God Of football

Chapter 980: Rue de Bellechasse

On the bench, Izan stood with the rest of his mates, clapping, knowing that the job might finally be done.

The game began to drain away after that as both teams seemed to settle for the score, though one side couldn’t really do anything about it.

And a moment later, the final whistle came.

"And that," the commentary came through as the applause from the stands rained down on the players, "might be the final Chapter of this one. Arsenal see it out. A statement at home. But today is old news, and I am sure that all eyes will be on Paris, heading into tomorrow."

As it always did, the cameras found Izan near the bench, walking shoulder to shoulder with the rest of his mates on the bench and clapping for the rest on the field before approaching some of the Manchester City players as well as some of his own.

While on the broadcast, the commentary came through again.

"He won’t be on a pitch tomorrow. But make no mistake, he’ll still be at the centre of it."

Izan glanced up towards the cameras, almost as if he’d heard what was being said on the broadcast and then turned away after he found his mates trekking towards the tunnel.

After the game, the players made their way towards the bus, where they were met outside once more by an appreciative crowd that was still singing chants as the bus slipped into the stream of cars outside.

It honked twice, probably to acknowledge the crowd, while behind, the stadium finally began emptying.

For Izan, though, it was from Hampstead to Heathrow in the span of a couple of hours, together with his family, just after returning home.

By the time the engines of the private jet hummed to life, it was already night.

London fell away beneath them, the lights thinning into patterns, then into nothing.

Inside the cabin, the feeling was subdued as it seemed everyone was caught in a world of their own.

Komi sat with her legs tucked up, shoes off, leaning slightly toward Izan and in front of him was Hori with Miko sprawled across her lap like she owned the place, one hand resting absent-mindedly on her back as she stared out of the window.

Beside Izan was Olivia, staring absentmindedly at the bracelet on her wrist, while Miranda, as usual, had her tablet out, scrolling with two fingers, face unreadable.

Before the silence could entrench the cabin further, Komi broke it.

"We really couldn’t have left in the morning?" she asked, not in an accusing tone, just curiously.

"The ceremony’s not until the evening. And it’s like 1 hour and 30 minutes to Paris from London. Two hours max. Plus, we didn’t even fly commercially, so there wouldn’t have been problems."

Izan leaned back, hands folded loosely over his stomach as he tilted his head toward Miranda.

"She’ll tell you."

Without looking up, Miranda nodded towards Komi.

"We needed tonight," she said. "Saint Laurent wanted a fitting."

Hori turned slowly.

"A fitting," she repeated.

"Yes. We needed leeway to change things if Izan didn’t like what they had."

"We are really going with all the firepower, huh?"

Miranda finally looked up and studied Hori for a second before glancing u throughfully.

"Yes, we are. It’s clear to all and at this point," she said, calmly, "it would be harder for him to lose than to win."

That landed differently.

Hori exhaled sharply, with it coming out more as a snort than breath, to which Izan smiled faintly at before turning towards Miranda.

"They still have to call the name," he said.

"And they will," Miranda replied before looking back at the tablet, only to put it away a few minutes after that.

As Komi had said, the trip barely felt like one.

Paris came up beneath them quietly, the city falling asleep as the jet touched down at a private strip tucked away from the noise.

They moved quickly across the tarmac, and a moment later, they made their way out where a black van was waiting with the engine already running.

The doors opened, then closed again, sealing them into warmth and leather as the car pulled away.

Izan leaned his head back against the seat, eyes shut for most of the drive while Hori counted streetlights without realising it.

It didn’t take too long before the hotel they would be staying at came into view, the Bvlgari Hotel, Paris, where a concierge met them just as they got down from the Van, before the Hotel swallowed them from the confines of the night.

—

And just as fast as the day had come to an end, the next morning came rapidly.

The Saint Laurent head office sat quietly from the outside, looking like a Renaissance piece as Izan and Miranda made their way inside.

And the moment they did, it didn’t take long for the few eyes around to find him.

"I get why we pay so much for him now," a staffer said as he watched the way Izan’s hair fell loose at the front, thick and glossy, tied back lazily like it was an afterthought.

The duo noticed them noticing and didn’t care.

A moment later, Henry appeared almost instantly, smile wide and practised, arms opening like he was greeting old friends.

"Welcome to Paris," he said, voice warm, eyes flicking briefly to Izan before returning to Miranda.

She sighed, already tired of his antics.

"We haven’t eaten," she said flatly. "So let’s do this quickly."

Henry blinked, then nodded once.

"Of course."

He turned and gestured towards a staff member who had looked decorative until then.

The latter straightened immediately and moved ahead of them.

They were led through quiet corridors into a fitting room that felt more like a lounge.

Soft light.

Wide mirrors and seating arranged carefully, like everything had been thought out twice.

Just as Izan entered the room, he stopped short, staring at the figure in the seat a metre away.

Selene sat there, legs crossed, phone in hand, looking entirely too comfortable.

"What are you doing here?" Izan asked, genuinely puzzled as he moved closer.

She looked up slowly, feigning hurt.

"Wow. That’s how you greet me now?" she said. "It wounds me that the kid I made a fashion icon now wants to throw me away."

He rolled his eyes and dropped into the seat beside her, only for her to immediately reach for his hair.

"No," he said, swatting her hand away.

She grinned and tried again, fingers brushing the band at the back of his head.

"Why do you tie it like this? It’s criminal."

He stood up without a word and took the seat opposite her while Selene laughed.

"You’re no fun."

Before Izan could make out his reply, the door swung open and coming through were staff carrying trays, covered plates and small bowls as well as bread still warm enough to steam faintly in the air.

Henry followed them in.

"We don’t really know your palate in French terms," he said, almost apologetic. "So try what you like."

Izan nodded.

"Thanks."

"And I didn’t get anything," Selen said as Izan stood and moved toward the table, lifting lids, scanning without rushing.

"Sign with us as our exclusive, and we will give you all the bread and baguettes you want," Henry said coyly as Selene scrunched her nose at that.

Izan, after picking, turned back to Selene.

"Seriously, though, I know why I am here, but why are you actually here?"