better for my situation.

  “There’s a reason for that. I’m sure you must have done your research, but what the internet won’t tell you is that Joshua Mancini is a raging alcoholic suffering from deep depression and bereavement. He lost complete control when his mother and sister died, and all I know is that we’ve had ten PAs leave him in the last four months. I won’t scare you with the details but, put simply, before the accident he was a womanizing, self-righteous jerk and now he’s an uber-womanizing, self-righteous jerk with alcohol and mental issues. That’s the part you didn’t read about.” She pressed her mouth together in a tight-lipped smile. “Also, he tends to get overly sexual when under the influence, and you’re blonde and beautiful. His favorite type.” Her eyes clung to mine, analyzing my reaction.

  Zelda’s bluntness shocked me . I wasn’t expecting that at all. I definitely wasn’t.

  “Still want the job?” Zelda asked.

  “I need it,” was all I could say, because I did. There wasn’t a question about it. I needed this job, and that was the end of any contemplation for me.

  “Well honey, I appreciate that, but if he grabs your ass you run like hell. No job is worth the hassle and stress that this man can cause. I just didn’t want you walking in on this blind eyed.”

  “Okay.” I brought my hands together and pressed on my nails. This didn’t sound good at all, but I had to do it. I
t was a necessity, and I couldn’t see any other way of getting the funds I needed.

  Mom had been sick for a very long time. I was originally from Atlanta. I’d lived there with Mom and Tristan, my brother, before college.

  Mom had always had heart problems, probably because of all the time spent working so hard to support Tristan and I.

  Particularly after Dad walked out on us. I was eight at the time and Tristan was five. Mom had a part-time job at our school as a receptionist, but Dad walking out heralded the need to grab another two jobs and move to a trailer park to keep our family going. It was a really rough time and the years of harshness took its toll. The week before Christmas last year I got a call from the hospital in Atlanta letting me know that Mom had a severe heart attack and was in intensive care. Then I got hit with the news that Mom’s insurance company wouldn’t cover the cost of surgery because she’d lowered her plan to the outpatient package. A way of saving money.

  I had to use all my savings, everything I’d built up to go to L.A. It was everything I had, but that was only enough to cover the cost of a temporary fix to keep her going.

  Mom got a stent placed in her coronary artery to keep it open and reduce the chance of another heart attack. Had she gotten the stent sooner it would have helped her out a lot, but the years of non-treatment and lack of care deteriorated her heart significantly and what she needed was a triple bypass.