Match Pointe

Eloise didn’t pay much attention to Ivan’s matches, vaguely aware that he was struggling through the tournament on a wing and a prayer. She was concentrating on some intermittent sprint training on the running machine in the hotel’s gym when the sports news caught her eye – causing her to misjudge her steps, topple off the conveyer belt and land awkwardly on her weak left ankle. She sat on the carpet, momentarily befuddled, as she absorbed the reality that Noah had just been awarded the match over Ivan – who had forfeited the match in the fourth set, unable to continue due to a hamstring injury.

She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Ivan limping up to the net to shake Noah’s hand, Noah placing his arm around Ivan’s shoulder in genuine sympathy for such a misfortune. Noah was through to the finals of the US Open! Her new ‘best friend’, the twenty-four-year-old slightly French Aussie who drank martinis and pints and who was quite partial to smoking on the odd occasion! She was forced to admit to herself that she hadn’t honestly believed it was possible for someone so laid-back to ever reach the pinnacle of his sport; from her perspective, he just didn’t seem to take it seriously enough. Although she had to concede, he was steadily climbing up the ranks with each match he played, which must be exciting for him.

All of a sudden, the final of the US Open held far greater significance to her than it had mere moments before. Not only would Noah be playing in his first grand-slam final, but Ivan’s status as Number One was also potentially at risk.

Throwing a towel around her neck and ignoring the pain in her ankle, she quickly returned to her suite to shower. Afterwards, she flicked the TV to the channel dedicated to the US Open. A reporter was interviewing Stephan Nordstrom, who had made it through in straight sets to the final against Noah.

His face and his deep authoritative voice immediately captivated Eloise, and her belly pulled tight at the sight of him.

The only thing that distracted her was the buzz at the door as the concierge delivered a message to her room. The gold-embossed envelope announced that it was from the one and only Caesar.

Dear Eloise,

This message is to inform you that should Stephan Nordstrom win the US Open, he will immediately become Number One in the ATP men’s rankings. Arrangements will be made for your transfer to him within twenty-four hours of the end of the match, should he agree to this. Should Noah Levique win the final, there will be no change in ranking and you will remain assigned to Ivan Borisov until otherwise notified.

You may wish to acquaint yourself with the copy of your contract that I have included with this letter. My solicitor has highlighted the specific clauses you would be expected to uphold should such a transfer of Mastership occur.

My driver will pick you up from reception at 3pm tomorrow to escort you to my private suite at Arthur Ashe Stadium so we can enjoy this momentous match together.

May the best man win.

Caesar

As Eloise placed the note from Caesar on the desk in her suite, sounds of the interview with Stephan echoed in the background. She had signed up to Caesar’s game of human chess, and now he was making his next move. The thought that she was merely his pawn sent shudders down her spine, though she couldn’t decide whether they were from excitement or fear.

She wondered whether Noah had any hope at all against the formidable Stephan Nordstrom. She sent her friend a text message, congratulating him on reaching the finals and wishing him the very best of luck.

On the spur of the moment, she decided to quickly dress and go out to source a snow dome from one of the tourist shops to commemorate the occasion. She chose a dome featuring New York’s skyline, with King Kong holding a large tennis racquet on top of the Empire State Building. The ever-helpful concierge kindly organised its express delivery to Noah’s hotel and she once again cherished the memories of the special week they’d shared.

The next afternoon Eloise ensured she was impeccably attired for meeting with Caesar. She prepared with the same fastidious care as she had always done for the stage, and felt suitably glamorous as she was escorted into the enormous luxury limousine waiting for her.

Looking out at the stadium from Caesar’s private suite, she felt like she was in a bubble, not really part of the commotion of the crowd but still able to sense its raw energy. It was a far cry from the polite decorum on display at Wimbledon – the spectators nowhere near as homogenised, most of them flamboyantly showing off their uniqueness. Music was blaring from the speakers; some people were smoking joints, entwined in each other’s arms; others were jiving to the sounds on their headphones. You could literally feel the vibrant pulse of New York City pumping through your body. On her way to join Caesar she’d even passed a couple of brawling men who were in the process of being escorted out of the stadium by security.

Despite feeling a little removed from the action, she was glad to be witnessing the commotion from safely behind tinted glass panels, in air-conditioned comfort. Otherwise she could easily have believed she was in a modern-day Colosseum, awaiting the arrival of lions and gladiators.

This thought made her immediately aware of what was at stake, the dichotomy of her feelings causing her muscles to tense in anticipation of what the result might be. Though she would love for Noah to win, she couldn’t deny her personal desire for a change in her own circumstances; after the coldness of Ivan a new Number One would be more than welcome.

The reality was that her life could be vastly different in a matter of hours, depending on who won this match, and it finally hit her with such force that she inadvertently lost her grip on the crystal glass of Krug. A waiter arrived swiftly at her side, offering another before cleaning up the expensive mess she had made.

Caesar watched her every move from the corner of the room like a hawk sitting on a perch. She truly was a beauty to behold; there was no denying her attractiveness to every male in her midst, even those more than double her age, like himself. But Eloise was far too innocent a creature for him; these days, his relationships with women meant only sex, never love. Besides he despised the look of older men with much younger women hanging off their arms. He thought them pathetic and believed such relationships merely provided an entrée to financial grief.

There had only ever been one true love in Caesar’s life, and that had been many, many years ago. Even though the relationship had been brief, his heart had been crushed so completely he had never recovered enough to trust or love another woman again.

However, it didn’t stop him from admiring the graceful curves beneath Eloise’s pale pink wrap-around dress. One could never deny she was a ballerina; it was just that today she wore a more elegant outfit, appropriate to the circumstances.

Caesar found himself reflecting that it was a shame his father wasn’t here; he’d always appreciated beauty, even though he’d never really respected women. (This remained a sore point between father and son – though Caesar had to admit he was growing more cynical about relationships himself these days.)

The relentless onset of Alzheimer’s ensured that Antonio King was now essentially a prisoner within the grounds of his Sussex mansion, under the constant care of Nurse Victoria. Caesar tried to mask the constant worry he carried for his father, his ever-present poker face allowing him to effectively shield his true feelings from others. Winning substantial amounts of money always proved an excellent distraction for Caesar, so whenever his emotions threatened him, he deliberately increased the stakes, hoping the euphoria of winning would provide the ultimate high and deaden the feeling of loneliness that sometimes seeped through.

More than his many other business dealings, his intriguing Number One Strategy was proving an excellent tonic for his emotional state. The smile returned to his face as he considered the money he had made already, knowing that was only a pittance compared with what was to come, particularly after today’s match was won.

And Eloise was just where he wanted her for this momentous match. She was ever discreet and softly spoken in conversation – features he always appreciated in a woman yet rarely found – but he was fascinated that she had mentioned nothing to him of her week in London with Noah. He wondered if she honestly believed he wasn’t aware of her every move on any given day.

He sighed inwardly. She might be beautiful, but she was still so young and unworldly. Even so, as long as she honoured her end of the deal, he would always honour his.

In the meantime, however, there was far too much at stake for her to be roaming around aimlessly as she had been with Noah Levique – of all people – when Ivan disappeared into an emotional hole after his loss at Wimbledon. Caesar’s sources had mentioned nothing of a relationship between Noah and Eloise before she was offered the contract. Only time would tell if she was being secretive or merely naive in her actions; he didn’t know her well enough yet to say. But either way, if she honestly believed her contract with him allowed her that much freedom – with a tennis player he didn’t represent, no less – she was sorely mistaken. This was the sort of inside information he depended on – indeed, was betting on, and not insignificantly! It was time to stalk his prey a little more closely …

‘Lovely to see you again, Eloise. How are you?’

‘Very well, thanks, Caesar. And you?’

‘Couldn’t be better. Nothing more exciting than the potential changing of the guard, don’t you think?’ There was a twinkle in his eyes as he said the words and nodded to the waiter to refill her glass.

Talking to Caesar when her life could be about to change was making Eloise nervous, so she made a deliberate attempt to remain as polite and calm as possible, carefully considering her answers before she spoke.

‘How have things been with Ivan?’ he asked.

‘Well, as you’d be aware, he hasn’t quite been himself since the loss at Wimbledon, and now with his injury and all …’

‘I know. Poor chap, things haven’t gone his way recently. So what’s been keeping you occupied?’

Eloise’s nerves shifted a gear but fortunately her voice remained steady.

‘Taking in the sights; there’s always plenty to do in New York.’

She offered nothing more, and he decided to let the matter rest, for now. ‘Indeed there is. So tell me, what are your thoughts on these two players?’

‘I’m no expert on tennis, Caesar; you’d know far better than I would.’

He silently congratulated her on her answer: sticking to generalities rather than getting personal. Perhaps she had more intelligence than he’d given her credit for.

‘Yes, yes, quite right.’ He chuckled. ‘Then let me phrase my question more succinctly. Would you prefer a change, or for your circumstances to remain as they are?’

She paused before answering, unsure of what he was hoping to hear. ‘My preference is irrelevant, Caesar. I will accept whatever happens; that’s the commitment I’ve made.’

‘I’m very pleased to hear that you’re taking the contract as seriously as I am. I’m not one for deviations once something has been agreed. Enjoy the game, Eloise; heaven knows I shall.’

With a clink of his glass and a cheerful wink that belied the veiled threat in his words, he excused himself to go and chat with his other guests as the pre-match tension rose steadily around them.

The knots in Eloise’s stomach tightened as the two players entered the stadium and applause instantly erupted. Noah came out first, and the crowd enthusiastically welcomed the new kid on the block. Though he was smiling and waving, everyone could sense his nervousness at being in his first grand-slam final. Eloise beamed with pride, hoping he’d received her message and small gift. Caesar didn’t miss a single twitch of her expressive face from the other side of the room.

The cheering changed when Stephan Nordstrom appeared on the court, sporting his sponsored Maui Jim sunglasses. The newly appointed tennis superstar acknowledged the crowd with a brief nod before immediately getting down to the business of ensuring the brands of his clothes, racquets and even his drink bottles were facing the right way for maximum exposure. It took three attempts for him to find the racquet with the perfect string tension, then he carefully placed the other two back in his sponsored sports bag, ensuring they were in the exact position he wanted them. Some might have called him obsessive–compulsive – and many had, often – but the sponsors Caesar had secured on his behalf would handsomely reward such meticulousness.

Once these actions were performed, he sat perfectly still, more focused than a neurosurgeon about to make his first incision. It was as if the crowd no longer existed in his mind. The look on his face made it clear that Nordstrom was here for one reason only.

To dominate and to win.

Eloise’s nerves electrified as she was torn between her excitement at the prospect of a new Number One particularly a Swedish god like Stephan – and wanting to protect her gorgeous Noah from such a tour de force. Though beaming at Noah, she found herself drawn to Stephan, wondering if he was as domineering in person as he was on court. She watched in awe along with thousands of other fans as he sat trance-like in his seat before the announcer summoned the players onto the court for their warm-up.

Eloise desperately hoped the knot in her stomach would ease when play commenced.

Nothing could have been further from the truth.

Transition

The entire match lasted a little over an hour – much to the disappointment of the crowd, some of whom had paid a small fortune just to witness a wipeout.

There was no opportunity for Eloise to find Noah and offer her condolences on losing so catastrophically in straight sets. Realistically, she had no idea how she could even have attempted to locate him, given the security around the stadium. Since her brief conversation with Caesar she had sensed he was watching her every move, so she didn’t even dare send a message to Noah in case he showed up and aroused Caesar’s suspicions further.

Caesar’s people ensured she was escorted directly back to the hotel to await further instructions. Once again, she felt like an object in Caesar’s world – a world where he oversaw her every move until the transition was complete. She was sure that, had she attempted to leave the premises, she would have been prevented.

She tried to call Noah when she was finally alone but went straight through to his voicemail. She left a message telling him she was sorry but reassuring him that it was only the first of many grand-slam finals to come. She couldn’t help but think that perhaps eliminating smoking from his lifestyle might guarantee better success, but she didn’t dare say it!

After meeting up with Ivan for a platonic yet warm goodbye, she was informed of the request for her to be in the hotel boardroom at 9pm to meet Stephan Nordstrom.

Eloise felt like she was in limbo. So to keep her thoughts and emotions at bay, she went for a long swim in the hotel pool. After which, she prepared herself, dressing simply and elegantly in a black cocktail dress and heels, her hair pulled into a low chignon.

At 8.50pm there was a sharp knock on the door of her suite. A suited man, no doubt one of Caesar’s entourage, silently escorted her to the boardroom. The butterflies in her stomach were as violent as they’d been before her first performance as Principal.

She sat demurely with her eyes lowered while Caesar’s lawyers negotiated with Stephan’s. As the paperwork was signed and exchanged, every fibre of her being could sense Stephan’s wild excitement as he courteously pulled back her chair from the boardroom table. As she stood, she looked up to meet his intense gaze as his steely-blue eyes feasted on her petite form and the dynamic between them intensified. Stephan’s dominance on the court was nothing compared to meeting the man himself – and it took her breath away, literally – as the electricity between them was undeniable to everyone in the room.

‘So, tomorrow morning, then, I shall see you at the Waldorf?’ His eyebrows rose in question, as if not quite believing this extraordinary situation to be real.

‘Yes, sir,’ she responded quietly, knowing even as she uttered the words that her relationship with this Number One would be entirely different from her distant relations with Ivan.

‘I shall await your arrival with pleasure.’

A delicious shiver ricocheted to the core of her belly at the prospect of what was to come. If his words had that effect on her, then who knew what impact his touch might have …

As if sensing her body’s response, he guided her out the door with a sudden smile.

It was rare for Stephan to agree to a meeting straight after a match – particularly one involving his lawyers – but when Caesar’s letter had arrived requesting a private audience at Stephan’s earliest convenience, he’d accepted immediately. Since signing with The Edge, his success both on and off the court had grown exponentially. So Caesar was the last person he’d decline to meet; after all, Caesar was to tennis what the Pope was to Catholicism. However, to say Stephan was anything less than dumbfounded at the private discussion he’d had with the great man right before meeting Eloise would be a lie.

Stephan’s celebrations that evening after his third grand-slam victory were tinged with unexpected visions of what his future might hold given Caesar’s ‘bequest’ of Eloise Lawrance. Stephan had never been with a professional ballet dancer, but had he met one as exquisite as Eloise, he’d have rectified that situation immediately.

After he’d laid eyes on the enigmatic Eloise, the bevy of inane beauties who accompanied him for drinks at the hip Ling Ling Bar at Hakkasan Restaurant didn’t quite have the desired effect on his usually virile libido. Not that it seemed to bother the leggy blondes and brunettes, as long as the zesty martinis kept flowing between their ready lips and the eager photographers captured their image as they partied with the man who would adorn the front pages in the morning.

Two of them accompanied him back to his suite just beyond midnight. But instead of enjoying the ménage à trois as he usually would, Stephan found himself distracted by the sight of the milky limbs and innocent aquamarine eyes gazing at him from the portfolio Caesar had left with him. As soon as the girls had finished blowing him – a perfunctory experience at best – he called for Garry, who managed his security and his life, to escort them out. He and Garry exchanged a look that suggested Stephan would have no problem should Garry want to enjoy the sexual delights the ladies had to offer.

To the best of his understanding of Caesar’s proposition, Eloise would be on loan to him, for his personal use, so long as he retained the ATP ranking of Number One. Her role in his life was to be discussed and mutually agreed between them. A bizarre arrangement, but he had no wish to argue after their introduction last night.

For the first time in a very long time, he was excited about something other than tennis. It was no surprise that sleep came to him like a steam train after such an eventful day.

Perfect

The next morning Stephan dismissed his staff from his suite at the Waldorf, to ensure the privacy he wanted with this stunning ballet dancer. He needed to understand more intimately the machinations of this highly unusual relationship.

‘Eloise! Come in, please,’ he called as her polite knock was heard at the door.

As soon as pleasantries were exchanged, they both settled onto the lounge, looking out at the most impressive cityscape in the world. Eloise sat demurely in a pale blue jersey dress and beige peeptoe court shoes. Stephan spread his arms wide across the lounge, looking exactly like the Scandinavian sports god his publicists liked to suggest he was. His striped blue and white shirt seemed startlingly bright against his tanned skin, and sat taut across his broad chest and shoulders. For Eloise, his presence in the room was even more dominating than on either the court or the screen as he took up at least three times the space she did.

Stephan was not one for small talk, so he wasted no time in getting to the point.

‘So, let me get this straight: you are apparently mine, as long as I retain the Number One position.’

‘That is correct, sir.’

‘And we are to mutually agree on the role you will play in my life?’

She nodded.

‘Please answer me directly.’

She raised her eyes to look directly into his from beneath her lids; he was a completely different species from Ivan, and Noah for that matter …

‘Yes, sir,’ she responded. ‘It is important that I understand your expectations and boundaries in order for our relationship to work.’

‘I see. Then I suppose you should know my life is about two things, Eloise: perfection and control.’ He paused to gauge her reaction. ‘Let me be clear. Domination is my life. Winning is my world.’

Shivers raced through Eloise from head to toe as his words resonated deep within her, and although she made a concerted effort to hide her reaction, it was without success.

A satisfied smile stretched across his lips as he noticed her muscles quiver at his words; her eyes remaining steadfastly fixed to one spot on the floor. His groin instantly reacted to the sexual tension between them.

It had caught him off guard that she was even more appealing in person than her photos had suggested. He loved her prim English accent, with the merest hint of Australian casualness to it. Her lithe body with her toned curves seemed to be begging to be stroked. The discipline she maintained over herself as she tried to rein in her reaction to him caused him no end of arousal.

She was perfect. And he worshipped perfection.

‘Do you think you can handle that?’

‘I hope I can always rise to a challenge, sir.’

‘Do you understand what I am saying?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I sensed as much.’ He paused thoughtfully, rubbing his chin between his thumb and forefinger. It was a rare experience for him to be so entranced by a woman. ‘I would expect your total honesty in all aspects of our relationship. Can you agree to that?’

‘I can, sir.

‘Excellent. Tell me about the relationship you had with Ivan, your previous Master.’

‘I danced for him, sir. Before every match he played, and sometimes afterwards.’

‘That’s it? Nothing else?’

‘Nothing else, sir, no.’

Stephan was astonished by this revelation. He found it almost impossible to believe any man could keep his hands off such a sexual delicacy. Perhaps the rumours floating round about Borisov’s sexuality were true …

‘And you were content with that, given the other conditions outlined in your contract?’

Stephan noticed the slight shift in her body language and the rose colour that flushed her cheeks before she answered.

‘Meeting his wishes made me content, sir.’

‘Answer me honestly, Eloise. What if he had wanted more?’

‘I would have given him more, sir,’ she replied simply and honestly.

Stephan ran his fingers through his thick, sculpted blond hair. He wasn’t used to the array of emotions his body was experiencing, wild and confused. He needed to take control of himself immediately.