by Susan Stoker
“Jake, do you have anything to say about the bar fight you were involved in on Tuesday night?”
“Jake, is there any truth to the recent allegations made against you by your former teammate?”
“Jake, do you think your two-week suspension cost the Hawks their chances in the Premiership?”
“Jake! Jake! Jake!”
Bloody hell.
I was stunned.
The blinding flashes and shouted questions disoriented me, and I had to step closer to Jake, needing to ground myself.
This was nothing like I’d expected. Nothing. This was…insane. My only experience with photographers were the ones who did the rounds at parties I’d attended, unobtrusively snapping pictures and occasionally asking for posed photos. This was at the opposite end of the spectrum.
I glanced up at the tall, silent man next to me, and a rush of empathy filled me, taking me by surprise. Stepping closer to him, I squeezed his hand, a show of solidarity, and I might have imagined it, but I could have sworn his fingers tightened imperceptibly around mine.
When we were safely inside a black cab, heading away from the mob, I spoke. “Is it…is it always that intense?”
He continued to stare out of the window. “Yeah. Sometimes it’s worse.”
“Oh. I’m sorry—”
“I don’t need your sympathy,” he growled. “All you need to do is show up, look pretty, and when the paps realise that I’ve changed my ways”—that bit was accompanied by an eye roll—“—they’ll get bored and we can go our separate ways.”
I didn’t even bother replying. It was obvious that he wasn’t interested in getting to know me. Not that I particularly wanted to know him, either.
The drive back to Ethan’s apartment block was silent. And when I left the cab, he didn’t even return my goodbye.
6
Jake
“Ethan’s plan was a fail.” Shoving my clothes into my locker, I slammed it shut with a bang. “Did you see the headlines?”
Alex followed me out of the changing room and down the long, wide corridor that led to the rugby pitch. “I saw. From the photos, I’m not surprised no one was buying your story. You both looked uncomfortable as fuck.”
“That’s because we were.” Jogging out onto the pitch, we headed over to join the rest of our teammates, who were gathering around the manager.
Just before we reached the others, he stopped, tugging on my arm. “You’ve just got to sell it to them. They want a love story. Give them one.”
His words stayed with me all through the day’s training.
How the fuck were we supposed to sell a love story that neither of us believed in?
The answer came to me when I was in the showers after training. We’d have to practice. Practice being around each other, invading each other’s personal space. My place was out—I never invited women there. Victoria was staying at Ethan’s, so that was a no go, too.
That left one place.
Savage Boxing Gym.
“Who’s that?” The admiring words were accompanied by a low whistle, and I turned from where I was stacking branded water bottles on the metal shelves next to the front desk, to see who had caught the eye of my brother, Axel.
Victoria stood in the gym entrance, looking completely out of place. While her outfit was gym appropriate, as I’d suggested, it looked like the kind that was designed for posing on social media with, not doing any actual workouts. Tight leggings decorated in slashes of greys and pinks hugged her slim legs. A matching top clung to her curves, showcasing her full tits.
My dick decided that now would be a good time to wake up.
Look. Away. From. Her. Boobs.
Fucking hell. I blinked, then rubbed at my eyes, forcing myself to continue my perusal rather than lingering. No makeup, not that she needed it. Big brown eyes fringed with long lashes, a heart-shaped mouth with a fuller bottom lip. And all that long, dark hair, pulled back in a ponytail as it had been every time I’d seen her.
I guess I must’ve taken more than a superficial glance.
Rolling my eyes at myself, I went to turn back around, to carry on stacking the shelves and make her come to me, when a flash of white caught my eye, so bright that I needed fucking sunglasses to look directly at them. Before I knew it, I was crossing the room, coming to a stop right in front of her.
“What are those?” I curled my lip, staring down at her feet.
“What?” She followed the direction of my gaze. “They’re trainers.”
“Did you polish them? Why are they so bright?”
“Why are they so bright?” she echoed, her brow creasing. “That’s how they look. They’re new.” Her gaze went to my trainers then, which had admittedly seen better days. She refrained from saying anything, though, which I guess made her a better person than me.
“I’m assuming by all this”—I waved my hand, encompassing the length of her body—“you haven’t worked out before.”
“Assume whatever you want.” With a flick of her hair, that on her somehow still managed to look classy, she strutted into the gym.
Axel stared after her with his tongue practically hanging out, so I cuffed him around the head. “Leave her alone. She’s here for me, not you.”
“You didn’t tell me she looked like that.”
“Looks don’t matter. She’s doing Ethan a favour, and she’s not my type, or yours. Rich society girl. Her ex is some posh twat with an unpronounceable name.”
“Okaaaaay.” He held up his hands, backing away. “Message received.”
Instead of responding, I jogged over to catch up with Victoria, and grabbing her arm maybe a bit tighter than necessary, I pulled her out of the main gym away from the sets of eyes that were all over her, and into the corridor leading to the break room. The staff used it to relax between shifts or if the gym was quiet and we wanted to take turns taking a break. There was a tan leather sofa, all faded and cracked with age, a TV, and a table and chairs that we ate at sometimes. Other than a dartboard on the wall, there was nothing else of note in the room.
Pushing the door open with my shoulder, I tugged her into the room, then locked the door behind us. I’d already given Axel a rundown of the situation, but I wouldn’t put it past him to try and interrupt us.
“What are we doing?” She glanced around the room before returning her gaze to me. “You told me to dress in workout clothes, but this doesn’t look like we’re working out.”
“Obviously not.” I crossed to the sofa and sprawled out on it, leaving her the choice of the narrow space I’d left next to me or the dining table. “Thought you wouldn’t stand out like a sore thumb here if you dressed in gym clothes. I didn’t expect you to show up in that, though.”
She almost rolled her eyes, her cool facade cracking for a moment, and I bit back a smile. Suddenly, I had a new goal, in addition to improving my rep. I was going to get Victoria Barrett to crack.
“I’m sorry that you can’t appreciate good taste.” She delivered her words in such a sweet voice that it was actually hard to tell if she was being sarcastic or was genuinely sorry about my apparent poor taste.
“Tori. Take a seat.” I patted the sofa cushion next to me, feeling the springs under my hands. “We need to sell our story to the media. If you can’t even sit next to me, I doubt we’re gonna fool anyone.”
“Tori?” The only reaction I got was a cocked brow, but I swore I detected a hint of annoyance in her eyes. Good.
I didn’t know why I was enjoying getting a reaction from her, but it was satisfying. Maybe I should lay off, though. She was doing me a favour, after all.
The next second, she took me by surprise by lowering herself onto the sofa next to me. She was close, too close. I could smell her perfume—something citrusy but with a kind of hint of something woodsy. Whatever it was, I found myself leaning forwards, trying to take it in.
“Do you mind?” She leaned away from me.
“Not really.” I shrugged. “What’
s that perfume?”
A faint flush appeared on her cheeks, something I wouldn’t have even noticed if she hadn’t been without makeup. “It’s called Bombshell, if you must know. What’s yours? Eau de Gym?”
I couldn’t help it. My mouth turned up in a wide grin, my dimples popping out. It was rare that someone would amuse me that much, but she’d caught me off guard.
Now, the flush on her cheeks deepened as she stared at me, and I could see the moment she sucked in a sharp breath. It just so happened that it made her sexy-as-fuck tits rise and fall with the movement.
My dick responded to that, and I shifted, changing position and hoping like fuck my loose gym shorts would hide the evidence.
“Okay, enough messing around.” I redirected the conversation before things (aka my dick) got out of hand. “We need to work on making things seem more natural. None of the paps seemed to think we were anything more than friends, based on the articles I saw.”
“You’re right.” She was all business again. “I’ve been thinking about it. We need to work on becoming more comfortable around each other, then we need to be seen somewhere that we’re going to be caught on camera. I want this to get back to my mother, and while the gossip will eventually reach her ears, she generally avoids the tabloids like the plague. If we could maybe go somewhere that would have society photographers as well, then it would be sure to reach her. Plus, she’d take it more seriously if it was in the society pages.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know. Aren’t you rugby boys all connected? Didn’t you all go to Harrow or Eton together?”
“Excuse me. I resent that stereotype. If you must know, I grew up in Croydon, in a three-bed terrace with my parents and three brothers.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to generalise.” To her credit, she actually looked contrite.
“But yeah, maybe one or two of my teammates might have gone to one of those schools,” I admitted. “They’re a lot more connected than me, that’s for fucking sure. I’ll talk to them.”
“Good.” She smiled, and for some reason, I couldn’t look away.
We held eye contact for longer than we should’ve, until she dropped her gaze, clearing her throat. “I also spoke to Avery. She works at one of the West End theatres, so I thought that could be a good place for us to be seen at. Some nice, cultural entertainment.”
“You don’t wanna drag me to watch Magic Mike Live or something?”
“Why would I want to watch them when I have you?” As soon as the words had come out, she clapped her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant, as far as the paparazzi is aware, we’re in a relationship.”
Somehow, I found myself smiling again. That was twice in one evening. Two times too many, in my opinion.
“This is good. We’re already acting more naturally around each other, aren’t we?” Her gaze rose to mine again, her expression hopeful, and all I could do was nod.
“You’re not as bad as I thought you were going to be.”
“Thanks,” she said dryly.
This time there was a definite eye roll, and I internally congratulated myself.
“So.” I stretched my arm across the back of the sofa and around her slim shoulders.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was alarmed.
“Relax. This won’t work in public if you can’t do it in private.”
“Right.” Gradually, she leaned back against me.
When she was fully relaxed, I let my fingertip stroke across the top of her arm in small, slow circles. “Good.”
She shifted, angling her head to face me. “We can do this, can’t we?”
“Yeah. We’re professionals.” I lifted my free hand, sliding my fingers between hers. Her face was so close to mine, I could feel her breath on my skin as she leaned into me, her gaze dropping to my lips.
“Great!” Without any warning, she was suddenly pulling away from me and jumping off the sofa. “I think we covered everything. Text me with details of the next meetup.”
Then, she was gone, and the only sign that she’d been here was the lingering scent of her perfume. What the fuck had just happened?
7
Victoria
I’d been running scared, I’d admit it. When I realised how close I was to closing the distance between us and kissing Jake, I had to get out of there as quickly as I could. He probably thought I was crazy, running out of there without even a proper goodbye.
The thing was, he was so far from my type, it was laughable. The sudden, shocking attraction had scrambled my brain. Even now, two days later, I was struggling to get my head around it.
He’d sent me a text last night to ask if I’d attend a bar opening tonight—one of his friends, an ex-player, had teamed up with a celebrity chef to open a bar/restaurant. It was more like the kind of event we’d need to be seen at, so I’d agreed straight away.
I’d spent the last hour convincing myself that I’d imagined the attraction to him, so when I stepped out of Ethan and Avery’s spare bedroom to unexpectedly find him standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in the lounge talking to Ethan, my breath caught in my throat.
Wow, the man wore a suit well. Really, really well. A deep blue colour, he’d paired it with a crisp white shirt, the top button undone. On his feet were tan leather oxfords, and a pair of cufflinks completed the look. I couldn’t see the design properly from where I was standing, but it looked much like a hawk head, the London Hawks crest. His dark hair was styled but still looked soft enough to run my hands through.
All in all…Jake Savage… He stunned me. There was no denying it. My heart began to beat a little faster as I stepped closer to him.
When he turned his head and saw me, I almost faltered at the look in his eyes, dark and predatory. Somehow, I managed to keep my composure, stepping across the room and coming to a stop right in front of him. I couldn’t meet his gaze, so I turned to my brother instead.
“That’s a lovely dress, V.” Ethan smiled at me. “Are you all ready for tonight?”
“Thank you. Avery picked it out,” I told him, watching his gaze go to his fiancée as she came to stand beside me. While I had on a simple knee-length dress in a pale pink colour, with a flowing skirt and fitted bodice, Avery was wearing a gorgeous fire-engine-red fitted dress that hit mid-calf, with towering heels.
My own heels were sky-high, meaning I didn’t have to tilt my head much to meet Jake’s eyes. When Ethan took Avery aside, drawing her into a kiss, our gazes collided.
“Ready to put on a show?” was all he said. He didn’t comment on my looks, and why would he? To him, I was just a means to an end. None of this was real.
I nodded silently, and he began walking straight to the doors, not waiting for me to catch up.
“Is everything okay?” Avery discreetly murmured in my ear.
“Everything’s fine.” I smiled, and she seemed to buy it. There shouldn’t have been any reason for the disappointment rising up inside me.
Thankfully, Ethan and Avery were attending the opening with us, since Barrett London had been responsible for the website and much of the marketing of the business. Luke and his girlfriend, Olivia, would be in attendance, too, so whatever happened, at least I wouldn’t be alone.
When we arrived at the bar, the cab pulled up behind a long line of other cabs, all dropping people off. The driver turned around to look at us. “You might be best getting out here, unless you don’t mind waiting in this queue. We could be here a while, though.”
I went to follow Ethan and Avery out of the cab, but Jake stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Wait. We want the cameras to capture us together, without any distractions.”
When he deemed it time to go, I carefully slid out of the cab, Jake right behind me with his hand on the small of my back. We crossed the small expanse of pavement to the roped-off area that marked the beginning of the part of the street that had been cordoned off, paparazzi and members of the public s
tanding behind the makeshift barriers, waiting to get a photo and a sound bite for their columns.
Jake was nowhere near being one of the most famous people attending, but since he was a tabloid favourite, the cameras swung our way as soon as the security guys unclipped the rope and motioned us to go through onto the red carpet. My body stiffened, and Jake unexpectedly slid his arm around me, pulling me into him. I was suddenly surrounded by his presence, all masculine strength and spicy deliciousness. What was it about him tonight? “Breathe,” he rasped in my ear, before turning his attention to the waiting paparazzi. I followed his cue and slipped my arm around his waist.
Then, we were in the midst of the chaos. Questions shouted left and right, cameras flashing all over the place, temporarily blinding me. This time, though, I was a little more prepared.
“Jake!” Next to me, I felt Jake sigh, but he tugged me in the direction of the woman brandishing a microphone at him. When we reached her, she gave him a beaming smile. “Care to introduce our readers to your lovely date?”
He looked down at me, and I could see the point where he steeled himself, stepping into performance mode. “This is Tori,” he murmured, bringing his hand up from my waist to caress my hair, lying in long curls down my back. “It’s new, but I’m looking forward to getting to know her better.”
The next second, he angled his head and kissed me softly on my lips.
When he pulled back, after what was probably only a second or two but felt like hours, my hand flew to my lips as I stared up at him, wide-eyed.
“The feeling seems to be mutual,” the journalist cut in with a smile, turning her attention to me. “Can you give me your full name, Tori? And who are you wearing?”
Somehow, I stumbled through the questions she shot at me, managing to remain outwardly composed. Jake’s unexpected kiss had disoriented me, and even though I knew it was just for show, there was a tiny part of me, deep down, that wished it had been real.
“No comment,” Jake clipped out, ushering us along the red carpet, and I realised that we’d almost reached the end of the line and were about to enter the doors to the bar. “This is fucking exhausting,” he muttered as the doors were opened for us and we stepped inside.