Chapter 7 - Unbeatable

Getting into this Club wasn't for everyone; sometimes even having money wasn't enough. You had to drop the right name at the entrance, and I have the best one to give them. "Derek Ashford," I say to the woman up front while I adjust the sports bag on my shoulder. "He is expecting me."

"Your name, please." She says as I pull out my ID.

"Isabella Sterling." The woman behind the reception desk studies my ID like it might bite her. Polished nails, perfect posture, and a practiced expression that says she’s been trained to spot the kind of people who don’t belong. Too bad for her, I do.

Her eyes flicker from the ID to her screen. She types something, pauses, then nods once, just barely.

“Yes, Ms. Sterling. Mr. Ashford left instructions. You’re expected.”

Of course I am.

She stands, gives me a polite but not warm smile, and gestures toward the main path that curves toward the courts.

“Please follow the walkway past the garden lounge. The tennis courts are at the far end. Locker rooms are on the right if you’d like to change.”

I thank her with a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes and walk on into the locker room.

My tennis skirt is white, crisp, and perfectly tailored. My visor casts the right amount of shadow across my eyes, I walk through the gated entrance with a duffel slung over my shoulder and a knowing smile on my lips.

Derek is already waiting by the courts, racquet in hand, sunglasses on. He’s dressed in navy shorts, a white polo, sleeves pushed up just enough to remind anyone watching that he’s more than suits and boardrooms. That he plays.

His smile when he sees me is private. Not polite, not performative, just for me.

“You came,” he says.

“I said I would,” I say, my voice is light as melody. "Where is the rest of your family? You said they would be here."

"They will be, just a bit later. My sister came back today from a trip, so they stayed behind to wait for her." His sister, Aurora. The only one of the family that seems normal, perhaps because she spends most of her life away from them.

"And you didn't wait for her?" I ask, and Derek shrugs, a practiced, casual movement.

"I talk to her in the morning, she told me that if I'm so excited to see you that I shouldn't wait." This isn't something casual that just slipped out; he wanted me to know he talks about me, so I play along.

"You taled to your sister about me, why?"

"Im close with my sister, I tell her everything. If there is one person on this earth that knows me inside out, its her." Then I'll make sure to get to know her as well. Anything that helps me get closer to my goal. "Do you have siblings, Isabella?" He asks me.

"No, I... I am an only child." I am now, because of you and your family. The thought poisons my brain, and I close my fists, trying to get control over myself while forcing a smile on my face. "I'm alone in the world, except for some dear friends here and there."

"Well, I hope I enter that list of dear friends, make you feel less alone." Derek says. I let out a soft laugh, just the right kind. The kind that sounds touched but hides every sharp edge beneath it.

“I’ll let you know,” I say, brushing a speck of dust from my skirt. “Friendship’s a high bar these days.”

Derek watches me closely, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

"How about that match?" I say as I bring my racquet in front of me. "Are you prepared to lose?" I say as I poke his chest with the racquet in a playful manner.

He grins at that, cocky and effortless, stepping just close enough that the poke of the racquet lingers between them like a dare.

“Oh, I’m prepared,” he says, letting the words hang as he leans in closer.“…but I don’t lose,” Derek finishes, low and deliberate, the kind of line meant to land somewhere between flirtation and a warning.

I meet his gaze, unflinching. “That’s the problem with people like you,” I say, my voice still sweet, still featherlight. “You confuse being unchallenged with being unbeatable.”

His grin sharpens, a flash of something competitive and dangerous behind his polished charm. He likes the pushback. They all do, until it costs them.

We take our positions, and the first serve cuts through the air with the kind of power that makes people turn their heads. He returns it, of course. Derek doesn’t do anything halfway. But even he’s surprised at how fast I come for the net, how deliberately I move. This isn't just a tennis game, it's flirtation at its best. Obvious yet still not an open declaration.

By the third game, he’s pushing harder, his strokes more aggressive, his breathing heavier. I hit a spinning slice, low and fast. It skims the line. He lunges and misses.

“Game,” I say, sweet and victorious. I give him a quick smile, just enough to sting.

He tosses the ball high, catching it again with a low chuckle. “You weren't kidding, I have to admit defeat." He says as we walk over to the bench and take some water. I accept the water bottle he offers, twisting the cap slowly, deliberately.

“Admitting defeat looks good on you,” I say, taking a sip. “It seems very rare. Very refined.”

Derek leans back on the bench, one arm draped across the backrest, his racquet balanced on his knee. “Don’t get used to it. I don’t lose often.”

I tilt my head, pretending to consider that. “Neither do I.” I say as I bring myself closer to his face and his eyes drop to my lips as if enchanted.

I lean in closer, just enough to blur the boundary of personal space, and I can feel the shift in the air between us. He needs to feel me close, I need him close... it's the only way to make him fall. But I can give it to him that easily.

I lean in, close enough that he can count every lash around my eyes, close enough for his breath to hitch. He tilts his head, just slightly, as if he’s already anticipating the taste of a kiss I have no intention of giving. I put my hand on his chest and pushed back slightly, then turned away.

“I’m sorry, Derek,” I say softly, as if I mean it. As if I’m protecting him from me. “I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

He blinks, momentarily caught off balance.

“We work together,” I continue, rising to my feet and stepping away, towel draped neatly over one shoulder. “Some distance needs to be held.”

"The fact that we work together can't stand in the way of me feeling how I feel. It's as if I knew you from a past life. The moment you entered the office that day, I haven't stopped thinking about you." Good, that is what I wanted. I want you to have me always on your mind.

"I'm sure that happens to you a lot. You have quite the reputation, Derek. And I am here to work, not to play." At least not in the way you would want.

"I know the reputation I have, but that is the past; I'm just having trouble shaking it off. But I'm not that man anymore, I can't be." He says the last part with such heaviness I honestly can't tell if it's pretend or not.

"Give me a chance, get to know me past my reputation. What do you say?" He says as he takes my hand and looks into my eyes, as people come in the tennis field and stand there, watching us. The whole family of Ashfords.

"Derek, your family is here," I say as I take my hands out of his and grip my racquet while I prepare myself to meet the wolves. Can this black sheep survive them? Time will tell.