Football Manager: Running a Rip-off club

After finishing his post-match chat with the players inside the locker room—reminders, praise, and a few warnings about not going overboard during the short break—Arthur finally stepped outside. The hallway was quiet again, save for one very familiar figure standing near the door.

Shakira.

She had her arms crossed, a playful pout on her lips, but the flicker of annoyance in her eyes was hard to miss.

"So, Mr. Boyfriend," she said, her voice carrying a trace of mock resentment, "it's been over two months since we've seen each other. Didn't you say you were going to visit me?"

Arthur slowed down as he approached her, rubbing the back of his neck a little sheepishly. He looked down at her with an apologetic smile and a softened tone.

"I know. I'm sorry, Shakira. The season just started, and with everything happening at the club, it's been hectic. I really didn't have a spare moment. But hey—if you miss me that much, you could always come visit me like you did today?"

That last sentence slipped out with a teasing smile, and to his amusement, it earned a faint blush from the South American superstar. She glanced away for a second, her voice dropping slightly and tinged with something shy.

"Uh… I didn't miss you!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Really? You just happened to show up at the door of my locker room, by coincidence?"

"Hmph!" she huffed, folding her arms tighter. "That's because I wanted to watch the game. Football, remember? That's what you do, right?"

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle at her stubborn act. Her prideful deflection only made her look even more adorable in his eyes. He stepped forward, gently placed his hands on either side of her face, and turned her toward him.

"So I guess this kiss I was about to give you should be redirected to the match ball instead?" he teased, leaning in close.

But just before their lips could meet, an unmistakable whistle pierced through the quiet hallway.

"Woooooo~~~ Boss! Is that the boss lady?"

Arthur froze, and so did Shakira. Slowly, he turned his head.

The entire Leeds United squad had just exited the locker room and were now lined up like schoolboys outside the door, arms folded, wide grins plastered across their faces. And in the middle of them, looking like a cat who'd just caught the canary, was Rivaldo, wearing the smuggest grin of the bunch.

Arthur sighed dramatically and shot him a mock glare. "You lot have too much time on your hands."

He raised a foot toward Rivaldo like he was about to kick him, though the smile on his face gave away his amusement. "Alright, enough standing around being nosey. What are you, high school gossip girls ! Two days off. Enjoy it. I want everyone back in training Tuesday morning, no excuses!"

"Hahahaha! Thanks, boss!" Rivaldo flashed his trademark grin, his white teeth practically glowing under the hallway lights. He spun around and waved the rest of the team on. "Let's go, boys. Don't interrupt the boss's romantic moment!"

With hoots and chuckles, the team followed him, some throwing exaggerated winks in Arthur's direction. Even Maicon clapped slowly in mock appreciation, like he'd just witnessed a scene from a rom-com.

But the final dagger came from young Piqué, who lingered behind with a sly grin and a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

"Boss," he said innocently, "your girlfriend is stunning boss. If she's got a sister, you think you could introduce me?"

That did it.

Laughter erupted again from down the corridor as the players roared in amusement. Arthur rolled his eyes, raising both hands in mock surrender. "Unbelievable."

He looked at Shakira, who was doing her best to hide her own laughter behind a hand.

Arthur shook his head and muttered under his breath, "Good grief. I steal your future girlfriend and now you want me as your brother-in-law?" He thought with a smirk, "At least this time, let's hope you don't end up sleeping with a teammate's mom, eh?"

Shakira finally burst into laughter, leaning into him as the last of the players disappeared around the corner, still joking and ribbing each other.

"Well," she said with a satisfied sigh, "your team has personality."

"That's one word for it."

"And you," she said, wrapping her arm around his waist, "owe me a date. A real one. Not locker room drama."

Arthur looked down at her with a smile and tightened his arm around her shoulders.

"Deal," he said. "But only if you don't bring a crew next time."

Shakira gave him a playful punch in the side, then grinned. "No promises."

They walked off together, side by side, her head leaning against his shoulder, as the echo of laughter faded behind them and the lights of Elland Road glowed warmly around them.

****

The next morning, Arthur stirred awake, his mind still hazy from sleep. As his eyes blinked open, the first thing he noticed was the empty space beside him. The sheets were still warm, but the pillow was undisturbed. For a moment, he frowned—until a faint clatter reached his ears.

It was coming from downstairs. The soft clink of cutlery, the rhythmic scrape of a spatula, and the unmistakable sound of something sizzling. Cooking.

Arthur pushed the covers aside and stretched, then made his way to the bathroom. After a quick wash, he pulled on a t-shirt and headed down the stairs. The morning sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a golden glow over the quiet house.

Just as he reached the last step, a figure appeared from the kitchen.

It was Shakira.

She was wearing one of his white dress shirts—far too big on her, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, the hem brushing her thighs. Her hair was tied back into a loose ponytail, a few strands falling messily around her face. She looked effortlessly beautiful, the kind of beauty that didn't need effort or makeup.

In her hands, she carried a plate of toast glistening with butter and strawberry jam, the scent drifting through the air. She spotted him and smiled.

"Good morning," she said, her voice soft and cheerful. "Just in time. Breakfast's ready."

Arthur leaned against the railing and eyed her shirt with a smirk. "Why are you wearing my shirt?"

Shakira gave him a pointed look, though there was amusement in her eyes. "Because someone tore my clothes last night."

Arthur raised his eyebrows innocently. "Did I?"

"You did," she said, setting the plate down on the dining table. "You were like a man possessed."

He scratched the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. "Right… I guess two months apart was a bit too long."

After leaving Elland Road the night before, they'd gone to a small bar just to talk, unwind, and share a few drinks. The conversation turned playful. Then flirty. Then everything escalated the moment they got home. After two months of distance, there was little point pretending restraint.

They barely made it to the bedroom.

Now, the calm after the storm.

Arthur pulled out a chair and sat down as she poured two glasses of milk. She slid one over to him, then sat down across from him, resting her chin in her hand as she watched him take a bite of the toast.

"So," she said, sipping from her glass. "Do you have any plans for the next two days?"

Arthur shook his head. "Not really. We've got a short break before training resumes on Tuesday. Why?"

Her expression brightened instantly, her voice lifting with a hopeful tone. "Well, I'm heading to Spain this afternoon. I've got a concert on Wednesday night in Barcelona. There's rehearsal Monday, but I'm off the day after. Thought maybe…"

Arthur leaned back slightly, toast in hand. He didn't need her to finish the sentence. He knew exactly what she was asking.

An invitation. No, more than that—a chance to spend time together. Time they hadn't had in weeks.

He thought about the schedule. If he left today, he'd miss two days of training. But Diego Simeone was at the club now—his trusted assistant. The team could manage without him briefly. And then something else clicked in his mind.

Spain.

Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly in thought, and he mumbled, "Spain…"

There was something Tuchel had mentioned to him recently. Something about a scout report. A promising midfielder in La Liga Arthur had meant to check out in person. If he played it right, this trip could serve a dual purpose.

"I might be able to make this work," he said suddenly, placing the toast back on the plate.

Shakira's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah, give me a minute."

Without another word, Arthur pushed his chair back and jogged up the stairs, his mind already racing. If he handled this properly, he'd get a couple of days with his girlfriend and squeeze in a little scouting work. Killing two birds with one stone—and looking romantic while doing it.

Shakira watched him go, her smile growing. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs.

Arthur came back downstairs, freshly dressed and energized, spotting Shakira still sitting at the breakfast table sipping her coffee. She looked up the moment she heard his steps and tilted her head playfully.

Arthur grinned. "Alright, I'm coming with you to Spain. But—" he raised a hand before she could react, "I'll have to handle some work stuff while you're in rehearsal. Just small meetings, nothing major."

Shakira's eyes lit up with excitement. She stood and walked over, then tiptoed to plant a soft kiss on his lips. "You better not back out later," she teased, wrapping her arms lightly around his neck.

He gave a soft laugh, placing his hands gently on her hips. "Don't worry. I'll be there. Besides…" he smiled, "how could I say no when my girlfriend flies across the continent just to bring me toast in my own shirt?"

She giggled. "Since I'm already here, you owe me something else too."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? What's that?"

Her tone turned spoiled and charming. "A proper tour. No more work excuses. I want the Arthur experience—Leeds edition."

Arthur leaned in close, dropping his voice to a murmur. "Yes, dear. No work. Only you."

****

By mid-morning, they were out the door. Arthur, dressed casually in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans, with sunglasses perched on his nose, led the way through the heart of Leeds. Shakira wore a simple sundress and her hair tied in a low bun, trying to keep a low profile, though a few locals did a double-take as they walked by.

Their first stop was Kirkgate Market, one of the largest indoor markets in Europe. Shakira's eyes widened at the colorful stalls.

"This is where you shop?" she asked, glancing at handmade crafts and local foods.

Arthur shrugged with a grin. "Sometimes. It's got everything—from fresh bread to weird antique clocks. Thought you'd like it."

They strolled through the aisles, occasionally stopping so Shakira could admire some trinket or try a sample from a local cheese stall. At one point, a little girl tugged at her mother's sleeve, pointing at Shakira in awe. Arthur noticed and subtly moved them along, not wanting to cause a scene.

After the market, he brought her to the Leeds Corn Exchange, where the Victorian architecture immediately caught her eye. Shakira stepped inside and looked up at the grand glass dome ceiling.

"This place is beautiful," she whispered, twirling slowly in the center. "It feels like something from a music video."

"Want to shoot one here?" Arthur joked.

She laughed. "Maybe. As long as you dance in it."

"Then definitely not," Arthur replied, deadpan.

They had lunch at a small bistro tucked away near the city center, seated at an outdoor table shaded by vines. The food was simple but delicious—Arthur had a steak sandwich, while Shakira ordered a grilled chicken salad.

Between bites, she asked, "Do you miss playing?"

He paused, sipping his drink. "Sometimes. But I've found something else I love just as much."

She smiled knowingly. "Coaching?"

Arthur nodded. "It's different, but seeing them grow, pulling off a plan that we worked on in training… it's rewarding. Plus, I still get to yell on the sidelines."

"That you do well," she teased. "I heard you almost lost your voice last match."

He rolled his eyes. "That was passion. Not yelling."

After lunch, they wandered around the Leeds Dock area, enjoying the riverside view and stopping to watch people kayaking along the canal. Arthur took Shakira's hand in his, casually swinging their arms as they strolled.

"You're not bored?" he asked at one point.

She glanced at him. "Are you joking? I get tired of luxury hotels and planes. This? This is real. This is you."

The sun was beginning to lower in the sky by the time they made it back to Arthur's house. He glanced at his watch and sighed. "Alright, I've got to wrap up some club things now, or we're going to miss the flight."

Shakira gave a mock pout. "Fine. But make it quick. I'm packing your bag in the meantime."

"Don't put in anything ridiculous."

"I already picked your airport outfit. It's cute."

Arthur chuckled and shook his head as he drove to the training grounds of Leeds United.