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 tilines.
Demien stood near the exit gathering his things while Marco slipped the Nike box containing the prototype rcurials into his bag, and the eting 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 soone 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 ant sothing Demien hadn’t considered.
Adriano was a Nike athlete.
His forr best friend who’d destroyed everything three years ago now wore the sa 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 t across the distance, sothing flickered across his face.
Recognition. Surprise. That sa smirk.
Demien’s jaw tightened.
Marco noticed the change imdiately and followed his gaze down the hallway before asking quietly, "You know him?"
"Yeah." The word ca 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 sothing 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 mont 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 ti before the Adidas eting."
They moved toward the exit, and Adriano called after them with sothing 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 ," Marco said while starting the engine. "But if there’s sothing I should know about that affects our negotiations, now would be the ti."
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 ca 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 ca out clinical and detached. "Sa week Fiorentina released from the academy. Everything fell apart at once."
The car rged 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 sa campaigns, at the sa 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.
So things couldn’t be separated.
The rcedes navigated through afternoon traffic while Demien stared out the window, and his thoughts churned between the Nike eting that had gone so well and the ghost from his past that had appeared at the worst possible mont.
Nike European Headquarters
3:31 PM
Adriano stood frozen in the hallway, his eyes tracking Demien’s departure until the elevator doors closed, and sothing he couldn’t quite na 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 ant he’d made it sowhere despite Fiorentina releasing him, despite everything falling apart, despite being written off as not good enough.
The mories ca 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 tis in the months after, ssages that went unanswered, attempts at conversation that Demien shut down, and eventually he’d stopped trying because what was the point when soone refused to forgive?
But seeing him now, walking into Nike’s headquarters like he belonged there, negotiating deals like a professional?
It stirred sothing uncomfortable.
"Co 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 sohow, that hurt worse than anger would have.
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