The Devil's Love For The Heiress by LiLhyz

Chapter 14: The Devilish Serve
Second Round of the French Open.
Stade Roland Garros, the complex hosting
the French Open, had its tennis courts‘ surfaces made with white limestones and covered with red brick dust. Crushed bricks wer
e pressed onto the limestone surface with
rollers, then drenched in water. Every step, every glide, and every ball landing left a mark on the tennis courts.
They say, in the French Open, there were few miscalculations on whether the ball
went in or out, but that day, Hugo Bonnet made it a point to let Carlos know how he had control over the French games. Hugo att
ended the game for the first time since Carlos went undercover into the match–fixing schemes.
“The ball was in!” Carlos yelled at the referee, and many of
his supporters inside the stadium did the same. They were booing the referee for having counted the ball out.
Carlos‘ face was red in resentment. Everyone could feel the heat throughout the entire stadium
When the organizers tried Hawk–Eye‘s assessment, the findings came undetermined.
“Booo! Boo! Hawk–Eye is a fail!”
“It was in! It was in!”
“The ball was in!”
Hawk–
Eye was the technology used in many tennis tournaments around the world. It comprised ten cameras around the court that follo
wed the tennis ball wherever it went. It was often used
to disprove or prove the referee‘s findings. Sadly, during Carlos‘ match, the same advanced technology
failed. Carlos was going head to head with a wild card opponent. The event
organizers often chose a wild card, regardless of whether they qualified for the tournament. It was their way of featuring potential
new tennis stars in the Grand Slams.
“The ball is out. Call stands,” the referee insisted, and Carlos did not miss how the same referee regarded Hugo
Bonnet from the VIP seats.

Carlos understood how Hugo was playing his game. Hugo was warning him, trying to make him realize that he could
also ruin his matches, but to Carlos, there were shots that the referees could not call “out.”
During Carlos‘ next serve, he soothed himself. He took
a deep breath before fishing out a pendant dangling from his necklace. He held a golden compartment locket with his fist and pe
cked it, believing it as his good luck charm. He gave Hugo one unfazed look. Then, he glanced at Alexander. His friend was mout
hing him an
instruction, ‘End the fucking game! Carlos nodded, knowing what to do. Lifting his racket up, ready to serve, he tossed the
tennis ball and hit it with his remarkable strength. It landed on the opponent‘s center service area, garnering him a point. His rival
stood no chance at the powerful serve, merely frozen in his stance, shocked at how fast the ball came his way.
“We love The Devil!”
“What a speed!”
“No one beats The Devil in court!”
“Love you, Carlos!”
The stadium became filled with applause. Many of Carlos‘ supporters stood up with their hoots while pointing to the LED screen.
The same screen showed how Carlos performed.
The average
tennis serve speed within the men‘s singles category was 120 miles per hour (mph ), but Carlos‘ serve measured at 146 mph.
Glaring at the referee, Carlos waited for the announcement. Eventually, the referee declared,” Fifteen all.”
During Carlos‘ next serve, he struck it
with the same strength. His opponent managed to hit the ball, but it clearly landed outside the service line.
“Out,” the referee called and explained where it landed, “Thirty, fifteen. Advantage, Ronaldo.”
From above the stadium, the sports commentator described Carlos‘s performance. “Woah! Carlos Ronaldo is taking this match s
eriously. Have you ever seen him show off his Devilish serve during the second round? He meant to prove a point. There is no b
eating The Devil himself!”

On Carlos‘ succeeding serve, his opponent missed the ball again. On the next, his rival fell down the red court. He hit the ball, bu
t it never went past the net.
“And it‘s a game in favor of Carlos Ronaldo, The Devil in court!” From above the stadium, the sports commentator announced. “D
id you see that? One hundred fifty miles per hour! Clearly, a very good display of talent at this early stage of the competition.”
Carlos won easily. His game was determined as the shortest match in the French Open, lasting only seven minutes.
***
Carlos walked into the locker rooms, still fired up by Hugo‘s schemes. Alexander
followed behind him, and after finding an isolated spot, he whispered to Carlos, “He is trying to test
us.”
“I
know,” Carlos said before clenching his jaws. “It‘s just that his methods get under my skin.” Still controlling their voices, Alexande
r proposed,
“Let‘s hurry up and return to our hotel.” The two quickly changed, not bothering to get a shower. They wanted to meet up with the
French detectives and assess the situation. Just as Carlos collected his belongings, his phone rang. Carlos saw it was Hailey
calling. Wanting to get rid of her quickly, he answered the call saying, “Hailey, I thought I told you –”
“Carlos, baby! I‘m here with Kate. Poor little thing is expecting you to call her back. I
thought I would do her a favor and make that call instead. Do you want to speak to ”
Remembering how his known mobile phone may be tapped, Carlos quickly ended the call, utterly in a panic.
He cussed, realizing how Kate‘s name had been mentioned. Another reason for his displeasure was the fact that Hailey was still i
n Braeton. She was probably seeking Kate out on purpose and doing whatever it took to push Kate away from him.
Alexander and Carlos promptly left the locker rooms. They
reached the complex‘s driveway and waited for their vehicle. Their bodyguards kept them secured the entire time. Before their ca
r could reach them, Hugo and his men approached, driving by in another vehicle.
Hugo rolled down the window of his car. He said, “Hailey Mckenzie, huh? Baby? I guess I‘ve always known.”

Carlos‘ tensed at his words. He sucked in a breath and replied, “Listening in to my calls now? That‘s how you work with your busin
then asked, “By the way, who is Kate?” Carlos‘ chest tightened, scared of what Hugo may have found
out. He frowned, acting not to recognize the name. He asked, “Who?” “Dude, you know. Kaitlyn, the blondie who tried to seduce y
Carlos still maintained his frown, saying, “I don‘t remember.”
“Gentlemen, I came to remind you of our agreement. The quarterfinals are around the corner. Mister Jenkin‘s will
be the first to prove his worth.” Hugo smirked and said, “My men will be in touch.”
Hugo rolled up his car window, and his vehicle gracefully left the driveway of Roland Garros‘s complex.
* *
*
Three hours later.
Carlos and Alexander were having a meeting with the detectives. It was
there that Carlos expressed his concern. He said, “Detective Bernard,
I may not like Hailey Mckenzie, but I sure don‘t want her dead because of me.”
“We have already reached out to the US authorities. They
will give her undercover surveillance,” detective Bernard promised. “And Kate?” Carlos asked. “You have
no idea how many soldiers are secretly
following behind her. I think her father did the work for us,” the detective revealed, leaving Carlos assured.
“However, it is better that you cut off all contacts for now,” Bernard instructed. “Better safe than sorry.”
Carlos retired for that day, already past midnight in Paris. Inside his room, he
opened his safety deposit box with a heavy heart, knowing it may be the last time he
would call Kate until the covert operation was over. When he turned his mobile on, he received text messages from Kate.
He already expected her to have
many questions, including how Hailey was able to reach him freely. Knowing Hailey, Carlos already guessed how he needed to do
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