The Precious Nanny | Cristiano Ronaldo

Chapter 33 - a party?

Cristiano

A few weeks later...

My head is pounding, quite literally throbbing in what could be the worst hangover I've ever experienced. All I can think about is how much I wish I'd told Ricardo no to both his devil whiskey last night and going to the party tonight. It's bound to be a disaster.

I'm performing a mental run through the various excuses I can provide to ditch him later: a late photoshoot, family emergency, volunteer works, the bubonic plague.

However, I know Ricardo probably won't buy any of them since the douchbag practically lives in my house and knows me too well to know I wouldn't necessarily spend my saturday night hosting a plague let alone a fund-raising for stray puppies.

That man will not take no for an answer.

This leaves me with a simple option to bow out of my obligation to party with him with a good old fashioned begging. As I debate if my pride can take such a catastrophic hit, I know if I say no he would bug me for as long as I'm breathing.

The past few weeks have been a what could be described as a total chaos. When I was not at the bernabeu or traveling around Spain to play, I was doing everything in my will to avoid Melissa. And for the very first time I've actually done a pretty good job at it. Although it may be hard since she's basically always around Junior, whenever she saw me approach them, she disappeared immediately.

Yesterday was the day I decided to lossen up a little, especially after the long week I just faced. What I firstly thought would be a single glass of whiskey quickly escalated to at least a whole bottle. And now I'm having to deal with this annoying headache.

"Are you OK." Estephany enquired while I slipped into a plain white shirt.

"Yeah. Fine." I lie.

"You sure?"

Why the hell is she talking to me now. Her voice is only marginally torable to the human ear. I put my fingers to my temples and apply pressure.

"I'm fine, thanks. Just not feeling great."

"Headache?"

I nod. Talking to Estephany only makes it worse.

She reaches into a large leather designer bag, adorned with colorful scarves. When I see the object in her hand, I'm sure she's lost her mind because it's a vial, then she twists the small plastic cap off of the top and the smell assaults me.

Fuck this is dreadful.

I bring my hand to my face to act as a barrier between myself and the flower that died in Estephany's glass jar.

To my complete horror she begins to wave the thing in front of me. I make a face and mumble something in protest but it's useless, she sees and hears nothing.

She continues, slowing down long enough under my nose to make my eyes water and my throat burn.

"Move your hand silly." she says. "It's lavender oil. You need to breathe it in, it will get rid of your headache."

I uncover my face enough to speak. "By making me vomit?"

"Trust me Cristiano. It works, I use this all the time."

I do as she says and inhale the putrid smelling oil as she moves it from one side of my face to another.

"Are we going to the party tonight?"

I didn't press Ricardo for details about what sort of party this was, but from the past parties he dragged me to, one thing is for sure, it will not be basic. I just nod.