Keeping My Promise

Copyright 2024 - Jordan Fuller

This story features cheating and revenge. If this does not appeal, please move along.

At the end of the day, it's just a story. Enjoy!

Keeping my Promise

I stare out of the rear window of our taxi as it snakes through London's West End. Gone are the cramped, grungy streets of South London. Here, the streets are lined with leafy trees, houses for only the wealthiest, interspersed with modern apartment blocks for the millionaire up-and-comers.

The taxi slows in front of a grand, stately building that appears to have been plucked from the pages of a history book. It stands tall and proud, its ornate windows glinting in the early evening sun.

"Can't believe they converted this building to apartments," the taxi driver says. "I've always loved this building."

After tapping his card to pay, Brad jumps out of the taxi.

He leans down to look at his reflection in the taxi window. "How do I look?" he asks as I step out.

"Geez, Brad, you've asked me five times tonight. You look good, alright?"

"Are you sure?"

"What are you going to do if I say no? It'd be a bit late now, wouldn't it?" I say, grabbing the back of his belt and dragging him away from his makeshift mirror.

"Yeah, all right. We can't all look amazing all the time, like you."

Brad pats my ass and whistles, "Take a look at these apartments, babe. We'll get one like this when I make it to the Premier League, too."

I take his hand, and we walk towards the apartment block. A concierge, dressed in a black uniform, opens one of the two large glass-and-wood doors. He looks us over, his eyes lingering a moment too long on my skirt before returning to my face. He gives me a warm smile, which I return, and we walk inside.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I started dating a footballer, but I quickly found out. It's a bit of a tradition I had to adopt when I married Brad. There is always a celebration when one of the guys signs with a new team, and tonight is no exception. Most of these signing parties are a rowdy affair. Hopefully, tonight will be different. This time it's Jake throwing the party, so I feel slightly more relaxed. Now that he's made it big and signed a £100 million contract to play goalie for a London Premier League team, he's celebrating tonight with teammates, old and new. However, if I know Jake, the atmosphere won't be as riotous as usual.

Jake was the best man, or rather Brad's best man, at our wedding. Growing up and playing football together, Brad and Jake have been great friends for years. They are as close as brothers. Maybe closer. Not that they have much in common. Jake is ridiculously tall and handsome. Brad is not much taller than me, but what he lacks in size, he makes up for in energy. Jake is the laid-back, suave, and quiet type, but he always has a way with the ladies. Brad is loud, super fun, and always the life of the party. It's his fun-loving nature that made me fall in love with him.

Brad wanders over to look at the beautiful bronze statue of a ballerina in the middle of the foyer. He runs his hand down the ballerina's back.

"They'll make one of these with my name on it one day, babe," Brad says.

"You'll have to start dancing first, Brad."

"No, you know what I mean. A footballer. They'll put it outside Wembley."

"Yeah, well. There's nothing wrong with chasing your dream."

"Hi, we're here for Jake Hardy's party," Brad tells the concierge.

"Of course, Sir, right this way," he says, pointing towards the elevators. "There are quite a number of guests here already," he says before wishing us a pleasant evening.

When the doors close, I check myself in the elevator's mirrored wall. "This skirt isn't too short, is it?" I ask Brad. "I noticed the concierge checking it out."

"What are you going to do if I say yes?" Brad says with a grin. "Besides, I think it's your legs he was looking at."

I think back to the last time I saw Jake. It was Tanner's engagement party more than six months ago in Manchester. Jake's been living in Newcastle for the past year, so we rarely see him. Hopefully, that will change now he's back in London.

"Hey, come on in, guys," Jake says as he greets us at the door of his new penthouse apartment.

"Wow! "Look at this pad, man," Brad says as he slaps Jake on the shoulder. Jake is 6'10", so this is no easy task.

"I told you, Brad. I'd make it one day," Jake says.

"You're right, man. You did it. But I never believed you. You were shit in seventh grade," Brad scoffs.

For a brief moment, I watch their verbal joust. Something they always do when greeting. A boy thing, no doubt.

Brad swaggers past Jake. His attention fixed directly in front of him and into the crowded penthouse. Jake turns to me, shrugging his shoulders, and laughs. We both know what he's like.

"Come on in, Lucy," Jake says, bending to kiss each of my cheeks tenderly. "It's so great to see you."

Thank God I put my heels on. He's so tall. I put my hands around his chest and give him a quick hug. He feels solid and much bigger than I remember.

"Thanks Jake. I'm not sure if I'll see Brad again," I say, shaking my head.

Jake turns to see where Brad has gone, but he's nowhere to be seen. He's disappeared into one of the many groups standing around chatting.

"Well, I'm pretty confident he'll be at the bar," Jake says with a smile.

"Or with a busty blonde," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Nah, he's got one of those," Jake winks at me.

I feel a warm flush spread through my face and neck, and I poke his ribs. "Don't you pick on me, too. I had enough trouble from Brad before we came out," I laugh. "He wanted me to wear something even lower cut. I'm practically spilling out of this top as it is."

Jake laughs. "Don't worry, I'm the best catcher in the game," he whispers. "Besides, you look spectacular."

I flush even more at his teasing flattery and punch him lightly on the arm in response. "Men! You are all the same!" I say. God, he is gorgeous, though, and feels ripped through that black shirt. The light in the room throws hard shadows across his jawline.

"Hey, I was just kidding," Jake says. He throws his head back and gives me a warm smile, then puts a giant hand on the small of my back and walks with me to the catered bar. "Come on, Luce. Let's get you a drink."

I'm married, and this is a friend of Brad's. I should not have these thoughts about him, but Jake's smile makes me swoon.

*You can window-shop all you like, as long as you don't sample the goods*, my friend Gemma always says.

I hate that it feels so good when he touches my arm or brushes his fingers against mine. I feel like I am betraying Brad. I also know Jake's reputation as a complete womanizer. Still, he knows I am with Brad and is always decent with me, apart from some innocent flirting.

When we get to the bar, he leans across, talking to the barman. I turn and rest back against the bar and take in the room. It's filled with other team members, old and new, a few girlfriends I recognize, and a bounty of young women. Brad assured me that the guys were all bringing girlfriends, but most of these guys are young, fit, and very wealthy. Few can commit beyond a first date, so there are plenty of girls but not so many girlfriends. I bagged the only one that could commit, and sometimes I have doubts about that.

The decor in Jake's apartment is either very minimalist, or he just hasn't finished decorating. I've never been to any of Jake's places before, but I take him as a minimalist kind of guy. The music has a chilled-house vibe, and a group dances on the vast balcony.

"This is a great place," I say, looking around the room.

"Yeah, I'm pretty pleased with it. I'm happy I got to return to London and the club is great. So, I'm enjoying life," Jake says, handing me a drink.

"Well, congrats on the new place," I say, raising my glass. I take a sip.

"Gin and tonic?" I ask. "That's my favorite. How did you know?"

"Last Christmas. Actually, the year before, I think. We were all at a club in Soho. You told me then," he says, raising his glass to mine.

I shake my head at him. "Do you remember Brad's favorite drink though?"

"Who?" he laughs.

I'm always surprised when I see Jake. His face is usually streaked with sweat from a game and covered in mud and grass stains. I guess it's funny to think about a giant like him being so devilishly handsome.

"You should let me show you all of my apartment," he says.

God, he's a tease. "Easy, tiger," I say.

"Well, I have a roof garden that overlooks the city," he continues. "You'll have to come up and see it someday."

"I'd love to," I say.

Just then, someone jostles him from behind, and he jerks forward towards me, his glass bumping mine, splashing a little of my drink onto my chest.

Oh fuck, oh fuck.

"Hey, careful buddy," Jake says to the guy behind.

"Sorry, Jake," the hidden assailant says.

"Are you okay?" he asks me.

I hold my drink up in my right hand, my clutch bag in my left, and shrug. We both look at the splashed liquid on my chest.

"I need to find somewhere to put these," I say.

"Hold on. I've got it."

Jake reaches over to the bar behind him and grabs a napkin.

"May I?" he says, raising the napkin toward my chest.

I nod without thinking, and he dabs the napkin on the top of my breasts. His eyes remain on mine while he does it.

When he finishes dabbing at me with the napkin, he looks down and dabs once more, before looking back into my eyes again with a smile on his face so genuine that it reaches his eyes and pushes his cheeks up into a boyish grin that would make any girl melt into a puddle.

"I think you got it all. Thank you," I say. I feel like a giddy teenager. "I really ought to find that husband of mine. Besides, you're the host, and you should mingle more."

Just as I finish saying that, a roar of laughter comes from the balcony, followed by Brad yelling, "Jake, get over here!"

Jake rolls his eyes and says to me under his breath, "Oh god. I know what this will be about."

I have no idea and shrug.

"I have a new sponsorship deal with Hugo Boss," he says. "We filmed a promotion a couple of weeks ago, and there's a massive digital billboard you can see a couple of blocks over. Right on cue, they started my advertisement in the rotation the day I moved in."

I can't help but laugh. "Okay, I have to see this."

I follow Jake as he walks through the apartment onto the balcony with everyone else.

"Let him through, people, let him through," Brad yells jokingly.

I follow Jake out onto the balcony. Most people cannot fit and stand on their toes to see what the fuss is about.

I squeeze through to stand with Brad. He drapes his arms over my shoulders. "Are you flirting with my wife again, Jake?"

"Always, Brad. You know me," Jake says.

I stand on my toes to see the billboard. There is a promotion for a new James Bond film playing. "Is this worth all the fuss?" I ask Brad.

"Just wait," he laughs.

"Here it comes," yells someone.

"Hurraaahhhhh," the boys all cheer as the billboard changes to a scene of a muscular man swimming in the ocean at sunset. Various ridiculous scenes of wild horses running through the waves follow, then finally, Jake emerges from the sea wearing not very much. Holy crap, he looks fantastic. He is far more muscular than I imagined. He is ripped and dripping with water.

"Great CGI," one guy shouts, getting laughs from the men.

"Bloody hell, Jake," says a girl next to me.

I turn to see her boyfriend putting his hands over her eyes. "Okay, women back inside, I think," he says.

"Okay, okay, show's over," Jake shouts. "I am suitably embarrassed. I need a stronger drink."

Brad wraps an arm around me and leads me back inside. "Drink?"

I raise my glass. "A gentleman already bought me one."

"Well, I need another. Wait here to avoid crowding the bar," he says as he bolts for the bar before everyone gets back in.

I roll my eyes but know I've always been the second fiddle to a beer.

I take a moment to admire Jake's apartment. It is super lovely, but I suppose that's what £150k a week gets you. I wave to Brad, indicating I'm going over to the other side of the room. I peruse various photos Jake has on the wall of him as a kid. He looks like a beanpole in some pictures. He obviously shot up early.

"Hi, Lucy," a voice says from behind.

"Err, Gary... Hi," I say, trying not to let my displeasure show.

Gary Price. One of Brad's teammates at his current club. He first asked me out when we were about seventeen. I think he's asked me again about six hundred times, including since I've been married. Married to his friend, I might add.

"You look stunning," he says.

"Thank you, Gary," I say. "Is your girlfriend here?"

"Noooo," he says slowly. "Still available if you're interested though," he adds, his eyes drifting down to my cleavage.

I hold my left hand up with the ring facing him.

"Sorry, Gary. I'm married. To Brad. Him," I point at Brad, who has now headed out onto the balcony again and has an arm around a gorgeous brunette. "You should have asked me earlier, Gary," I say with more than a hint of sarcasm.

Fucking Brad. I will fucking kill him. I want to scream. He heads to the bar, then leaves me alone and chats up another woman.

It's not that Gary is a bad guy. He's not, and like most footballers, he's super fit, but he bores the tits off me and doesn't seem to grasp that I am not interested.

But it's better than standing alone, so I chat with Gary while Brad drinks Jake's bar dry. As I'm chatting, I can't help but watch Brad across the apartment. It's as if I am not even here, and I notice his hand drop from the brunette's back down to her ass, and I've had enough. I'm just about to go steaming over there to kill both of them when I see Jake intercept Brad and pull him away to the balcony's edge. I stop and watch, and some strong words are clearly being said. Brad looks sheepish and raises both hands like he's surrendering, and I'm confident Jake is reminding Brad that I am here and keeping him in line.

"Everything alright?" Gary asks, seemingly oblivious to what just happened.

"Err, yeah," I say. "Yeah, everything's fine."

God, I just want to get out of here. Brad has killed my good mood.

Gary turns and looks at Brad and senses my mood. "Brad being a naughty boy again, is he?"

"What do you mean by 'again'?" I ask him, gesturing air quotes.

"Ah, no, it's nothing," Gary says, back-peddling. "You know Brad. He's always the lad,"

"No. I don't know, Gary. Tell me what being the lad is?" I snap, and suddenly, I am fuming again.

"Gary," Jake says, approaching. "Do you mind if I cut in and steal Lucy away from you for a few minutes?"

Jake stands intimidatingly close to Gary, whose neck practically folds to look up at Jake.

"Lucy, want to dance?" Jake says, holding a hand out and not even bothering to wait for a response from Gary.

Before I can answer, Gary turns and heads away.

"You don't dance," I say to him with a grin.

He acts a couple of exaggerated dance moves, and I can't help but laugh again.

"Hmm, you remember that, do you?" He says.

"Yeah, something about not being able to just blend into the masses when you're six foot-ten or something like that," I say.

Jake laughs. "Excellent memory. I am the worst dancer you have ever seen. And yeah, at my height, everyone sees it. Now, come on, let me show you that roof garden."

He puts his hand on my back again, guiding me towards a far door. I can feel the heat of his hand, even through my top.

I notice Gary walking to the bar fumbling with his phone.

"Thank you for rescuing me," I say as we walk out and head towards some stairs.

"Yeah, I remember you saying Gary's always had a thing for you and never gets the message," he says, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Not what I was talking about, but that too."

"Ahh, Brad. Don't worry. He's a good guy, just got a bit over-excited."

"Hmm," I nod. "Sometimes I wonder if he gets over-excited often."

There's an awkward silence, and Jake seems stuck for words for once. We walk quietly up the last few steps when he opens the door. The soft breeze of the evening flows through from outside, causing me to instantly get goosebumps.

"Too cold?" he asks, noticing my skin's reaction.

I shake my head and laugh nervously. "No, it's nice. Just a reaction to the temperature change," I say, stepping outside.

"Wow!" I say, taking in the clear, starlit sky. I wander about the roof garden taking in the sights of London, then stare into the sparkling night sky. It's beautiful, and I can't believe I'm in the center of London.

"Pretty amazing, huh?" Jake says, walking over to me and bringing me out of my reverie. "I didn't even know this was here when I viewed the apartment."

We walk to the edge of the building and look out at the London skyline.

"Cheers," he says, holding up his glass. I chink my glass to his.

"So why haven't I ever seen you with a prospective Mrs Jake?" I ask.

His eyes widen, and he sips his drink. "Ahh, you know," he says, avoiding my gaze. "Look, I know you and Brad fell in love and got married early and that's awesome, but well, it's not the right time for me. Not yet, anyway."

I laugh. "Why isn't it the right time for you?" I say, walking with him along the edge of the roof.

He looks awkward momentarily, then says, "Well, there was one girl I wanted, but she's found love elsewhere so I had to make different plans. I'm young, playing football, and earning some money. I like to get out and have some fun. You know?"

I laugh again. "Hmm, I get the picture." I say. "Brad never told me there was a love interest for you. You keeping secrets, Jake?"

He laughs nervously. "Yeah, Brad doesn't know. Some secrets are not for sharing."

"So playing the field is your backup plan then is it?" I say, elbowing him playfully to lighten the mood.

"That's a succinct way of putting it. I'm just having some fun."

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the waist-high wall, and watch the boats on the river. "I think Brad and I may have gotten married too soon."

"Nah, you two are great together," he says.

"Thanks. But I think Brad might still want to have some fun like you!"

* * *

#Chapter 2

Brad has an away game, so I will head up to Oxford Street with Gemma for some retail therapy, followed by a yoga session. Then tonight, Gemma is coming around for dinner and wine until Brad gets home.

However, first a shower.

Ding! - my phone chimes a new message.

I rub away the steam on the glass to see if I can see who it's from, but it's just a generic message.

I carry on with my shower.

Ding - another message.

Ding - again!

Fuck me. Someone wants me pretty badly.

I finish up my shower quickly. I expect it will either be Gemma to say something has come up and she can't make it or Brad to tell me he scored.

Stepping out of the shower, I wrap a giant towel around me and another around my hair. I lean against the sink and pick up my phone.

Message from an unknown sender.

I click the message to open it.

"I'm having fun!"

It's Brad.

I don't know why the sender is unknown, but I know it's him.

Bing.

I look at the following message.

"Again."

I shiver like someone stepped on my grave.

"That's good, love. I hope you're behaving!" I type and click send.

Bing.

"Not really."

What? What the fuck does he mean, 'Not really'?

"You fucking better be behaving!" I reply.

I shake my head. Is he taking the piss?

I keep shaking my head.

Bing.

I pause.

I'm so angry I cannot open the message. I stand up and walk to the mirror to do my makeup.

My heart is racing. I know I need to open it. I'm being stupid. He's just teasing me about some silly game.