Wednesday, August 28th, 2022

Nike European Headquarters, Milan

3:27 PM

Alessandro stepped out of the conference room with his phone already pressed to his ear, and his voice carried down the hallway as he spoke rapidly in Italian about legal drafts and contract timelines.

Demien stood near the exit gathering his things while Marco slipped the Nike box containing the prototype Mercurials into his bag, and the meeting had gone better than expected with numbers that made sense and terms that felt fair.

The elevator doors opened at the end of the hall, and someone stepped out.

Demien's hands froze on his jacket zipper.

Adriano Ventresca walked toward them wearing dark jeans and a crisp white Nike t-shirt with the swoosh prominent across his chest, and his presence hit like cold water because seeing him here in Milan's Nike headquarters meant something Demien hadn't considered.

Adriano was a Nike athlete.

His former best friend who'd destroyed everything three years ago now wore the same brand Demien had just spent ninety minutes negotiating with, and the realization settled heavy in his chest.

Adriano hadn't noticed them yet as his attention was on his phone, but when he looked up and their eyes met across the distance, something flickered across his face.

Recognition. Surprise. That same smirk.

Demien's jaw tightened.

Marco noticed the change immediately and followed his gaze down the hallway before asking quietly, "You know him?"

"Yeah." The word came out flat.

Adriano pocketed his phone and walked closer with casual confidence, and when he reached speaking distance he said, "Demien Walter. Can't believe you're here."

Demien said nothing.

"Didn't know you were signing with Nike," Adriano continued while his tone carried false friendliness that made Demien's skin crawl. "Guess we'll be brand mates now."

The thought of sharing anything with Adriano again made something cold settle in Demien's chest, and David Drinkwater's thirty-seven years of experience whispered warnings about letting emotions dictate business decisions, but the eighteen-year-old part of him that was still Demien Walter wanted nothing to do with this.

He turned to Marco and said quietly, barely audible, "Take Nike off the list."

Marco frowned. "Why? What happened?"

Demien's eyes stayed on Adriano for another second before he looked away without answering, and the silence stretched between them while Adriano's smirk widened slightly.

"Let's check Adidas first," Demien said after a pause, his voice controlled. "Then Puma. We'll know more then. But for now, I don't want to sign with Nike."

The tension hung heavy in the air.

Marco studied his face for a moment before nodding slowly, and he could sense there was history here that Demien wasn't ready to discuss, and he respected that boundary without pushing.

"Alright," Marco said simply. "We've got time before the Adidas meeting."

They moved toward the exit, and Adriano called after them with something that might have been mockery or genuine confusion, but Demien didn't turn back to find out.

The elevator ride down was silent.

When they reached the parking garage and the doors opened, Demien finally exhaled the breath he'd been holding, and Marco waited until they were in the car before speaking.

"You don't have to tell me," Marco said while starting the engine. "But if there's something I should know about that affects our negotiations, now would be the time."

Demien looked out the window at Milan's skyline passing by.

"He was my best friend at Fiorentina," Demien said after a long pause. "We came up through the academy together. Three years of training side by side. Then I introduced him to my girlfriend."

He didn't need to finish the sentence.

Marco's expression darkened. "Ah."

"Found them together," Demien continued, and the words came out clinical and detached. "Same week Fiorentina released me from the academy. Everything fell apart at once."

The car merged into traffic, and neither spoke for several minutes.

"That's why you don't want Nike," Marco said finally, understanding clicking into place.

"I can't share a brand with him." Demien's voice was quiet but firm. "Not after everything. Seeing his face on the same campaigns, at the same events, being grouped together as Nike athletes? I can't do that."

"Fair enough." Marco's tone was matter-of-fact. "Then we'll make Adidas or Puma work. The Nike offer was good, but it's not the only option."

Demien nodded, grateful Marco wasn't pushing him to reconsider or telling him to separate business from personal feelings.

Some things couldn't be separated.

The Mercedes navigated through afternoon traffic while Demien stared out the window, and his thoughts churned between the Nike meeting that had gone so well and the ghost from his past that had appeared at the worst possible moment.

Nike European Headquarters

3:31 PM

Adriano stood frozen in the hallway, his eyes tracking Demien's departure until the elevator doors closed, and something he couldn't quite name churned in his chest.

"Why are you just standing there?" His agent's voice cut through his thoughts as the man appeared from one of the conference rooms. "You zoning out again?"

Adriano shook his head. "Nothing."

But it wasn't nothing.

Seeing Demien here at Nike headquarters meant he'd made it somewhere despite Fiorentina releasing him, despite everything falling apart, despite being written off as not good enough.

The memories came unbidden.

Three years of friendship. Training together every day. Sharing dreams about making it to the first team. Then Elena, and Demien's face when he'd walked into that room, and the silence that had followed before everything shattered.

Adriano had apologized dozens of times in the months after, messages that went unanswered, attempts at conversation that Demien shut down, and eventually he'd stopped trying because what was the point when someone refused to forgive?

But seeing him now, walking into Nike's headquarters like he belonged there, negotiating deals like a professional?

It stirred something uncomfortable.

"Come on," his agent said while gesturing toward the conference room. "They're waiting for us to finalize your contract extension. Let's not keep them."

Adriano followed, but his mind stayed on Demien's face in the hallway.

The cold indifference in his eyes.

The way he'd looked right through him like Adriano didn't exist.

And somehow, that hurt worse than anger would have.

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