Clay's Unwanted Blondie

Chapter 14

♥⁠╣CLAY╠⁠♥

"AMERICANS LIKE THIS ONE"

Sure. If by Americans he meant, seventy something old retirees who thought that polo shirts and cargo shorts would make up for the ton of shit they'd done in their youth then yes, American grandpas liked golf.

Clay hated golf. Like how every stereotypical men out there thought, golf wasn't a sport. Neither was tennis but for the respect he had for Serena Williams and her talent; tennis was almost alright-almost.

"Hole in one", Park raved about, swinging his golf club hard enough it almost cost the servant standing beside him, a left eye.

"Impressive", Clay retorted unenthusiastically.

He'd never been one to lose even in a game as meager as golf but his head wasn't in it.

No, his head conjured up thoughts that bothered him in the worst ways.

Strawberry taste.

Lavender and apples scent.

Skin so smooth and pure that the thought of touching her again made him feel dirty, as if he'd defile her.

And damn it, his body dared him to do so. Fuck her, move on with the rest of the plan. But his mind, the part of his body that still had scruples, warned him against it.

It was one thing fucking a woman. He did that all the time but it was another thing fucking your fiance's sister. Fiance or not, he wanted and loved Calandria.

He didn't want to ruin that by giving in to feral emotions of wanting to kiss Brooklyn's lips again and again till-

Christ, that kiss!

He'd kissed her to prove that their fake relationship was real but also to provoke her. To rile her up.

Hours later he was the one getting riled up after her scent clung to him like gum on an old shoe sole.

"Cervantes, your turn", Park handed him the thin metallic club for another swing and he hated agreeing to come to a golf course in the first place.

The club in his hands, he'd barely made it to where the ball was when his phone buzzed against his ridiculous white shorts.

An unknown number.

It might have been Ryder with an update on Kim So Jong or Cayon. Or his secretary. Frankly it could have been his grandmother for all he cared because then he would get out of the game by insisting he had to take a call.

Turning to Park and with a face of slight disappointment, he said,

"I have to take this. It's urgent"

"Take all time you need"

Within minutes he was off the course as he picked up the phone.

"Hello?" A female?

"Hello? Clay Cervantes?"

"Yes. Who's this?"

Silence fell on the other end of the line and he would have hung up before he heard screeching sounds and a few reshuffling of things.

"Clay fucking Cervantes? I swear if...Carter stop, gimme the phone...if something happens to Brooke, I'll chop off your balls, grill them and feed 'em to my pet piranhas. How could you--God damn it, Carter!

Hello? Clay Cervantes? Um...I have no time to apologize for him. Is Brooke there with you?"

Alarm and confusion reined in but he stayed as neutral as ever.