God Of football

Chapter 887: Persistence.

”It’s just like you said,” Izan said, finally looking at Miranda, who just smirked matter-of-factly.

”They came and they came big!”

.....

[Previously, on the Flas-, I mean God Of Football]

The day before the Club World Cup final, Izan arrived at the hotel where Miranda, Komi, Hori, and Olivia were staying.

The lobby was bustling with the usual hum of chatter and rolling luggage, but he spotted Miranda immediately.

She was leaning against the railing of the mezzanine, phone in hand, her posture poised but impatient.

”Izan,” she said, tilting her head as he approached.

”Come with me.”

He followed her through the lobby, the weight of curiosity pressing heavier than his overnight bag.

”Where’s Komi?” he asked quietly as they turned towards an elevator.

”At the spa,” Miranda replied disinterestedly.

”With Olivia and Hori. They thought they deserved some quiet before tomorrow.”

Izan let out a small chuckle.

”Makes sense,” he said.

Then he gestured toward her, eyebrows raised.

”So... what’s so important and dramatic that I have to leave my hotel and trek thirty minutes to yours?”

Miranda shook her head slightly, the ghost of a smile brushing her lips.

”Please, we both know Arsenal probably let one of the vans come and drop you off. As for what, you’ll see.”

They moved through the corridors to the room she shared with Komi.

Miranda set her bag down and turned to face him, hands on her hips.

”Izan, Nike came again.”

Izan exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

”They ever get tired?”

Miranda shook her head, leaning against the doorframe.

”No, they do not. In fact, this is the only time I’m making you aware after the mega contract with Adidas was signed, because they have been coming since before. I’ve blocked them every time they tried to reach out, and they’ve been persistent. This time, they brought in the big guns.”

Izan raised an eyebrow. ”Big guns?”

Miranda nodded.

”Ben Grimm. A Top-performing lawyer from one of the best law firms in the world, Cravath, Swaine and Moore. Investor, executive at Nike. Persuasive. Dangerous in the best way.”

Izan sighed again, letting his shoulders slump.

”So they’re here to make me an offer I can’t refuse.”

”Pretty much,” Miranda said, crossing her arms, ”And with him, you might as well sign the contract.”

Izan, hearing it, just kept nodding before mouthing pretty good to Miranda and following up with a thumbs up.

Then she gave a small shake of her head.

”But it wouldn’t be smart to jump at it. Adidas’ contract has that clever little clause, you know, emergency renegotiation if a rival comes calling. That’s why we’re the winners in this deal. If Nike and Adidas go at it, the only thing that changes is how much they’re willing to match.”

Izan let out a humourless laugh.

”I’m seriously tired of all the back and forth. I feel like I negotiate terms every six months, even though every contract has a clause that says no renegotiating till after two years.”

Miranda shrugged.

”You could always reduce how good you play. Not enough to lose, just enough to calm them down.”

He groaned, rubbing his temples.

”So... we just keep quiet even after Nike approaches?”

”Not exactly quiet,” Miranda said. ”But that’s basically what we’ll do. We let the contract do its work.”

....

[Present time]

Izan now leaned on a railing, the contract folder heavy in his hands as he looked at Miranda.

”So... what do we do with this now?”

She took the file, tossing it lightly into a nearby dustbin with a faint smirk, then pulled it back out.

”Sometimes, you have to remind people that the weight they carry is just paper until you make it actionable.”

Izan stared at her, confused as she produced a small plastic bag from her tote, then her phone, scrolling through her contacts until a name appeared: Emilio Vargas.

Izan stared at her, eyebrows knitting. ”And now?”

Miranda exhaled, like she was preparing herself for a task she wasn’t thrilled about, and pressed the call button.

”Now we call Emilio Vargas,” she said, her tone carrying both resolve and reluctant regret.

The line connected immediately as a giddy voice attempted some flirting, but Miranda cut it off quickly.

”I have news for you,” she said, firm.

The tone shifted instantly on the other end.

Professional. Attentive.

”I’ll email you the details,” she continued, ”expect it in a couple of days.”

The man agreed, then asked if he could see something immediately.

With a resigned sigh, Miranda extracted the main paper from the folder, snapped a photo, and sent it.

A shriek of excitement erupted on the line, but Miranda simply ended the call.

Turning back to Izan, she said quietly, ”It would be best if we got back to London in the next few days.”

Izan raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue.

If Miranda was saying this, there was a reason, and he knew better than to question her judgment.

....

The clock nudged past five, the early evening sun slanting through the trees and casting warm stripes across the walkways of Disneyland.

Hori plopped down on a low stone wall, her face red from both the sun and pure exertion.

”I’ve had enough for today,” she groaned, kicking her legs out.

”I’m done. My legs are noodles, my arms feel like they belong to someone else, and I swear my brain has spun like a top at least ten times.”

Olivia, perched on the bench beside her, smiled but didn’t look as exhausted as she sounded.

”Come on, Hori. Don’t forget, the nighttime shows are supposed to be one of the highlights. Fireworks, music, the whole spectacle. That’s worth sticking around for.”

Hori groaned again, flopping onto her side for a dramatic effect, though Olivia couldn’t help but notice that even she, despite the adrenaline still pumping through her veins, had a subtle slump in her shoulders.

The energy was still there, but it was stretched thin.

Even Komi and Miranda, standing a few meters away, looked like they were on the verge of collapse, despite not being too physically involved like the young ones.

Hori glanced over and gave a small smirk.

”See? Even the grown-ups are tired. You’re not special, Olivia.”

Olivia chuckled lightly, brushing her hair behind her ear.

”Maybe. But trust me, you’ll want to stay for the nighttime festivities. They’re magical.”

Izan, as usual, stood apart from the tiredness that seemed to weigh everyone else down.

He exhaled softly, wrapping his arm around Olivia’s shoulder.

”We could always come back,” he said gently. ”Same place, same time, next week if you want.”

Olivia turned slightly toward him, letting a small smile tug at her lips. ”I’d like that,” she murmured, her voice soft but happy.

Hori groaned, rolling her eyes.

”We still have a driver to call.”

The family began to make their way toward the exit, weaving past souvenir stalls, the lingering scents of churros and popcorn trailing behind them as Komi fished her phone out of her bag.

A call went through, and within minutes, a car was dispatched.

”Half an hour,” Miranda muttered, shaking her head but smiling faintly.

”Perfect timing. Just enough to get everyone moving without dragging it out.”

As the sun dipped lower, the shadows stretched across the parking lot.

The car pulled up just as the family reached the edge of the lot, and soon they were sliding into their seats.

Komi leaned back, letting out a long, satisfied breath.

”I think we’re going to sleep the moment we get to the hotel.”

Miranda nodded in agreement, her hand brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Izan glanced toward them, shrugging slightly, ”Fair. Everyone deserves a rest.”

He leaned back in his seat, eyes flicking briefly out the window as they drove, taking in the fading orange glow of the sky over the park.

The car finally pulled into their hotel in LA after an hour and a half.

The quiet hum of the elevator accompanied them as they ascended, the doors sliding shut behind them with a soft click.

At the floor, the group split toward their respective rooms.

Izan and Olivia reached their door, the keycard slipping into his hand as he paused.

Olivia leaned slightly against him, her exhaustion visible now as her body sagged softly.

She took the card and stepped inside, letting the door close quietly behind her, and Izan’s phone buzzed just as the door clicked shut.

He glanced down, the contact name glowing: Liaison.

It wasn’t weird that he was getting a call from the Liaison, but now that he wasn’t with the team, it was a bit out of place.

A frown tugged at his lips, but he slid the keycard into the slot on the counter beside him and picked up the call, his other hand resting against the frame of the doorway.

Olivia, tired and content, walked into the washroom before taking off the light make-up she had worn, leaving Izan alone in the room to make the call.