Losing Game: A Winning Ace Novel (Book 2)

by Tracie Delaney

  “Nothing changes,” Tally said.

  Em jumped before a flash of surprise crossed her face. “You scared the shit out of me,” she said as Tally removed one of the boxes from her friend’s overflowing arms. Em dropped the rest of her stuff on the floor and gave her a warm hug. “What are you doing here?”

  “Nice welcome,” Tally said dryly, one eyebrow slightly raised.

  “You know what I mean. I’m supposed to be visiting you this weekend. Are you sure it’s okay to be here? I wouldn’t put it past that bastard to have a private dick watching the flat in case you turn up.”

  Tally stifled a grin at just how close to the truth Em was. “I’ve made a stew. And you had no wine in the flat. Not like you.”

  Em raised one shoulder. “It’s no fun drinking alone. I’m serious, though, Tal. Are you sure you should be here?”

  “Stop worrying.” Tally strolled into the kitchen, trying to give an air of nonchalance. She lifted the Pinot and the Prosecco out of the fridge. “Which one?”

  “Bubbles first.” Em wandered over to the stove and stuck her nose in the pan. “That smells fab. I’m starving.”

  Tally passed the Prosecco to her. “You open that, and I’ll put the potatoes on.”

  “I was right, then.” Em poured the sparkling wine into two champagne flutes. She passed a glass to Tally.

  “About what?” Tally said, giving Em a confused look.

  Em looked her up and down. “You haven’t been eating properly. How much weight have you lost, babes?”

  Tally shrugged. “A few pounds, that’s all. Nothing I couldn’t afford to lose.”

  A flare of anger crossed Em’s face. “It looks like more than a few pounds to me.” And then she must have realised how harsh she sounded because she broke into a smile. “Let’s see what we can do to load some of it back on tonight.”

  With her bowl full of steaming hot stew, Tally followed Em into the living room and tucked her feet up on her favourite chair. She began eating and steeled herself for the inquisition. It didn’t take long.

  “What’s changed?”

  “What do you mean?” Tally said, mouth half-full as she locked gazes with Em.

  “Oh, come on,” Em scoffed. “When I spoke to you on Saturday, you were in a right state. And now, even though you’re as thin as a rake, you don’t have the appearance of someone whose heart is broken.”

  “My heart was broken,” Tally said, her voice small and wary.

  Em snorted. “Don’t play grammatical gymnastics with me. Even I know past tense when I hear it.”

  “Em,” she said with a sigh. “Let’s not do this right now. I want to eat my dinner in peace and find out what you’ve been up to.”

  “He’s got to you, hasn’t he?”

  Tally swallowed a piece of potato and let the silence linger. She was better than her friend at this game, but Em surprisingly kept her mouth shut and let the question hang in the air.

  Tally lifted her head, a half-embarrassed smile tugging at her lips. “It’s not what you think.”

  Em dropped her bowl of stew on the coffee table and folded her arms across her chest. “Really? Do tell me what I’m thinking, Tally.”

  Tally gnawed on the inside of her cheek. “Cash found me. In Brighton.”

  Em hissed through gritted teeth. “I knew it. The slimy fucking toad. You told him to sod off, right?”

  With her appetite rapidly waning, Tally set her stew down next to Em’s and wandered over to the window. The streetlamps had come on, casting weak light onto the road and the pavement. A man and a woman were walking their dog, taking turns to hold the lead. Must be a novelty.

  “Right, Tally?”

  Tally glanced over her shoulder to find Em watching her intently. She dug her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “He didn’t cheat on me, Em.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Tal.” Em dragged her fingers through her shoulder-length bob, tugging hard when she reached a knot. Several broken strands of hair fell on the arm of the sofa, and she brushed them to the floor. “I knew he’d win you round. You’ve been obsessed with him for too long.”

  “He didn’t cheat on me.”

  “So those photos of him kissing that woman. Photoshop?”

  “No.”

  “Then he did kiss her,” Em said, her tone triumphant, derisive.

  “A peck. That’s all. The photographer caught it at exactly the right moment.”

  “Convenient. Who is she?”

  Tally hesitated. She didn’t want to lie to Em but couldn’t tell her the truth. “An employee,” she finally said.

  “And what is she employed to do? Suck his cock when you’re not available?”

  Tally threw her hands out wide. “Emmalee! You’re not listening.”

  Em snorted again. “Wake up, Tal. What kind of boss sweeps his employees into his arms and kisses them on the lips? The cheating bloody kind, that’s who.”

  Tally sighed as she faced the window once more. Em was only giving her a hard time because she cared, but she didn’t understand. How could she be expected to when she only had half the story?

  Tally sensed rather than heard her leaving the room, but Em was back a minute or so later with the half-empty Prosecco bottle and her mobile phone.

  “Here,” Em said, thrusting the bottle at her. “You top us up, and I’ll call Pete and get him over here to knock some bloody sense into you.”

  Tally shook her head in despair. “Don’t call him, Em. Not yet.”

  Em jinked a hip to the side. “Give me one good reason why not.”

  Tally filled their glasses and took a sip. “Because you haven’t let me explain properly.”

  Em tossed her phone on the coffee table and collapsed onto the sofa. “I’m all ears,” she said, waving her hand in the air.

  Tally took a deep breath. “Cash came to Brighton to explain himself, and unlike last time, I listened to what he had to say. Once I heard the full story, I chose to believe him.”

  “Well, go on, then. What’s his brilliant excuse for kissing another woman?”

  Tally grimaced as she smoothed a hand over her hair. “I can’t tell you.”

  Em reached for her phone.

  “Do you trust me?” Tally said.

  Em let out a terse sigh, hand hovering over her mobile. “Babes, you know I do. But I also know you love Cash so deeply he could pretty much spin you any yarn, and you’d suck it up.”

  “It wasn’t a yarn.”

  “Then why won’t you tell me?”

  “Can’t, Em—not won’t.”

  She shrugged. “Same difference.”

  “No, it’s not.” Tally shuffled to the edge of her chair and leaned forwards, her forearms resting on her thighs. “I can’t tell you because what Cash chose to share with me is private and not something either of us want splashed across the front pages. The more people who know, the more likely his private life will make it into the papers. That’s why he asked me to keep it confidential, and I agreed.”

  Em made a frustrated noise. “But don’t you see, Tal? It’s classic control-freak behaviour. He tells you something that makes you believe he’s not a cheating rat, but conveniently, you can’t tell anyone else with a bit more distance who might be able to pick holes in the story.”

  “He was telling the truth,” Tally said with dogged determination.

  “I hope he was. For your sake.” Em pressed her lips together in disapproval, and then her whole face softened. “I don’t mean to be hard on you, babes, but I love you to death. Living through your pain was almost as bad for me as it was for you, you know.”

  Tally stood up and nestled beside Em on the sofa and leaned her head on her friend’s shoulder. “I know, and if there ever comes a time when I can tell you, I will. Promise. But until then, you’re going to have to trust my judgement.”

  “For you, I’ll try.” Em rocked her shoulder, making Tally lift her head. “When are you moving to Ireland?”

  “I’m no
t,” Tally said, secretly pleased when a flash of surprise crossed Em’s face. “I told him he’d hurt me too much to simply pick up where we left off. We’re going to take it slow and see what happens.”

  Em chuckled. “Bet he loved that.”

  Tally grinned. “Got him eating out of the palm of my hand.”

  “I believe you. Do you want to move back in here for a bit?”

  Relief hit her hard. She hadn’t planned out what she’d do if Em didn’t want her to move back in.

  “You haven’t sorted another place yet?”

  “Nah,” Em said. “Without you flat-hunting with me, it all seemed a bit of a faff. Mum’s been helping out with the rent.”

  “Then I’d love to move back in.”

  As the earlier awkwardness melted away, Tally picked up her plate of stew and ate in silence, well aware Em letting her off the hook might only be a temporary reprieve. And God only knew what Em would say to Cash the next time she saw him.

  “I’m stuffed,” Em said, dropping her plate on the coffee table. She rubbed her belly. “Boy, I’ve missed your cooking. It’s the real reason I’m letting you move back in.”

  Tally laughed. “It’s a good job I can rustle something out of nothing. There was hardly any food in the fridge. And you accuse me of not taking care of myself.”

  “I can’t be arsed cooking for one. I’ve been buying M&S microwave meals. Is that sad or what?”

  “I’ll do a shop tomorrow.”

  “Are you going back to the paper?”

  Tally shook her head. “I’ve decided to stick with the original plan to freelance. It’s a bit risky, but I’ve got some savings, and Pete will help out, I’m sure.”

  “But you are going to talk to him. About Cash.”

  “Yeah.” Tally groaned and looked skyward as dread spread through her gut. “Telling you was bad enough. He’s going to do his nut.”

  “Probably,” Em said. “But he loves you. He’ll huff and puff. Then, like me, he’ll try to trust that you know what you’re doing. And if it doesn’t work out…” She shrugged. “We’ll always be here to pick up the pieces.”

  Tally winced. It had to work out because a second breakup would tear her apart.

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  Redness spread across Pete’s face as he paced around his office like a caged tiger. Tally began to worry about his blood pressure. She’d seen Pete angry like this before, and bitter experience had taught her it was better to let him get it all out rather than interrupt him midflow. His anger would dissipate more quickly that way.

  When she didn’t reply, he slammed his hands on the desk. She jumped. If she had eyes in the back of her head, she’d have probably seen the rest of the floor jump as well. Perhaps her decision to tell him at the paper hadn’t been the most inspired idea. She’d banked on Pete having to keep a modicum of professionalism and hoped to turn her news into a quiet, sensible discussion.

  Yep. Her strategy had worked a treat.

  “Pete,” she said in what she hoped was a mild, conciliatory tone. “Calm down, and let me explain.”

  “Calm down?” He glared at her and clenched his jaw tight. Tally braced for round three—or was it four? But then his energy seemed to evaporate, and he wearily sank into his chair. “He came to see me.”

  Tally’s eyebrows shot up. “When?”

  “Day before yesterday. Boy, that fucker works quick. I want to kill him for the way he hurt you, yet here you are, ready to forgive and forget as if nothing happened.”

  “I don’t think I’ll forget in a hurry, but there was nothing to forgive. It was all a huge misunderstanding.”

  Pete expelled a terse sigh. “Yeah, such a misunderstanding that you refrain from enlightening me with the details.”

  “I-I can’t. Please trust me. I can’t tell you.”

  Pete gave her a rueful stare. “You used to tell me everything.”

  Talk about layering on the emotional blackmail. “I can’t tell you this. Look, I’m not an idiot. I know when someone is blatantly lying to me. All I can say is when I stopped long enough to let Cash explain those photographs, I believed him one hundred per cent.”

  “What stopped him telling you at the time?”

  “He had his reasons. He thought he was doing the right thing.”

  Pete snorted. “You’re a grown woman, and I can’t stop you doing anything you choose, but I think you’re making a huge mistake.”

  She let out a soft sigh. “Please, Pete. I need your support.”

  He leaned across his messy desk and patted her hand. “You’ll never have anything else, my darling girl. But you tell that fucker I’m watching.”

  Tally laughed. She couldn’t help pitying Cash the next time he came into contact with her wonderful uncle Pete.

  “Did I tell you I’m moving back in with Em?”

  Pete’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his receding hairline. “You’re not moving to Ireland?”

  “No. I’ve told Cash I want to take things slow, and he respects that.”

  “I should fucking think so.” Pete rose from his desk and wandered over to the coffee percolator in the corner of his office. He poured two cups before handing one to her. “When do you want to come back to work?”

  She took a sip of her coffee, peering at him over the rim of the mug. “I want to stick with the original plan. To freelance.”

  He paused then nodded. “I see. So when you are ready to move in with Cash, you’re all set.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Didn’t you hear what I said? We’re taking things slow, but I’ve had plenty of time to think these last few weeks. I quite like the idea of freelancing. I don’t know whether things will work out between Cash and me, but if they do, then it would be good to have an established freelance career. I hope you’re still willing to push a few things my way. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

  Pete gave her his first genuine smile since she’d walked into the office. “I’ll always be here to support you. Your dad would be proud of you, kid.”

  Tally held her breath, waiting for the familiar bolt of pain whenever anyone mentioned her dad, but instead, a surge of happiness rushed through her. She was striding out on her own towards an uncertain yet exciting future.

  She’d finally taken control—and it was liberating.

  7

  Cash glanced at his watch for the tenth time in the last hour. Apart from one brief text from Natalia the night before, he’d heard nothing. Patience wasn’t something he had in plentiful supply. Waiting to find out if Emmalee and Pete had convinced Natalia to kick him to the kerb was driving him crazy. He was well aware they had the power to talk her round, and the fact that he’d asked Natalia to keep the truth about Gracie private wasn’t going to help his cause.

  He jumped at a knock at the door then remembered he’d ordered room service even though he wasn’t all that hungry. He opened the door and ushered the waiter in, instructing him to leave the tray on the dining room table. The food turned his stomach, but the glass of wine did the opposite. He began to pace. Unable to wait another second, he sent Natalia a text:

  What’s happening? You okay?

  He glared at the screen as if willpower alone would make a comforting text appear before him. After five minutes and still no reply, he threw the phone on the couch. Goddammit! He had a bad feeling about this.

  Cash drifted over to the window and peered through the blinds. Beneath him, busy Londoners sped, going about their business, each one oblivious to his mental torture. He knew Pete and Emmalee would win. He should have refused to let her go it alone. If he’d been there, he would have been able to control the situation.

  His phone rang, and he lunged for it, speaking breathlessly into the speaker. “Natalia?”

  “Jesus, bud. You lost her again already?” Rupe said in his usual sarcastic tone.

  Cash groaned. “Not exactly.”

  “So what has happened? We only spoke yesterday.”


  “She wanted to tell Pete and Emmalee on her own.”

  “And you let her?”

  Rupe’s incredulity spoke volumes, and not for the first time, Cash wished he’d tried to be more persuasive. “You know how stubborn she can be. When she makes her mind up, that’s it.”

  “And you think they’ve changed it for her?”

  Cash scuffed a hand over the top of his head. “I don’t know what to fucking think. She texted me last night after she’d spoken to Emmalee and said everything was fine. Pete was on today’s agenda, and I haven’t heard a thing since.”

  “Are you at the house?”

  “No. The Dorchester.”

  “Then check out, and get your arse over there. I’m coming home.”

  “I told Natalia I was staying at the hotel. I don’t want to leave until I’ve spoken with her. I’ll bring her over tomorrow.”

  “Okay. I’ll call you when I land. And try to chill the fuck out.”

  Without anything changing, he felt a whole lot better. Rupe had a knack for grounding him. He was the brother Cash had longed for as a child, and Cash adored him, even if Rupe could be an annoying bastard at times.

  He tossed his phone on the coffee table as a text notification pinged. His heart jolted at the sender. He swiped at the screen and read her message:

  Be there shortly.

  Relief surged through him. He sank into the nearest chair. Thank fuck for that. Even if Pete had put doubts in her mind, she was still coming over, which meant Cash stood a chance of pleading his case and trying to reverse any damage done.

  He called down to room service and ordered a bottle of wine. The wine arrived at the same time as Natalia. He kissed her cheek as she entered and then signed for the wine.

  “Started without me?” She pointed her chin at his empty glass.

  He grimaced. “Needed something to take the edge off.” He poured her a glass of wine and topped up his own. “Pete didn’t lock you in the tower, then?”

  “Not quite.”

  Her lips twitched in an almost smile, and he put his arms around her, holding her close to his body. When she made a soft, contented sound, his fears evaporated.