R O M E S S A.
Rumour Has It...

@romessa: Mondays...
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@marcinho11: Is your hair short or long? 🤔
@romessa: @marcinho11 shut up!! it's whatever I want it to be 😇

—

"I'm sorry, Romessa. I have no say in this." William stared at his girlfriend with a handsome yet stoic expression, watching as she read the piece of paper before her. DECLARATION OF SUSPENSION, read the words, causing Romessa's heartbeat to freeze the moment she saw them. Her own boyfriend had called her into his office to tell her that effective immediately, Athleta was on what was considered to be a period of "indefinite suspension"—in other words, the Bundesliga had lost faith in her program, and would no longer fund it.

"Why?" Romessa finally spoke, gazing up at William—who was, technically, her boss. He'd been sworn into his position as Bundesliga CEO two weeks ago—as such, he and Romessa had been living separately, visiting one another on weekends, sometimes making special trips by jet if he had the time to see her for dinner or if they had an event to make an appearance at. It was overwhelming, to say the least—if you'd told the Moroccan years ago that she'd one day live a life in which she drove around in a matte black Tesla and wore outfits that costed more than her college tuition, she would've laughed in your face. It'd be a lie for her to say she didn't enjoy the lifestyle William's new position provided her more often than not, but it came with a remarkably large price—which was that of being untrue to herself; that of being his practical property.

Deep down, she still felt the desire to provide her own; to not be so dependent upon her now multi-millionaire boyfriend for good publicity and luxurious housing and everything in between. Despite her intelligence and high-caliber education, the media still labeled her as a gold digger, and she was determined to prove them wrong. This was why she was still working as hard on Athleta as she'd been in the beginning, when she was a teenager who'd spend all her days coding in the confines of her dark bedroom. More importantly, however, it was why the words on the paper in front of her made absolutely no sense. There may've been tiny flaws in her program, but even the biggest technology corporations—Google, Apple, and everyone in between—had those. Her name may've been controversial, but the phenomenal efficiency of Athleta was not: it was the only program of its kind, undoubtedly contributing to Borussia Dortmund's incredible success this season. So why on earth was it being suspended?

"Your main goal this season was to help Marco Reus improve," declared William. "Last week, he injured himself." Romessa couldn't help but notice the way William's face twitched when he said Marco's name; the way his frown deepened and his eyes darkened with disdain. Romessa had posted a photo two hours ago that Marco left an ambiguous comment on—everyone knew that Marco Reus didn't even comment on his own wife's photos.

Romessa rose an eyebrow, feeling her chest burn. He's punishing me, she realized. He's punishing me for interacting with Marco. And he's warning me, too. "B-but I did help him. He got over his ankle injury—"

"A medical examination was done. The reason he slipped was because of a loose ankle, and his ankle was loose because it hadn't properly healed. And that was your objective—to properly heal him."

Romessa drew in a breath. "William," she spoke, "This is bullshit. How could you let them do this to me?"

"I don't have a say, Romessa. It's the board's decision. The people who pay me, and you, and—"

"Bullshit," repeated Romessa, her voice increasingly frustrated. "You are the CEO, William. You have power.  The board would never let me go—this program is worth millions!"

"And yet you haven't got a single investment," responded William, matching her frustration. "Because you refuse to accept Robert Lewandowski's—"

"I can get others." Romessa felt her body burn with anger, gripping onto the hem of her pencil dress. It was demoting and absurd; William's lack of support. "If you really loved me, then you would've defended me before they made this decision. You would've used your influence to help me. What happened to you and I being a team?"

"We are a team. But I can't act purely out of my love for you. Not this early on in my career here. I can't have that type of reputation," he spoke, rounding his desk. "Romessa," he softened his voice, placing his hand on her cheek and stroking it softly. Romessa felt her body grow warm with slight embarrassment. It was easy to resent him from afar; much less so when he was before her, gazing at her with dreamy cerulean eyes that seemed to see every part of her. "This isn't a big deal. All it means is that the league will no longer offer your program any sort of trial funding. But we still want to sponsor it, should it prove to be worth it. You'll keep your position at Borussia, helping the players. If you can secure your own funding, everything can go back to normal. I've already arranged for you to meet with Robert. He'll be here in—"

Before William could finish his sentence and before Romessa could object to it, a soft knock sounded at William's door; he hastily went to open it before gazing at his new assistant. Romessa narrowed her eyes as she observed the woman, a svelte blonde with dark green eyes. "Herr Seifert," she stated, "Mr. Lewandowski is here." 

"Send him in, Gabrielle." William stepped back and allowed his eyes to linger a little too long on his assistant's frame before he closed the door and turned to face Romessa, whose lips parted in envy. There's no way I can be jealous of an assistant, thought the Moroccan—nevertheless, she felt her eyebrows knit in a frown before speaking, her voice coming out more like an accusatory hiss.

"Who is she?"

"What?"

"Who is she, William?"

William blinked. "Gabrielle? She's just my assistant, Romessa. You can't possibly think I'd ever be so stupid." Slowly, he approached the Moroccan before kneeling beside her. "Look at me," he whispered, causing Romessa's cheeks to grow warm as her eyes met his. "I love you, Romessa. You are the most incredible woman I've ever laid my eyes on. I would never throw it away."

Romessa opened her mouth, then closed it. She bit her lip, feeling a mixture of guilt and jealousy. Why does it matter, anyways? You shouldn't care about who he looks at. After all, you're the one who's in love with another man. Before she could say anything, she watched as the door to the office was opened; in walked Robert, causing Romessa to stiffen as she watched William go to shake his hand as though they were the best of friends. It was her turn then, but she clearly wanted no contact with the Pole, forcing her hands to remain glued to her side as he extended his. It wasn't until William said her name with the tone of a warning parent that she cleared her throat and briefly shook his hand, immediately retreating it after a mere second of contact. "Thanks for flying in, Robert. I'm glad we could finally all meet to discuss this," stated William, as he went to sit behind his desk.

Romessa cleared her throat and scooted her seat away from Robert's, instantly earning her a glare from William. Realizing that she couldn't remain silent for the entire time, she finally forced her eyes to meet Robert's. She knew she couldn't seem cowardly—she couldn't let him see how much he'd destroyed her. That's what he wants, she thought, as she pursed her lips. In an attempt to sound as confident as possible, she spoke. "William has told me that you'd like to invest in the program."

Robert smirked, a clear display of power. He knew that she was still traumatized, and that there was nothing she could do about it—and he knew that in investing in her program, he would have even more power over her. She desperately wished that she could stop everything and tell William the truth about what Robert had done to her, but they both knew that she couldn't do even that—because to do so would reveal her past affair with Marco. "I see amazing potential in Athleta," began Robert. "My offer is simple. In exchange for an 8% share in your program and 10% of the profit for the first five years after it becomes available on the market, I'll invest ten million euros—yearly—in the program. Whatever remains unused is to be utilized under your discretion, so long as it isn't for immoral purposes."

Romessa felt her mouth fall open; felt her body buzz with an undeniable sensation of relief and excitement. It was an offer she couldn't refuse. The amount necessary to operate her program was just shy of seven million euros—this deal would make her a virtual millionaire. But in the back of her mind, she couldn't ignore the red light which flickered on and off. It won't be your money, she reminded herself. It'll be his. "What's the catch?" Inquired Romessa, finally blinking herself back into the present. But what choice do you have, Romessa?

"The catch?" William spoke, sliding forward a contract that had evidently already been drafted and prepared for her signature. "As long as you remain free of a criminal record and are mentally competent, there is no catch, Romessa. This is the best type of offer you'll receive at this stage. Even the league couldn't match something this generous."

Romessa knew that William was right, but the last thing she wanted was to accept funding from her rapist. But doesn't have to be forever. Once the program hits the market, and once it makes its own money—I won't need his. She could hardly think straight as her eyes scanned the paper, the words all blurring into one another. All she wanted was to be out of the same vicinity as Robert. With a trembling hand, she grabbed one of William's expensive fountain pens before signing her signature, hardly managing to do so without driving the pen off of the paper. She stood up immediately after, ignoring the approving smile on William's face as Robert stood up as well. He held a hand out, and with smug eyes, spoke. "I look forward to doing business with you, Romessa."

Romessa drew in a breath and placed her hand in his, struggling to speak without her voice cracking. "Yeah," she muttered, without an ounce of sincerity. "You, too."

Upon hastily leaving William's office—and shooting a cautionary look at his receptionist on the way out—Romessa was relieved to breath in fresh air, despite how cold it was. It was the first week of December now; Bella and Julian's wedding was scheduled to take place in two weeks, though because Italy was in a nationwide quarantine, their plans had been nearly ruined. Romessa let out an audible French profanity. "Merde!" Bella had asked her to search for new places to host the wedding, but she'd been so busy that she completely forgot to. The two had already had a lengthy discussion about Romessa's ability to commit to being the maid of honor—she was so busy that she hardly talked to her friends, and Bella was beginning to feel concerned about it. But Romessa assured her that everything was fine, and that she wanted more than anything to be the maid of honor, which was true. Way to prove it, thought Romessa, her stomach feeling heavy with disappointment towards her own self.

"Romessa?" Quickly, she turned to face Robert, who'd managed to sneak behind her while she was preoccupied with her thoughts.

She drew in a gasp before stepping back and feeling her body burn. "What do you want?"

"You didn't think you could ignore me forever, could you?" Robert stepped dangerously close, a smirk playing his lips. He could do that, Romessa remembered—stand so close to her—because he'd paid off most of the media, anyways.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Romessa felt her throat constrict as she struggled to breath. She couldn't look at Robert without seeing the man that'd violated her, taunted and harassed her for months, rendered her mentally unstable, ruined her life. "Y-You could have anyone in the world," she continued. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"It's a wonder that you'd ask me something so stupid," hissed Robert. "Why do you think the CEO of the Bundesliga wants to marry you? Why do you think Marco Reus can't stay away from you, knowing how foolish it is to keep running around with you? We don't want anyone in the world," spoke Robert, his eyebrows knitted into a frown of scrutiny. "You should be thanking me for what I just did. Without me, now, you're nothing. Remember that," spoke Robert, holding a hand up to halt a nearby taxi. Before getting in the car and riding off, he turned to Romessa and spoke, his eyes glinting with the same sinister look that still plagued her nightmares here and there. "Remember, Romessa, that I have eyes everywhere. So don't do anything stupid. I'll be around."

Romessa turned and rushed back inside of the skyscraper, reminding herself to breath and catching a few looks from people around her as she did so. I have to tell William, she thought, as she made her way to the elevator. Just as she prepared to step inside, her phone rang in her purse—Romessa stared at the screen and let out a breath of relief. Bella. "Bella—"

"How've you been, Romy?"

"Oh," Romessa drew in a breath. "I'm fine, Bella. I'm sorry I haven't called—"

"No worries! So, Julian and I figured out a place to hold the wedding, and I wanted to tell you first, being that you are the maid of honor. You're gonna love it—because we're going to Morocco!"

Romessa blinked, then pushed her hair out of her face. "Wait, what?"

"I've wanted to go for some time, but it's even more perfect now, because you'll be able to see your family! We've already booked this gorgeous resort in Saidia, right on the water. Like, we've rented out the entire thing. Are you free this weekend? I was thinking we'd fly in and check it out."

Romessa let out a breath, immediately feeling her head grow heavy. She hadn't been to Morocco since fleeing when she was six; not even had she visited her parents after her family was deported from the states. But she knew Bella wouldn't understand her dilemma in returning, and really, it wasn't much of a dilemma at all—she was the maid of honor, and no matter how anxiety-inducing it may be for her to return to her country of origin, she had to do it for Bella's sake. "That's wonderful, Bella. I have a charity gala on Friday evening and an interview with a magazine on Saturday afternoon, but I can reschedule the interview or do it virtually." She paused, then tucked her hair behind her ear. "Will Marco and Julian be coming?"

There was an odd pause before Bella drew in a breath and spoke. "Well, that was the other thing that I wanted to talk to you about, Romessa."

She knows. "What do you mean?" Feign innocence.

"Romessa, a photo was leaked. It's not recent. But it's you and Marco...and you guys are..." her voice drifted off. "You're standing on a balcony, and he's got his arms wrapped around you. It doesn't look good, Romy. People are talking. If Marco comes this weekend, and if you're there as well...I just don't want it to impact the wedding, is all." A pause. "Is there something still going on between the two of you, Romessa?" Romessa felt her eyes burn as she looked around the lobby of the building, her body trembling and her blood crawling with anxiety. Suddenly, she felt a million eyes on her; the woman at the front desk, the group waiting by the elevator. Everyone was looking at her, because everyone knew—at least that was how it felt. And then she saw the photographer two floors above her, pointing his camera over the railing; there was one behind the glass door entrance to the lobby as well. Bella spoke again. "Romy?"

"I have to go, Bella, I'll call you back. I have to go," Romessa spoke, before quickly hanging up. She ignored her notifications and opened Safari, hastily typing in the search engine. Romessa Bensaïd and Marco Reus. The results were instant; news articles from as recent as minutes ago came up. She clicked on the first result and let out a hushed expression of agony, staring at the blurry photo—which wasn't blurry enough. They were inside of Manuela's house, with Marco leaning against the doorframe of the small balcony while smoking a cigarette. Romessa had the front of her body pressed to his, her face buried in his chest, while Marco's free arm rested around her shoulders. There was little to no excuse that could be made for standing like that—other than the truth, which was that they'd been having an affair, and if that photo had been snapped just minutes later, her lips would've been on his.

She instantly got in a taxi and dialed Marco's number, listening as he answered on the first ring. "Romessa?"

"M-Marco—"

"Oh, Romessa," Marco let out a breath, "I know. I saw it, too."

"What are we going to do?"

Marco drew in a breath. "I have a meeting with my publicist this afternoon, in Unna. Maybe you should meet with yours—"

"Marco," Romessa exited the taxi, rushing into the small airport before any photos could be taken of her and before any reporters could hassle her with questions about the quickly spreading rumor. "I don't have a publicist."

"Then you'll come to meet mine," spoke Marco. Before he could speak, Jessica could be heard in the background; her voice was clearly filled with anger. "I have to go, Romessa. I'll text you, okay?"

"Okay," responded Romessa, biting her lip. After showing her boarding pass to a flight attendant, she spoke. "I love you, Marco."

Romessa bit her lip and listened as Marco didn't respond—instead, it was Jessica, who she could hear in the background before he quickly hung up. "Marco, what have you done?!"

Romessa sat back in her seat and closed her eyes after greeting the plane crew; the only other passenger was a surgeon from the area. As she opened her lids and gazed out the window, Jessica's question rang in the back of her head: what have you done?

She couldn't think of any excuse they could fathom in order to wave off the public's assumptions; the photo was so intimate that it made even her blush while looking at it. Foremost, she was terrified of how William would react. She needed him in her life—the benefits she got out of their relationship were necessary. But as long as he was suspicious of her loyalty to him, he could continue to play her like a puppet on a string, and she would have no choice but to adhere to his commands. Things were even worse now, with plans moving forward to get funding from Robert—he, too, could use this as leverage over her. Going to games or even participating in Bella's wedding would raise eyebrows; the women would gossip, label