The twenty days had evaporated with the terrifying speed of a burning fuse.
For Rico and Anne, the last three weeks had felt like an isolated reality.
They had desperately tried to cram a lifetime of romance into a window of time.
They talked constantly, spending hours on the phone deep into the night, dissecting their favourite films, their deepest insecurities, and their monumental ambitions.
They had gone on six official dates in those twenty days—hidden away in private corner booths, secluded beaches in Malibu, and late-night cinemas.
Every laugh, every touch, and every kiss was underscored by the dread of the ticking clock.
But now, the hourglass was empty.
The European transfer window was officially open, Rico’s bags were packed, and their time together had come to an end.
Tonight was supposed to be their one last date, a bittersweet farewell before the clock finally ticked zero.
Inside her apartment, her closet looked like a designer bomb had gone off.
Discarded silk dresses, skirts, and blouses were strewn across the plush carpet as she struggled to pick the perfect outfit for what was supposed to be a goodbye.
She stood in front of her full-length mirror, holding her flip phone tightly to her ear as she spoke with her agent.
“So, what’s my next role?” Anne asked.
She had wrapped filming on the second Princess Diaries, and she was desperate to shed the tiara.
“Well, you don’t have anything formally locked in yet,” her agent replied, “But someone did just offer you the lead role in Ella Enchanted.” Anne frowned, tossing a navy dress onto the ottoman.
“What’s that about?” “It’s a fantasy rom-com,” her agent explained.
“Fairy Lucinda puts baby Ella—that would be you, obviously—under the spell of obeying anyone.
Life becomes completely awful for her due to her unwise father, cruel stepmother, and horrible stepsisters.
Eventually, Ella and Prince Charmont have to try to break the spell.” Anne stared at her reflection in the mirror, disappointed.
She didn’t want to play another role like this.
Suddenly, her mind drifted to Rico.
She thought about how he had looked the American soccer establishment in the eye and bluntly told them they weren’t good enough for him.
Rico was throwing away a comfortable superstar status in Los Angeles to take a massive risk in Europe.
He refused to compromise his ambition.
If Rico was going to Europe to take that massive risk to elevate his career, maybe she should do the same thing.
She needed to take a risk.
Anne squared her shoulders, a fiery resolve hardening her features.
“I’m going to pass on that.” The line went dead silent for a full three seconds.
“Are you serious, Anne?” her agent asked, flabbergasted.
“That’s a guaranteed, high-paying job.” “I don’t want to do movies like this anymore,” Anne stated firmly without hesitation.
“I want to move on.
I need something real.
Something gritty.” “Well, we don’t really have anything else on the table right now,” her agent sighed, the frustration evident in her tone.
“There must be something,” Anne pressed, refusing to back down.
“What else is casting?” “Well…” her agent hesitated, clearly scraping the bottom of the barrel.
“The casting directors for a major new production of Les Misérables are looking for a Fantine.” Anne’s heart violently skipped a beat.
Fantine.
It was the exact same iconic, tragic role her mother had played on the U.S.
national tour.
It was raw, devastating, and entirely mature.
“Yes, yes, please.
Get me in the room.” “I can get your name on the list, Anne, but I highly doubt they cast you,” her agent warned pragmatically.
“Just give get a chance, please”, Anne pleaded.
“You know it would mean going to London, right?” her agent pointed out.
“The production is based in the UK.
If you get the role, you’re relocating like four to five months.” Anne physically froze.
The silver phone slipped slightly against her ear.
London.
The very word sent a jolt of electricity straight down her spine.
Over the last twenty days, Rico had told her about his mother’s negotiations.
They were targeting London-based clubs, specifically Fulham, to keep him in a major city.
If Rico went to a team in London, and she landed a role that took her to London…
there clock just got four more months as they would be in the same city.
Anne’s eyes lit up with euphoria.
“That would be perfect,” Anne breathed out, her voice trembling with hope.
“I’ll take a massive pay cut.
I’ll do whatever it takes to get that role.
Call them right now.
Please.” Her agent hung up the phone, the suffocating melancholy that had plagued Anne all week vanished, instantly replaced by a giddy adrenaline.
She wasn’t preparing for a funeral anymore; she was preparing for a prologue.
She quickly grabbed a black silk slip dress, an outfit that perfectly mirrored Rico’s dark aesthetic, and began to get ready with a frantic energy.
Thirty minutes later, Anne pulled up to the exclusive, softly lit West Hollywood restaurant.
She stepped out of her car, smoothing down the luxurious black silk that clung beautifully to her slender curves, and walked through the mahogany double doors.
Rico was already there, waiting near the hostess stand.
He looked like a devastatingly handsome as usual.
He was dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, the second his piercing dark eyes landed on her, the stoic mask he usually wore melted away as his eyes lit up.
“You look stunning,” Rico said softly as she approached, his deep voice sending a fresh wave of shivers down her arms.
“You do too,” Anne smiled, her brown eyes locked onto his.
The giddy energy buzzing beneath her skin was impossible to contain.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Anne asked abruptly, her voice a low whisper.
Rico blinked taken aback.
“We haven’t even sat down yet.” “I know,” Anne said, her eyes sparkling, “but I’m not hungry.” Rico frowned slightly, as he studied her radiant face confused by her euphoric mood.
“Are you sure?
You want to spend our last day together like this?
Just leaving?” Anne leaned in just a fraction closer, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
“Maybe it’s not our last day together.” Rico froze.
His dark eyes widened, his sharp mind desperately trying to decode the cryptic, life-altering weight of her words.
“What does that mean?” “I don’t want to get my hopes up,” Anne teased gently, refusing to jinx the audition before she even stepped into the casting room.
“So, maybe it’s not.
But right now…
I just want to leave.” Rico didn’t need to be told a third time.
“Okay.
Let’s go.” They left the crowded restaurant and stepped out into the Los Angeles night.
The neon lights of the boulevard cast a cinematic glow over the pavement.
Rico instinctively reached out, his large hand intertwining with Anne’s delicate fingers.
They walked hand in hand down the quiet sidewalk, the heavy dread of the evening replaced by a thrilling electricity.
“So,” Rico asked as he looked down at her striking profile, “where do you want to go?” Anne stopped walking.
She turned to face him fully, the cool breeze gently catching the hem of her black silk dress.
She looked up at the man who had stolen her heart.
She was done playing the innocent, well-behaved Disney princess, both on the screen and in her real life.
She tilted her chin up, holding his piercing gaze with a bold fire.
“I’m not trying to lie to you,” Anne stated bluntly, “I’m trying to fuck.” Rico’s jaw unhinged.
The bluntness of the usually elegant actress short-circuited his brain.
“Woah,” Rico breathed out.
Anne took a half-step closer, entirely invading his personal space, her delicate hand resting flat against the solid plane of his chest.
“You’ve been trying to get into my pants for the last twelve dates,” Anne said with a wicked smile, feeling his heart begin to race beneath her palm.
“I’m done trying to hide it.” The drive to the luxury hotel tucked away was an agonising blur of anticipation, the second they got there, all pretence of polite restraint evaporated.
They practically sprinted into the private elevator, standing inches apart, the suffocating tension between them so thick it could be cut with a knife.
When the silver doors finally slid open to thier suite, Rico didn’t even bother turning on the lights.
The only light came from the cool glow of the city skyline filtering through the windows.
The heavy oak door slammed shut behind them with a definitive, echoing thud, sealing them off from the rest of the world.
It was as if the decorum of theirs date was a pressurised seal that had finally been punctured.
Rico backed Anne against the door.
The height difference was sudden and stark in the confined space; Rico had to lean down, his large frame casting a shadow over her as he sought her lips.
When they connected, it wasn’t a gentle greeting.
It was an aggressive collision of teeth and tongues.
Anne’s hands flew to his chest, bunching the fabric of his suit jacket, pulling him closer as if she were trying to merge their bodies right there against the wood.
Rico’s hands were less certain of where to stay, one buried itself in the dark waves of her hair, tilting her head back to gain a better angle, while the other gripped her waist, his fingers digging into the silk of her dress.
The kiss was desperate, fueled by hours of lingering desperation.
Every time Rico leaned down further to maintain the contact, the strain only seemed to heighten the intensity.
He felt her breath hitch against his mouth, a small sound of wanting that drove him wild.
They moved away from the door in a clumsy shuffle, neither willing to break the seal of their lips for more than a second to gasp for air.
The air in the room felt thick, charged with a static electricity that made the skin on Rico’s neck prickle.
He was a man possessed, and Anne was answering every surge of his passion with a ferocity of her own, her heels clicking rhythmically against the floor as she matched his pace, dragging him toward the centre of the room.
The urgency shifted from the kiss to the barrier of their clothing.
Rico’s charcoal suit felt like a cage.
He shrugged out of the jacket, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor, while Anne’s nimble fingers worked at the buttons of his white dress shirt.
Her breathing was ragged, her focus singular.
As she peeled the shirt back, Rico reached for the zipper at the back of her black dress.
It was a sleek, floor-length gown that clung to her curves like a second skin, and as the metal teeth opened, the fabric began to slide down her shoulders.
They helped each other with a frantic sort of coordination.
Rico stepped out of his trousers, his movements punctuated by the heavy thud of his heart against his ribs.
Anne kicked her heels aside, stepping out of the pooling black silk of her dress until she stood before him in nothing but the faint moonlight.
The charcoal suit and the elegant dress lay forgotten in a tangled heap on the floor.
In the quiet of the room, the only sound was the rustle of fabric and the synchronised cadence of their heavy breathing, as they were stripped of everything but their desire.
For a moment, they stood there, seeing each other fully naked for the first time.
The silence was heavy with a new kind of tension—a visual realisation that far exceeded the imagination.
Rico’s physique was commanding; the moonlight traced the hard lines of his abdominal muscles, the deep V of his hips, and the powerful breadth of his chest.
He looked like an ancient statue brought to life, rugged and formidable.
Anne’s eyes traveled down, widening slightly as she took in the full extent of his arousal.
He was impressive, a physical manifestation of the hunger she had been supressing for weeks.
The sight sent a fresh jolt of heat through her, her pupils dilating until her eyes were almost dark.
Conversely, Rico was driven wild by the sight of her.
Anne was a vision of ivory and grace, her skin glowing softly in the dim light.
Her body was a collection of elegant curves—the swell of her breasts, the narrowness of her waist, and the soft flare of her hips.
She looked ethereal.
“Now I know why you’re such a massive dick to everyone else,” she murmured, her gaze dipping down to where his body reacted to her presence.
Rico let out a low chuckle, as he stepped closer, his eyes locked onto hers with a smirk that was both playful and possessive.
Anne reached out, her fingers wrapping around him.
Rico let out a hissed breath, his head falling back as she began a slow handjob.
Her touch was firm yet soft, as it made his knees weak.
As she moved her hand, Rico’s own hands found their way to her.
He cupped her breasts, marvelling at their weight and the softness of her skin, his thumbs grazing over her nipples until she moaned into the crook of his neck.
They continued to kiss, but it was much slower now, more exploratory.
Rico’s hands drifted down, finding the curve of her ass and squeezing, pulling her flush against him so she could feel every inch of his reaction to her touch.
The sensation of her hand moving on him while his fingers explored the wet heat between her thighs created a sensory overload.
He tasted the salt on her skin and the sweetness of her mouth, his senses occupied by her.
The handjob was a torture of the best kind; Anne knew how to stoke the fire, her thumb occasionally circling the tip in a way that made Rico growl low in his throat.
He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her perfume and the musk of their shared arousal.
He was playing with her tits and ass with a growing desperation, his large hands covering so much of her, staking a claim on every inch of her body as the friction of her hand pushed him closer and closer to the edge.
The need for more became unbearable.
Rico broke the kiss, as he reached down, hooking his arms under Anne’s thighs and hoisting her up in one fluid motion.
Anne let out a small gasp of surprise that quickly turned into a moan of approval as she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist.
She clung to his shoulders, her fingers digging into his trapezius muscles for balance.
Rico backed her toward the nearest wall, but he didn’t wait to get there.
Standing in the center of the room, he adjusted her hips, the height difference finally working perfectly in their favor.
With a controlled surge, he thrusted upwards.
His dick slid inside her, a tight fit that drew a high-pitched cry from Anne’s throat.
She arched her back, her head falling back as she took him in, clenching around him in welcome.
They started to fuck standing up, a feat of strength and balance that spoke to Rico’s urgency of the moment.
Rico held her firmly, he supported her weight with ease, his thrusts deep and rhythmic.
Each time he drove upward, he felt the wet friction of her against him, the way her body molded to his.
Anne was a weightless divine burden in his arms.
She began to move her hips in a counter-rhythm, grinding against him, her heels digging into the small of his back to pull him even deeper.
The sensation was overwhelming.
He leaned her back slightly, watching the way her breasts moved with the force of his strikes, the way her eyes were squeezed shut in a mask of pure ecstasy.
The sound of their bodies meeting, the wet, rhythmic thud, filled the quiet suite, a private symphony of lust.
Rico’s breath came in ragged stabs.
He walked her toward the window, the glass cool against her back as he continued the relentless pace.
Anne’s hands moved from his shoulders to his hair, pulling at the dark strands as she sought his mouth again, her kisses now frantic “Rico,” she whimpered against his lips, her voice trembling.
“Oh god, Rico.” He didn’t speak; he couldn’t.
He was focused entirely on the sensation of being inside her, the way she felt like home and fire all at once.
He shifted his grip, one hand moving to the small of her back to push her even harder against him, his thrusts becoming shorter, faster, and more desperate, mirroring the emotional intensity of finally having her.
They were suspended in a moment of pure friction, the standing position allowing for a depth and a visual intimacy that left them both gasping for air.
Anne leaned her forehead against his, her breath hot and fast.
“Rico, put me on the bed please,” she whispered, her voice thick with the coming climax.
He obeyed, though he didn’t want to pull out.
He carried her the few steps to the massive king-sized bed, his movements careful yet charged.
Instead of laying her fully down, he set her on the very edge of the mattress.
Her feet touched the floor for balance, but her body was draped back across the duvet, her legs spread wide to accommodate him.
Rico remained standing, leaning over her, his hands planted on either side of her hips.
He began to fuck her again, the new angle allowing him to drive even deeper.
From this position, he could see everything—the flush on her chest, the way her hips rose to meet every one of his descents, the vulnerability and beauty of her surrender.
The pace intensified.
Rico was relentless, his charcoal-grey eyes fixed on hers as he worked them both toward the breaking point.
The edge of the bed provided a solid base, allowing him to put his full weight and power into every movement.
Anne’s hands reached out, clutching at the sheets, her knuckles white.
“Rico, please…
right there,” she urged, her voice breaking.
He hit the spot she wanted, a deep thrust that made her entire body shudder.
He felt his own resolve snapping.
The build-up had been too long, the tension too high.
As he felt the tell-tale tightening of her muscles, the way she began to rhythmically sob his name, he let himself go.
He buried himself deep inside her one last time, his body locking up as a powerful climax surged through him.
Simultaneously, Anne let out a shattered cry, her body arching off the bed as she came, her internal heat radiating against him.
They stayed like that for a long moment, Rico breathing hard, his forehead resting against hers as the aftershocks drifted through them.
The silence returned to the room, but it was no longer heavy with tension; it was light with the warmth of their shared release.
Rico pulled back just enough to look at her.
Her hair was a mess, her makeup was smudged, and her skin was glowing with a sheen of sweat.
To him, she had never looked more beautiful.
“You’re so beautiful, when you come undone,” he said softly.
“I love you,” Anne said, the words slipping from her lips with certainty.
Rico’s breath hitched.
A genuine smile broke across his face, illuminating his dark eyes.
“I love you too,” Rico replied, sealing the confession with a soft kiss to her forehead.
Neither of them had any intention of letting the night end there.
The impending sunrise and the ticking clock of the transfer window were ignored.
For the rest of the night, they stayed wrapped securely in each other’s arms, unwilling to let go.
They talked in intimate whispers, continuously kissing and holding each other as the hours slipped away.
They abandoned sleep, choosing instead to make the most of every single remaining second they had in that hotel room, fiercely determined to burn the memory of this perfect connection into their souls.
A/N) Before we get to the A/N.
It’s only fair.
Let’s laugh at England.
Now, I’m torn between the nations for the story.
If England won, I didn’t want to write him as English as it would be boring, so I was definitely going to Brazil.
Now, it’s a conversation between Brazil and England.
Now, I just want to clarify.
The idea is that they both sacrifice for each other to make it work.
But him not choosing Porto over Fulham isn’t one of them.
he protagonist doesn’t want to play in Portugal for a whole different set of reasons.
He grew up in England; he’s never been to Portugal.
On his first transfer, he would pick something he knows.
He has family in England.
His dad played in the Premier League, and he wants to play there too.
He would be treated as the main man in Fulham compared to Porto.
Now, I’m changing the way Rico and Anne get together.
Rico has that encounter with the girl, as he turns her down as he doesn’t want anybody else.
Rico and his mom talk about it.
He wants Fulham for the reasons lifted above but his mom thinks Porto is the right move.
He goes back to Anne, wanting her advice before he makes the decision.
(The decision is a cover-up for him asking to do long distance) Then he is like maybe we do long distance and says something a day with you is like a lifetime with someone else (not sure about that) They talk about how it could work.
Rico would spend the summers in America with her and when Anne wasn’t working she could stay with him.
Anne agrees to doing the long distance But then she drops the bombshell about getting the role in Les Mis.
And he is like, I might as well go to Fulham because they’re together for four months.
And then boom baby.
(Obviously baby thing changes it, as she will do movies only if they’re shot in England.
But when he moves to someone like Spain, it changes back to the original thing I mentioned)