God Of football

Chapter 995: Power Plays!

"How was the ride?" Richard Garlick, Arsenal’s newly promoted CEO, asked the man walking beside him as they made their way towards the conference room at the facility.

"Not bad, Richard, but I think such small talk should be spared today, no," Josh Kroenke, the son of Stan Kroenke, muttered while staring through the glass expanse where balls in sacks lay still. (Feels so wrong)

Richard Garlick, hearing that, nodded once as they made the last turn towards the room where Arteta was already waiting.

"Good morning," Josh said first, to which Arteta nodded before the three men got settled.

Seeing the paper in front of his seat, Josh Kroenke glanced at Garlick, leaned back in his chair, skimmed the first page, and then let out a short scoff through his nose.

"So this is the famous, or rather infamous, document for us."

Richard Garlick didn’t look offended.

If anything, he looked faintly amused.

He adjusted his glasses and tapped the edge of the paper with one finger.

"I’m sure you’ve already heard most of it," he said lightly. "But I’ll go over what they are trying to play at."

Across from them, Mikel Arteta sat upright and folded his arms as Garlick began.

"Real Madrid, together with several other Champions League clubs. Manchester City. PSV. PSG and a few more others circling in support. They’ve submitted a formal request to UEFA."

He paused, glancing up.

"Their position is that our recent... dominance, as they put it, warrants scrutiny. They’ve asked for an investigation into Arsenal and its players. To ensure competitive balance."

Josh gave a dry laugh.

"Competitive balance," he repeated.

Garlick’s mouth curved slightly.

"Yes, that was what they said in the document, but we all know why they’re doing this and what they want."

Josh swirled his head to a stop before nodding!

"They never stopped even after we said no," he said while turning towards Arteta.

"Remember their large bid," Josh said, to which Arteta nodded.

"That wasn’t the last," he continued.

"Florentino’s had his eyes on Izan for months. After the last rejection, I thought he’d cool off. Instead, he doubled down and even met with my father, trying to convince him to make a deal. One that went beyond the coffers of football!"

Arteta, hearing the new information for the first time, raised a brow while his breath hitched as Josh leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.

"He tried to convince my father, knowing the business mind he had, but I had to get him to say no to that deal, and thankfully, after some convincing, he declined. It never really got past the room, and that was why no media heard anything about it, but I get he’s now a bit touched!"

"Madrid went trophyless last season, and with the elections delayed in January, coming back in the first month of the next year, he needs something. He needs a statement signing. Something that reasserts control. And what better way than the centre of the football world at the moment!"

Hearing all that new information, Arteta didn’t speak immediately.

He studied Josh for a moment longer than usual, then nodded slightly, as if confirming something, but a moment later, he looked down and then back up again.

"And UEFA?" he asked, to which Josh looked to Garlick.

"So far? Nothing really. No contact has been made with us, and none of the official channels of UEFA have said anything."

"Keep me updated. We haven’t done anything that warrants the investigation, so no need to fret," Josh said before he stood, straightening his jacket.

He turned to Arteta, and then turned towards Arteta.

"Don’t lose sleep over this. It’s business. Not football."

Arteta held his gaze.

"I never lose sleep over your business," he replied evenly. "Only over performances."

That earned the faintest smirk from Josh.

"Good. Then focus on that. Leave the rest to me."

He stepped toward the door, then waved a hand casually.

"Don’t bother escorting me."

And just like that, he was gone.

The moment the door closed, the room suddenly felt smaller.

Then Garlick gathered the papers, and like that, the rest of the day moved in suspension.

Social feeds refreshed in waves as pundits and panellists kept talking about the documents and the request.

And yet, when the next morning arrived, UEFA had still said nothing.

Fans began to ask why it was taking so long.

"If there’s nothing wrong, say it."

"If there is something wrong, say it."

By midday, a response finally came from UEFA.

"Given the number of clubs who had petitioned," it read!

"UEFA would conduct a review. It would be carried out promptly. Arsenal had pledged full cooperation, a line attributed by the club president Richard Garlick."

It didn’t take long for the various football fans online to take up the matter.

"So now clubs try to win off the pitch?"

"They can’t stop him on grass, so they’re trying boardrooms."

"It’s not subtle. Real Madrid leading the charge? Come on."

From there, old clips resurfaced of Florentino Pérez speaking about Izan in previous interviews.

The admiration.

The thinly veiled fascination and the desire to have the boy at the club that showed in his eyes!

The comments piled up beneath every post.

And one heavily liked comment read:

"Arsenal should just share Izan with Madrid, so they stop these antics."

In the anything but quiet living room in Hampstead, Izan was reading that very line.

He let out a low laugh through his nose while Olivia, stretched across the couch with her head resting on his lap, tilted her face up toward him.

"What’s funny?" she asked.

Before he could answer, Hori’s voice floated in from the kitchen.

"People online fawning over you again?" she called out, appearing in the doorway with a glass of water in hand.

"Must be exhausting being universally adored."

Miko padded in behind her, white fur immaculate, tail swaying slowly like an otherworldly beast.

Izan didn’t rise to the sarcasm.

He just angled his phone toward Olivia.

"They think Arsenal should loan me to Madrid so they calm down."

Olivia blinked, then snorted.

"Generous of them."

Hori leaned against the counter.

"Maybe you should," she said dryly with a smirk.

"Think of it as service to the Spanish community. I’m sure they miss you in Spain!"

He looked at her and forced an exaggerated smile.

"You’re a killjoy."

She smiled back, unbothered, while from the edge of the room, Miko now stood very still, watching.

Izan caught her eye immediately and immediately knew what was going through the mind of the little beast, and that made his expression change.

"Miko," he warned gently, shaking his head while slowly setting his phone down.

The dog’s ears perked at that!

"No," he repeated, softer but firmer. "Miko, no."

The moment the second "no" left his mouth, the Samoyed bolted.

Olivia rolled off his lap just in time.

"Miko—!" Izan yelled, but the dog launched herself at him with full, joyful commitment.

Izan let out a startled "huumph" as eighty pounds of white fur collided with his chest and knocked him back into the cushions.

The phone, which he hadn’t been able to set down in time, slid from his hand onto the carpet while Hori and Olivia laughed, with the former even taking a video of the scene.

"That’s what you get," she said.

Izan lay half-buried under fur, struggling to sit up while Miko licked his face with relentless affection.

"I said no," he protested weakly, trying to push her off, but it didn’t work as the dog still crawled back onto him until he stopped resisting.

It was only then that Miko stopped barking once like she had won a battle!