"I still don't understand why I'm doing this."

Paul Pierce stopped in his tracks and looked behind his back to glare at his sister Svetlana. She was looking around the TD Banknorth Garden as if she hadn't been watching courtside basketball games there for the most part of her seventeen year old life. Hell, it practically gave her the aforementioned life she now enjoys, including the Louis Vuitton fur coat she was wearing over a white tank top and black leather shorts ensemble. Most probably the black knee-high Steve Madden boots she was now tapping her foot with, too. And it wasn't as if watching wrestling would be any different than watching basketball. There would still be thousands of people cheering for one party or another, holding up their home made signs and banners and donning their favourite Superstar's apparel. Not anything new.

"S, please," Paul pleaded, taking her tiny, soft, French-tipped hands in his own big, brawny ones. "We talked about this. It's going to be fun, I tell you! And besides, I already told John I'd come. I wouldn't want to be more of a jackass than I already am and bail on him."

Svetlana sighed for effect. It wasn't the wrestling part that bothered her. She actually got a kick out of the overly-dramatized ass-kicking. Earlier today, she just had a photo shoot for the new Marc by Marc Jacobs ad. It had started at about five in the morning and lasted about five in the afternoon. It had drained the life out of her. She wondered why it had taken so long, too. Before she had the chance to confine herself in the comforts of her room at the Ritz-Carlton, Paul was there, waiting for her and practically dragged her to The Garden for the WWE Show. But now, her eyes felt like it weighed a thousand tons and her body felt like it had been wrecked over by a Mack truck. She couldn't help feeling cranky.

"You tell Cena this better be good," Svetlana seethed, bumping her brother as she stormed into the arena. "And you're driving me to New York tomorrow noon. You owe me that much."

Paul mentally hollered and ran to keep up with Svetlana, who was taking long and angry strides into the arena. Most of the people were already seated. You could feel the hype in the air as the fans awaited their favourite Superstars to battle. On the way to their seats, the siblings were constantly mobbed for pictures and autographs – doing nothing to lighten Svetlana's already foul mood. Paul was his usual cocky self, smiling widely at each camera and signing people's arms with a spring in his step. You'd think Svetlana would be enjoying this – being a model and all – but she was anything but charming as the people continued to have their way with pictures. Finally, Svetlana and Paul took their seats at ring side, just behind the announcer's table.

Amidst all the noise, Svetlana was still ready to fall asleep on her chair. But an even louder anthem began playing, jolting her awake. Everyone just started screaming and hollering, even Paul. She groaned loudly and huffing, she stood up.

"What's going on?" Svetlana screamed into Paul's ear. She could hardly hear herself speak. The music continued playing and the people continued cheering, but she had no idea what for.

Paul chuckled to himself and screamed back, "The Champ is here!"

A muscular figure suddenly erupted from backstage and the crowd grew crazier. Svetlana instantly recognized him as John Cena, one of Paul's friends. He was one of the better looking ones. As his face was flashed on the two giant screens overhead, Svetlana couldn't help but admire his well-built body. No wonder all these ladies were screaming their hearts out for him. She couldn't deny he was incredibly hot – minus the purple and yellow shit-shirt he was wearing. He saluted the crowd and ran down the ramp, unto the ring. He had so much energy as he catapulted himself between the ropes, much to the delight of over the ten thousand people in attendance.

Finally, his music died down and the crowd hushed, too as John started to speak. Svetlana had little idea of what he was talking about. There was something about a Nexus and some dude named Wade Barrett. Paul seemed intrigued, though. Apparently, they were doing a pretty good job at screwing up his life. Svetlana had to applaud his acting skills.

He hadn't even finished when another anthem played and out came some scary-looking men wearing black shirts with a yellow 'N' in the front. The one at the centre began speaking in a thick British accent about how much of a loser he was and yata. Soon enough, they announced a match tonight between Cena and someone named David Otunga.

There were a couple of interesting matches that night. There was one among the Divas, too. Surprisingly, at the end of the night after Cena had won, Svetlana found she had actually enjoyed herself.

Paul was looking smug when the people started to file out. "Worth it, wasn't it?"

Svetlana rolled her eyes and playfully smacked him. "Yeah, it was. But I can't wait to get to bed. You ready to go?"

Standing up, Paul checked his BlackBerry and grabbed Svetlana by the hand. She let him lead her out of the arena. But instead of taking the exit that everyone else was heading to, they wheeled around to a large black door just beside the ramps.

"Is this an alternate exit?" Svetlana asked, eyeing the long hallway that the door led to.

Paul shook his head. "John asked us to meet him at his locker room. It's the same place as the Celtics locker room, so it shouldn't be hard to find."

Svetlana groaned when her reunion with her Italian-linen sheets had to get delayed again. She followed Paul as he made his way through the hallway that seemed to never end. They reached the right locker room after a couple of minutes. Paul knocked on the door and opened it up when a voice told them to come in.

"Figured it was you." Cena grinned, standing up from a wooden bench. Svetlana was quick to blush when she realized he still had his shirt off. But it wasn't as if she wasn't enjoying the view.

"Awesome show, man," Paul praised, shaking John's hand.

He smiled widely and Svetlana noticed he had dimples. She could feel her legs melting at the sight. "Nah, you're just saying that," John remarked humbly.

"Not at all, Cena. Even Svetlana here couldn't get enough of you," Paul said, laughing. He was probably just joking but the colour rose in Svetlana's cheeks when Cena's attention drifted to her.

Quick to recover, she shrugged off the comment like it hadn't affected her at all. "What can I say. You impressed me tonight, Cena. I know you were probably dying to holler 'I owned you, bitch.' After that Wade Barrett drama."

"Glad to have entertained the sexiest woman alive," John replied coolly. Svetlana – who was quickly melting – expected John to laugh at his jest but he just kept looking at her as if he wanted to eat her up. The face of Victoria's Secret couldn't do anything but bite her lip and look away.

"Hey Paul, one of the Divas is having her birthday party today at the bar in Ritz-Carlton. Would you guys care to come? I'm sure Maryse wouldn't mind." The question was addressed to her brother but Cena's eyes were right on Svetlana.

"What do you think, S?" Paul asked. "I know you have your interview tomorrow but I'm guessing this would be fun. And it's at the Ritz-Carlton so you could easily head back up to your room."

Svetlana hardly looked at her brother. Her glittering green eyes were too preoccupied as they challenged a pair of blue ones. "I've never been one to turn down a good time."

John Cena smiled triumphantly. "All right then. I'll see you in an hour."

John Cena had longed admired Svetlana Clarke from afar but now that she was practically touching every part of him as she grinded her hips with his, he just wanted to eat this girl whole. They had spent almost the entire night together, talking, drinking and dancing. She was enticing as hell and Cena felt like the luckiest asshole in town. People would be talking about this tomorrow but he couldn't care less, really.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered into her ear.

Giggling, Svetlana turned to face him. She obviously had too much to drink. "What are you going to do about it?"

Before he knew it, his mouth came down on hers. She was obviously startled, seeing that she didn't respond right away. But John kissed more deeply and she kissed back, with the same passion. They stood in the middle of the dance floor, kissing each other like their life depended on it.

Pulling away to look into each other's eyes, each one was filled with the same amount of lust and hunger. They weaved their way through the crowd until they reached the elevator and this time, Svetlana wrapped her hands around John's head and brought it down on her awaiting lips. John was only ever-so willing to respond and he devoured her mouth. He pulled up her ass so that he was carrying her and her legs were wrapped tightly around his body – all this, without pulling away.

When the elevator bell sounded for Svetlana's floor, she pried herself away from John and ran out giggling to her room. John laughed too and chased her. He saw her standing in front of one of the doors, smiling at the floor and looking up from beneath her lashes when she noticed him coming. Just as she managed to open the door, John slammed her into the wall and kissed her hungrily. Svetlana giggled between kisses and he led her to the bed.

He set her down on the comforter and his lips came down on her again; this time, making their way on her exposed neck. He trailed kisses on her neck down to her shoulder over and over until she was shivering in delight. Her soft hands lifted his black polo over his head and with the same quickness, John zipped off her red Valentino dress. Her seamless bra was quick to follow.

Svetlana moaned in pleasure when John's mouth captured an exposed bud. He continued his tongue bath on the right nipple as he kneaded the left and vice versa. Svetlana bit her lip to keep from screaming at the sensation. Keeping one hand on her breast, his fingers travelled lightly down to her panties. Before she could react at all, he captured her lips with his own again just as a slender finger slid into her core. She gasped against the kiss, her nails digging into John's hair as he continued to kiss her and pleasure her. The pleasure was exquisite.

John removed her panty off in a flash as he ripped off his own boxers. Soon enough, they were skin to skin. John stayed on top of her, panting slightly. The two of them stared into each other's eyes, not saying a word, afraid to break the magic. She traced his face with a delicate finger as his eyes searched hers. She knew what he was asking for. She nodded before he slid into her and she groaned at the sensation of him inside of her. She was obviously ready for him and he began moving in and out of her as he built a rhythm. She could feel her mind go hazy at the sensation. He was seeing stars as he neared his edge. He continued to pound in and out, until he got faster and both of them were groaning in pleasure. They climaxed together as he fell on top of her, both of them panting. His head was lying near her heart and she stroked his hair lovingly.

That would be the beginning of a pretty twisted relationship.

The next few months, John and Svetlana would meet all across the country to pick up where they had left off – but always in secret. They were surprisingly discreet for such huge celebrities. John was usually the one who initiated their meetings. Once he found out they would be staying in the same city, he would borrow some person's cell or drop by a phone booth to call Svetlana. He never used his own Treo. Svetlana never denied him. They would meet up at the hotel he had said – arriving an hour apart, to stay safe – and it would be as if they were the only two people in the world. They'd kiss like there would be no tomorrow. They'd make love like it was the first time. It was another world when they were together.

But after they left each hotel room, it would be like they didn't know each other at all. They had agreed this wasn't the best thing to be bragging about. After all, they had reputations to uphold and they both knew this was going anywhere but a relationship. That way, they could satiate each other's lusts without anyone ever having to know.

But keeping things secret was proving to be a harder task for both of them. Especially when certain feelings start to arise...

Svetlana Clarke was beginning to feel a little cranky. You could tell by the way she was pouting as she looked out of the cafe window that something was really irritating her. But even with a scowl on her face, she was still the most beautiful woman within a 500-mile radius.

That's downplaying it, though. She was still the most beautiful woman in the planet regardless.

Oblivious to the fact that all the waiting staff was distracted by her mere presence, Svetlana Clarke continued to frown at her gold and emerald-encrusted serpentine Cartier watch as it continued to move farther from 10 A.M. Dionne was late. Again.

Playing with the soft fabric of her camel Dries Von Noten romper, Svetlana rolled her eyes to herself, wondering why she was still surprised. This was hardly the first time her best friend had showed up late. Svetlana tried to remember when the last time was that Dionne had actually been punctual but thinking about it made her head hurt and made her all the more cranky. She had even bought a dark chocolate-glazed donut in desperation but the usually comforting treat did none of its magic today.

Two more donuts, a blueberry muffin and three coffee refills later, Dionne still hadn't arrived. Svetlana's mood had gone from sour to rotten. The couch beside her had been occupied by about four different people already. Her best friend had horrible punctuality but this was beyond worse. Unless Dionne came with a Spider 360, two tickets to The Hyatt and a one year supply at FrizBerry, there was no way she was talking to her for another year.

In a frustrated blur, she picked up her vintage gray woollen boyfriend jacket from the armrest and stormed out of the little cafe, unto the unforgiving streets of New York. When she hit the road, a swarm of photographers blocked her way to her car. And just her luck, one of them had to be TMZ.

"Svetlana, you didn't seem too happy in there," the camera guy commented.

No shit, Sherlock. She wished she could say it out loud. But she loved Harvey. She just hated the people that worked for him. Quickly faking a smile, she gave a nonchalant shrug. "Friend bailed. Just stopped by for some brunch. You want some of this?"

She showed him the paper bag with the leftover donut. The cameras clicked even more feverishly. The camera guy focused his lens on the paper bag but thanked her and denied it. Fortunately for her, the donut had caused quite a stir and some of the photographers cleared to give Svetlana just enough room to slide into her Jaguar.

Just as she started the engine, her iPhone began playing the first lines of Rude Boy. An unknown number displayed on the screen. Automatically, Svetlana slid a dainty finger on the screen.

"Is this you?" John's familiar voice came through the line, instantly making her feel warmer.

"No this is Dionne Vladavitch of The Four Seasons New York. Would you like a reservation, sir?"

She could practically see him rolling his eyes now but she felt like this was the way to blow off some steam. "I recommend the Presidential suite, located at the twentieth floor. The view is spectacular and the room is by far the best of the hotel. And for an extra two dollars, I'll throw in a lap dance for you."

"Via, you can stop now. Nobody's laughing."

But she was on a roll. "Add in another five fifty and you get to watch me strip. A ten and I'm all yours. Shall I include the bitch-didn't-show-up-on-me promo now, sir? It's a bargain."

John sighed loudly. "You sound upset."

"The hell I am," she practically screamed. She knew this was unfair for John, who had nothing to do with Dionne being late but she was just so damn angry that she felt she had to let this go. "Try 'extremely pissed' or 'raging mad' – those would be more appropriate. But that doesn't matter right now. Did you want something?"

Of course he did. Why else would he call?

"I want to see you tonight."

"Sure thing," her voice had no hesitation whatsoever. She immediately began recalling their standard protocol for New York. The Four Seasons, 8 P.M. at the room John is staying in. Usually somewhere at the twentieth floor. "I can't meet you before eight, though. Which room?"

"I want to do something different tonight," he said. Svetlana raised a brow.

"So... nine p.m.?"

"How about dinner at Butter?"

Svetlana choked on her own saliva. Did he really just say that? "Are...are you asking me out?" she stuttered.

"If it's okay with you, of course." He sounded so nonchalant about it, like they did this every day. No, they did not do this everyday. They may have had sex on a regular basis but they had never dated ever before.

She honestly didn't know what to say but finally she found her voice. "What brought this on?"

"Look, Vi, if you don't want to do it..."

"No! I mean, yes! I want to! I'm just...curious, that's all. I mean, for a long time all we ever did was..."

"Have sex?" John sighed. "This is exactly why I want to take you out. I don't want you to feel like you're just some booty call, Via."

Svetlana's eyes widened. What in the world was he getting at? "John, you've never made me feel like that, I swear. You've actually been a pretty good friend to me these past months."

Okay, maybe she was laying it on thick. They barely talked when they met up, except when he made the call. John would leave almost immediately after he was satisfied and on a few occasions, she had to work extra hard to cover up their tracks. But she didn't want him to feel bad when the time she spent with him were the best of her life.

"No, Via. I know how I've treated you and it makes me feel sick that I'm treating you like some... whore. But you're more than that. I promise you, you're anything but a slut. I hope you know that you've been an amazing companion these past months and just an overall amazing person. I'm sorry that I took you for granted and I swear I'll make it up to you. Starting now, I wont force you into anything you don't want to do. You hold the ropes now."

It was ridiculous how those words made her feel all gooey inside. John could be such a romantic when he wanted to be. "Thank you for the thought, John. I really appreciate it. But you've never made me feel that way. If anything, you've made me feel more special."

She hoped to God that didn't sound too corny. She would die if he started laughing right now.

Luckily, he didn't. In fact, he sounded very serious when he said, "But that doesn't change how guilty I feel."

"Your feelings are irrelevant, John. I understand what you feel but please let it go. You're too much of a saint to upset anybody, anyway."

"Please say you'll go to dinner." Man was he persistent.

Svetlana sighed. "Fine. But only if you stop this ridiculous self-pity thing you've got going."

"Thank you, Vi. I'll see you tonight." He hung up and she couldn't help but feel irritated when she noticed that he hadn't said he would stop.

But she couldn't help but feel excited too.

She was finally going out with John Cena.