Chapter 29. He felt that Inzaghi had given him...
After the 17th round of Serie A matches, Serie A entered a 20-day winter break.
Having finally survived the hellish month of December, Ancelotti gave the team a 13-day break to allow the players to relax and recuperate, leaving only one week for warm-up and preparation for the second half of the season.
Of course, the players were not immediately relieved after the holiday. On the first day of the holiday, December 24, the club held a grand Christmas dinner, which all first-team players had to attend.
In addition to AC Milan insiders and team sponsors, the club also invited a large number of people from the fashion, media and sports industries and arranged a red carpet event.
Legends and their juniors interacted warmly, brand designers and fashion darlings chatted amicably, and stunning hosts and models vied for attention... A lavish banquet, filled with clinking glasses and extravagant entertainment, resembled a gala dinner for the sports world's elite.
Fino was attending this type of dinner for the first time, and he was a little nervous, but he hid it well.
On the red carpet, he imitated his teammates, pausing for a few minutes to smile and wave to the fans, and also posing for photos with the reporters.
No awkward movements, no stiffness, great, passed!
After entering the banquet hall, he hugged the club's senior management, shook hands with the representative of his personal sponsor, Adidas, and then, along with Maldini, greeted the Milan legends present.
No blushing, no incoherent speech, great, passed!
As long as he acts naturally, no one can detect his inner anxiety.
So easy!
After successfully completing these necessary procedures, Fino was free to move around.
He breathed a sigh of relief, grabbed a glass of water from the food area, and went straight back to the players' rest area to sit down and wait for the dinner to begin.
At this point, most of his teammates were still socializing. Just like Fino had to greet the Adidas representative, the players couldn't ignore the brands they were already working with, nor could they ignore the brands they were considering working with.
Fino didn't feel lonely; he enjoyed the rare tranquility amidst the clamor and revelry.
Compared to the brightly lit dance floor area, the rest area is dimly lit with a gentle, warm color tone, creating a sense of privacy and undisturbed comfort.
Fino sat quietly in his chair, tapping his glass rhythmically with his index finger as he casually observed the various social activities taking place on the dance floor.
The dinner was typical of Berlusconi's style: fine wine, delicious food, beautiful women, and an atmosphere of extravagance and decadence.
The dinner itself didn't have a strong football theme; the guests came with different purposes: business development, maintaining relationships, exchanging resources... or, looking for prey.
Athletes and beautiful women are a universally acknowledged perfect match, aren't they?
Every player known for his charm is surrounded by a group of beautiful women, like Inzaghi.
Under the dazzling lights, Inzaghi's eyes were dreamy, his smile captivating, and he effortlessly uttered sweet words and compliments, drawing beautiful women into his trap like moths to a flame.
He moved among the flowers with ease and skill.
Fino's heart was gradually filled with bitterness and jealousy.
Inzaghi was naturally charming and amorous, with a captivating yet dangerous aura. He exuded charm regardless of time, place, or person, and Fino always understood this perfectly.
His elusive and unpredictable nature, coupled with Zaji's enigmatic attitude, gradually stirred Fino's emotions.
Tonight, when Fino witnessed Inzaghi mingling with women, the bitterness and jealousy that welled up in his heart made him realize his own heart. He realized that he had unknowingly developed feelings that he shouldn't have.
He felt that Inzaghi had cast a spell on him, and at that moment the worm was stirring in his heart, itchy and numb, as if it was about to burst open his heart and crawl out of his chest.
The beautiful women surrounding Inzaghi could at least flirt with him openly, while he could only sit in a dimly lit corner, performing a one-man show in his heart.
He had no reason to be jealous; he and Inzaghi had no relationship beyond being teammates.
Given Inzaghi's personality, perhaps he was just teasing him casually when he was bored, and he foolishly fell head over heels for it.
Reason told him that being dissolute and unrestrained was Inzaghi's nature, and that he was just being delusional, but he couldn't suppress the grievances in his heart.
What's going on here?
Inzaghi is such a bastard!
"Phineas, aren't you going to get some food?"
Nesta sat down next to Fino with a plate full of food.
Fino tried to calm himself down, regulated his breathing, and started chatting casually with Nesta.
Nesta did most of the talking, with Fino only occasionally responding.
Nesta went to the food area several times to get food, but Fino had no appetite and couldn't even drink water.
After a while, Pirlo came over with a wine glass and sat down on the other side of Fino.
Fino nodded to Pirlo, but Pirlo stared at his face for a few seconds before asking uncertainly, "Fino, you don't look well. Are you feeling unwell?"
Fino shook his head and didn't say anything.
"That's because Sandro is too annoying," Pirlo concluded immediately. "What's wrong, Sandro? Can't you shut up even after eating so much?"
"No way! We were having a great time chatting, don't talk nonsense." Nesta wasn't going to fall for such accusations, but after carefully observing Fino's expression, he became somewhat uncertain again.
"Finnie, are you really not feeling well? You're not eating anything."
Fino forced a smile and said nonchalantly, "What are you thinking! Of course I'm fine, it's just that the music is making my head throb. I'll be fine after a good night's sleep."
"What are your plans for the holiday?" He didn't want his friends to worry, so he started to distract Nesta and Pirlo.
The three of them started chatting about this topic again.
When Nesta went to the food court again to get food, he brought Fino a brownie.
As the start time of the dinner approached, the teammates ended their socializing and returned to the players' rest area to take their seats.
Kaka, who had been incredibly busy all evening, finally got a chance to catch his breath. He patted Pirlo on the shoulder: "Andrea, why did you take my seat?"
Pirlo said lazily, "I stared at it closely, looking up and down ten times, but there was no 'Kaka' on the seat."
Just then, Gattuso happened to pass by and, upon hearing this, asked in surprise, "Hey? Andrea, so you can widen your eyes?"
Pirlo gave him a meaningful look, and Gattuso fled in panic.
“But I’ve always been next to Fino, Andrea, why don’t you switch places!” Kaka grabbed Pirlo’s shoulders and shook him back and forth.
Pirlo was shaken so badly that he could only hold onto Fino's hand to steady himself.
"Mr. Double Champion, have some self-awareness about your popularity. You're definitely the focus of tonight's dinner. Go sit with Paul and don't bring the cameras over here; it'll interfere with our relaxing time in the corner."
Upon hearing Pirlo's words, Nesta immediately waved to Kaká, signaling him to leave quickly. Although Fino didn't speak, his eyes also conveyed a pleading tone.
Kaka pouted, slapped each of them on the back, and walked away somewhat unhappily.
Fino and the other two started chatting again.
“By the way, Fino, would you like to come over for Christmas? My mother misses you. If you’d like, we can take a night flight back to Rome together after dinner.” Nesta extended an invitation to Fino.
Fino felt like he was going to have a phobia of Rome. If he dared to spend Christmas at Nesta's house, would Ibrahimovic hire someone to assassinate him?
“You can also come to my house. I have a manor in Brejoia, which has a great Christmas atmosphere. It’s only a little over an hour’s drive away,” Pirlo also extended an invitation.
Fino refused them all.
He wasn't religious; Christmas meant nothing to him, it was just an ordinary winter day.
Moreover, he has no interest in visiting his teammates' families right now.
"What are you talking about?" a voice rang out, making Fino uneasy.
It was Inzaghi. He bent down across the back of the chair and gave Fino a loose hug, smiling and tilting his head to look at him.
Fino's heart began to pound violently.
He gently closed his eyes, silently cursing himself for being so useless.
"Let's chat casually." Fino pretended to want to eat something, leaning forward from the back of the chair and naturally breaking free from Inzaghi's arms.
Pirlo raised an eyelid and asked casually, "Dear Mr. Bee, how was the harvest tonight? Did any prey take the bait?"
“Soon.” Inzaghi looked at Pirlo meaningfully.
"Huh?" Nesta was still clueless. "You broke up with Sara Tommasi? I thought you'd changed your mind!"
Inzaghi smiled, turned and left without answering.
Fino kept his head down, poking at the cake in front of him with his fork, but his attention was focused on Inzaghi and the others' conversation. He silently made a note of the name "Sarah Tomasi".
He picked up a piece of cake with his fork and put it in his mouth, the chocolate flavor spreading in his mouth.
It's so sweet, and so bitter.
It's too bitter.
The dinner went very smoothly.
A perfectly coordinated band, a singer belting out a song, a witty host, and enthusiastic guests... all intertwined to create a wild and unrestrained carnival.
Amidst applause from the audience, Galliani led Alexander Pato to the center of the stage.
At this time, Pato had just turned 18, a year younger than Fino. He had a head of curly black hair and a shy smile, much like Kaká when he first came to Milan.
After the winter break, Pato will be able to put on Milan's red and black striped jersey and fight for Milan.
After his introduction, Pato was led by Maldini to the players' rest area and introduced to everyone.
Everyone greeted Pato with friendly smiles, giving him high-fives or handshakes. The Brazilians were even more affectionate, patting his head or giving him hugs. Ronaldo was already excitedly preparing to take Pato to experience the "nightlife" of Milan.
The atmosphere at the banquet reached its climax when Galliani announced Kaká as the team's best player.
There is no doubt that Kaka won the team's best player award; Kaka's performance in 2007 deserved this honor.
Because it was Christmas Eve, the dinner didn't last very late.
Home-loving players have time to wait for the midnight bells with their families to welcome Christmas, while players who want to continue partying can head to nightclubs.
The players' vacation has officially begun.
Fino sat on the sofa in the living room, lost in thought for a very long time.
As midnight approached and cheers of Christmas approached from outside the window, he finally made up his mind, turned on his computer, and typed in the search bar the name that had tormented him all night—Sarah Tomasi.
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