Today was supposed to be your big break through, the day that you would finally be out from under your boss' thumb and actually able to have some say in things. Of course, that was not the case because before you could present your big idea to the board, your boss told them and sold the idea as his own. You were angry but there was no way that you could prove he stole your things.

Besides, no would listen to a girl like you. Your boss on the other hand was widely known and respected even though you were responsible for most of his success over the last five years. Shuffling the papers, you walked into the committee meeting. Your boss was a high ranking FIFA employee, and best friends with the head of FIFA.

You passed out the presentation papers that went to your boss' current presentation. Watching from the back of the room, you zoned out until the deep voice of one of the executives brought your attention back to the present. "This is a great idea and all, Mr. Hadley, but there is no substance to it. What are we going to do with this idea of yours?" he asked.

Your boss looked shocked and his mouth hung open. "Are you asking me how we are going to promote ourselves so that people stop questioning our integrity? George, it is clearly laid out in the—"

"—Then clarify it," he responded.

"If I may speak," you started. All eyes in the room flew towards you. "I helped Mr. Hadley with the idea. I suggested having a match or two of the best footballers in the world. All money earned as a result would be donated to various charities."

The executive that had question Mr. Hadley looked at you with new interest. "And how do you propose we narrow all the footballers in the world down to a select group of 28 individuals?"

"We should post a survey on the website."

"And where would we hold this match?"

"Spain. It already has some of the best footballers in the world playing there and has plenty of stadiums. The weather this time of year should be just the right conditions for a match." The executive nodded thoughtfully.

"And your name is?"

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N), sir," you responded.

"Well, I promoting you Ms. (Y/L/N)." You smiled. You were no longer under Mr. Hadley's thumb and were now spending all of your time on organizing the match. After posting the survey, you set the time limit for two weeks and started to work on the other details. The poll ended and you showed the list of the top 28 to your new boss, Mr. Yedlin.

"Great work, (Y/N). Your next assignment is to contact these players, in person," Mr. Yedlin responded.

"Sir, I'm hardly qualified—"

"You are perfectly qualified. Your first stop is Spain." Within two days, you boarded a plane for Madrid, Spain. Sighing, you looked at the list of players you were to contact from Real Madrid: Cristiano Ronaldo, James Rodriguez, and Iker Casillas. You later arrived at the Real Madrid training center and showed the guards your pass. Stepping into the training ground, you looked for Ancelotti, the manager.

Spotting him, you made your way over. "Mr. Ancelotti?"

"Ah, you must be Ms. (Y/L/N), from FIFA," he smiled, shaking your hand. You nodded and explained the scenario to him in more detail. "Well, they're practicing over there, why don't I walk you over?" Ancelotti introduced you to Cristiano Ronaldo and James Rodriguez.

"Where is Iker Casillas?" you asked in Spanish.

"I'll go get him," James replied, running off. You engaged in small talk with Ancelotti and Cristiano until James returned with one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. Choking down a blush, you cleared your throat.

"I represent FIFA, who would like to cordially invite you to play in a charity match," you stated, holding out invitations. As they grabbed one each, you explained further. "You have been chosen as one of the top 28 footballers in the world each. The match is the 23rd, here in Spain. I can send you more information as the date draws closer."

"I just have one question," Iker asked.

You turned to look at him. "Yes?"

"Who are the other 25?"

"Various players from around the world, why?"

"Did occur to you to think about language barriers?"

"A translator has been assigned to each team," you replied, not liking his smart ass tone. You left soon after. You travelled around the world before returning to FIFA headquarters. The teams were drawn and you, being fluent in seven languages, were assigned to one of them as a translator. Walking into the training stadium, you immediately walked over to the manager of the team.

As you had suggested the two teams would be managed by football legends. You shook hands with Sir Alex Ferguson and he walked with you over to the fourteen individuals. You recognized all of them, among them Iker Casillas. He wore a smirk on his face that you just wanted to smack off. Sir Alex explained the practice in English which you translated over and over until the players all shook their heads in understanding.

You walked around the training center, helping solve the language barriers for players before you made your way over to Iker. He was the only goalie on the team and was practicing with a coach you didn't recognized. The coach let him have a break as you walked over. "So, you didn't mention you would be our translator," he smirked.

You glared at him. "I didn't feel the need to reveal that information," you replied coldly.

"You seem a little tense," he smirked.

"Why do you care?" you spat.

"I'm sensing that you don't like me?" he continued to smirk.

"How can I? You have such an upstanding personality," you replied sarcastically.

"I think you need to cool off. Why don't you take some shots?" he said, motioning to the goal.

"And why would I do that?" you replied, crossing his arms.

"I'll make you a bet. You get a goal, we go on a date. I block all the shots and I'll leave you alone, deal?" he smirked. You shook off your shoes and stood at the penalty mark. "Five chances."

The first ball you kick went straight over the crossbar, making you curse. The second shot you took went straight towards Iker. Growling, you set up the third ball. You had taken penalty kicks all the time as a kid and were annoyed that you weren't as good as you used to be. The third and fourth shots were easily blocked by Iker. Remembering that if he blocked this shot, you would be rid of him.

You tapped the ball, not even trying. The ball rolled straight towards Iker, who sidestepped and let the ball hit the net. "You little—" you growled in German.

"I have no idea what you are saying but I'll see you at three Wednesday at the café on the corner of Madrid Square," he smirked, walking away. Fuming, you growled and kicked another ball towards the net before stomping away.