Game 4 Approaches, Lakers Will Never Be Slaves!

"How did you get here? Isn't your villa nearby?"

Li Fei's tense body relaxed. A delighted smile spread across his face as he walked over.

"I wanted to surprise you and celebrate our champion in advance." Monica Bellucci handed him one of the champagne glasses, rose onto her toes, and lightly kissed his lips, her breath fragrant. "Besides, I didn't want to see on the news that some energetic basketball superstar got tangled up with some Hollywood starlet after winning."

Li Fei laughed and pulled her into his arms, savoring her breathtaking softness and fragrance. Looking down at the jersey she was wearing—his jersey—he smiled. "You look much better in my jersey than I do."

"Really?" Monica Bellucci blinked, gently twisting in his embrace like a water snake. "Then next time you play, I'll wear it to the arena and cheer for you. How does that sound?"

"That won't do." Li Fei drained his champagne, casually set the glass on the table, then swept her up in his arms. "If you did that, I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to focus on the game. I'd only want to finish quickly and come home."

Amid Monica Bellucci's startled cry, Li Fei carried her toward the bedroom. The noise and glory outside seemed shut away in another world. This night belonged only to him and his Sicilian goddess.

There was no earthshaking celebration, only tender whispers and a wordless understanding that had seeped into their bones.

Monica Bellucci had prepared a simple pasta meal. Like the most ordinary married couple, they shared the joy of victory and each other's company.

Unlike the warm intimacy at the hotel, the atmosphere in another Los Angeles mansion was as cold as iron.

Kobe Bryant had not slept all night.

An old-fashioned VCR in his room