Not that I had a clue how to do it. I still don’t have a bloody clue.
We need to get out of here and find somewhere private, but I’ve the gut-wrenching fear that if I don’t tell her right now how I feel about her, things will be screwed up for good.
Where the hell do I start?
Grovel, you fucking wanker.
The silver-tongued Lucas Carter, who can always shoot his mouth off when it doesn’t matter, can’t find the words to tell his girl how much she means to him.
I drag in a fractured breath. Pretend it’s just Violet and me here.
“What I said the other night about”—I hesitate, not wanting the press to know just how much of a clueless bastard I am—“the work situation. Violet, I know it sounded bad. I’m sorry I assumed you’d leave your family and everything behind just because I wanted you to come with me.”
She bites her lip, but even when the journalists crowd closer, her gorgeous green eyes don’t flicker from mine. “It was just so unexpected. I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve.”
“Nah. This is on me.” It hurts, deep in my chest, that she’s trying to make me feel better about the way I behaved. “My ego took a hit it was never expecting.”
“Your ego isn’t that big.”
I should’ve got us out of here. I don’t want my confession immortalized on TV, but the alternative—that Violet might walk away—isn’t an option. The words rip from me. “The thing is—it wasn’t my ego.”
“Wasn’t it?” Her whisper is so soft, I’ve taken a step toward her before I know it.
“It was only afterward it hit me that I never asked you. Did I? I just took it for granted. I’m such an arrogant arsehole.”
“No, you’re not.”
That’s a good sign, right? I push my luck and take her hand. She doesn’t pull away. “I don’t want to lose you. Are we still good?”
Her smile is everything. “Yes.”
Relief floods through me, and I’m weirdly lightheaded, as though I’ve just taken a helium hit. “We’ll make this work, Violet.”
“I know we will.”
There’s something else I need to ask her, but not here. It’s too public. And now she’s given me a second chance, we can escape. I release her hand and wrap my arm around her shoulders. The press makes the most of the moment as I lead Violet out of the room.
“Sorry about that.” I glance along the corridor, which is empty, but it won’t be that way for long. “Look, Violet—”
Before I can push out the words, she squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry I called you stupid. I didn’t mean it.”
I give a jagged sigh. “It’s okay. I deserved it.” And so much more.
She doesn’t look convinced. “I was just upset, that’s all.”
“I know.” I didn’t know then. Not that it’s any excuse. “I didn’t realize. About your mum.” Just spit the fucking words out, Carter. “How sick is she?”
I break into a sweat. Christ, I hope it’s nothing awful.
Terminal.
Stop it.
I shove back memories of my own mum.
“It’s pretty bad.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, and her lip trembles. I grip her hand tighter, to let her know I’m here, but my brain’s frozen and I don’t know what to say.
“Is…” I clear my throat. “Is she going to be all right?”
Stupid question. I can’t even backtrack, as there’s a loud rushing noise filling my head, destroying any chance of coming up with a half decent platitude. Who wants a fucking banal platitude, anyway?
“Yes.” Her voice is firmer than before, and she nods, as though that emphasis helps. “She’s going in for surgery on Tuesday, and everyone’s very positive.”
Shit. Tuesday. And all I could bang on about when we were on the cruise was us flying to Madrid.
The conference room doors open, and everyone swarms out. Fuck. There’s still so much I want—need—to say to Violet, but not here. Not now.
She goes onto her toes and brushes a sweet kiss across my lips. “I have to go,” she whispers.
I inhale a long breath. Things are sorted, we’re back together.
Something doesn’t feel right, though. Like there’s a missing piece, just out of reach, something clawing at the back of my mind.
“I’ll call you.” My voice is gruff, and she sniffs and nods.
It physically hurts as she walks away from me. And when she disappears around the corner, it’s like she’s taken a piece of me with her.
…
Violet
It’s midafternoon Tuesday when I squeeze Mum’s fingers and drop a soft kiss on her cheek. She came round from surgery a couple of hours ago, and although she keeps drifting in and out of consciousness, it’s amazing how great she is when she’s lucid.
“I won’t be long,” I tell her and Dad. I’m going to pick Sam up from his friend’s house and bring him back here to see Mum.
As I walk toward the reception area, my mind slips to Lucas. He’ll be almost in Spain by now, and my heart gives a little tug. I’m so happy we made up before he left. Every time I think about what he said at the press conference, I go all warm and gooey inside. He truly is the guy behind his mask. I wasn’t wrong.
Lucas stands up as I enter the reception, and I stop dead, my heart slamming against my ribs in shocked disbelief.
“Hey, Violet.” His sexy voice sends shivers along my arms, even though I’m still incapable of speech. “How’s your mum?”
“But…” I reach out and poke his chest, just to make sure I’m not seeing things due to stress. “How are you here?”
He gives an awkward shrug, as though he’s embarrassed. “I couldn’t leave you. Not when your mum’s in hospital.”
I haven’t cried once today, but his words very nearly push me over the edge. I clear my throat and don’t know what to say.
“Come and sit down for a minute.” He leads me to a couple of chairs by the window, where there’s a beautiful bouquet in a gift vase sitting on the floor. Did he buy my mum flowers?
Once again, I sniffle back tears.
We sit, and he angles his body toward me, shielding me from anyone else who might come into the area, and takes my hand. “Is your mum okay, Violet?”
I take a great lungful of air to try and clear my blocked throat. “Yes. The surgery was a huge success. She’s doing really well.”
“That’s great.”
I nod and lick my dry lips. “But you’re supposed to be touching down in Madrid right about now.”
“I know. But I don’t have to be there for another week. I canceled the flight.”
“But you hired a private jet.” I feel terrible that he’s wasted so much money. And he did it so he’d be here for me. I give him a watery smile. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
My heart just about overflows. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
“Me, too. Look, the thing is, there’s something I have to say.”
“What’s wrong?” I cradle his jaw. Whatever the problem is, we’ll fix it. Together.
“I know you’re not ready yet. I get it, but I need to ask. Just so you know.” He sucks in a ragged breath, and I’m bewitched that this gorgeous, confident man, who has half the football-loving world worshipping at his feet, is struggling to tell me something of earth-shattering importance.
“Ask me.”
He gives a tortured smile. “When you’re ready, will you think about moving to Madrid with me? I mean for you and me to live together. In the same apartment. Together,” he repeats, sounding slightly desperate, in case I don’t get it yet.
His face is blurry through my tears, but I don’t try and hold them back anymore.
“Yes.”
“Yes?” His grin lights up the room. “That’s fantastic. You didn’t make me get on my knees and grovel.”
“I don’t know. I think what you did yesterday on camera cou
nts as a bit of a grovel. It was very elegant.”
“There’s no pressure. If you need to finish your degree first, I’ll always be there for you.”
Even in a hospital reception room, this moment is perfection. “It’s an online degree. I can do it anywhere. And I’m sure I’ll find a casual job somewhere. If not, I’ll take on more hours of my virtual assistant job.”
“Sounds good.”
I take a deep breath. Mum’s words echo in my head. It’s time you spread your wings. And the time is now. “As soon as Mum’s given the all clear, I’ll move in with you.”
It’s like a huge weight lifts from my heart, and when he grins at me, I know everything’s going to work out.
“For real?” It’s like he needs me to confirm it before he’ll truly believe it.
I kiss him. God, I’ve missed him so much. “For real.”
“I love you, Violet.” His words are so low, I think I imagine them. I pull back, heart racing, and drown in the perfect blue of his eyes.
“Do you?” Seriously, Violet…
“I do.” There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips, which slays me. “You’ll never let my ego get away with anything.”
“I love your ego. I love you.”
We kiss again, a totally inappropriate kiss for where we are, but no one else is in the room. When we pull back, he tucks my hair behind my ear and then cradles my face.
“I’ve never been a real player. Not when it matters.”
Whatever’s left of my heart melts. “I know. You’ve always been so much more than your rep. It didn’t take me long to find that out for myself.”
“You’re such a sweet talker.”
“I had a great teacher.”
His smile is the one he saves especially for me. “So did I.”
Epilogue
Violet
Six weeks later
The flight to Madrid is uneventful, unless you count the butterflies multiplying in my stomach. New chapter of my life, here I come.
I catch sight of Lucas as soon as I walk into Arrivals, and it’s got nothing to do with his collar-length hair, the fact he’s wearing a T-shirt that shows off his spectacular muscles, or the interested stir he’s causing among other travelers, who make no secret of snapping pics with their phones.
It’s because he’s the only one I see.
My heart.
He strides toward me, and before I can catch my breath, I’m in a bear hug as he swings me around, heedless of our audience. “God, I’ve missed you,” he growls in my ear, and I laugh, breathless.
“We saw each other a couple of weeks ago.” He’s been over to England twice in the last six weeks, although they were only brief stopovers, as his new club is keeping him busy. Since his penthouse is now rented, he stayed with his dad, which I think is adorable.
“Yeah. What’s your point?” He sets me back on my feet and grasps my hand as if I might vanish if he isn’t touching me.
Not that I’m complaining. Every time he left England, I missed him more than before. It was more proof, as if I needed any, that we belong together.
“I can’t believe I’m really here.” It’s been a whirlwind over the last six weeks. Mum’s improved even more than her specialist anticipated, and she says she feels better than she has for years. And I’ve taken a crash course in Spanish. I suck, but at least I’m no longer clueless in the language.
“Believe it.” There’s a possessive note in his voice that’s so arousing I snuggle against him, desperate to be home alone with him.
In our home. Sure, it’s a rented apartment that Bec found for him, but in a year or two, we plan on buying our own villa. By then, I’ll have my degree, and I’m going freelance.
I warned him my luggage was going to be epic and the look on his face as he surveys the small mountain I brought with me is priceless. It cost me a fortune in excess baggage fees, but there are some things—okay, a lot of things—that a girl just can’t do without.
“There are shops here,” he grumbles as he loads my stuff into the boot of his new car. It’s not a flash sports car, thankfully, otherwise we’d be in trouble with the lack of space.
He holds open the passenger side door, and I slide inside. “Wow, how weird is it driving on the wrong side of the road?” It’ll take a bit of getting used to, that’s for sure.
“Nah, it’s fine.” He gets in beside me and slings me a grin. I smile back, until new ink on his until-now-untouched right bicep snags my attention.
I hitch in a sharp breath and lean closer. My eyes aren’t playing tricks. He’s got new tattoos since the last time we were together, on his arm that he once told me he was saving for something special.
Someone special.
“Oh.” It’s a horribly inadequate response to what his ink is telling me, and with the tip of my finger, I gently trace his love letter to me.
The tattoos are breathtaking in their depth and detail, intricately interwoven forget-me-nots for true love and blue violets for devotion.
He covers my hand with his. “Guess I know who I was saving this arm for now, huh?”
I press a kiss on his ink. He could’ve had this tattooed anywhere on his body, and it would’ve meant everything to me. But he chose his arm, which is always on show, where everyone will always see it.
I lose myself in the beautiful blue of his eyes. “You’re a big romantic at heart, you know that, don’t you?”
He rests his forehead against mine. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a rep to maintain, remember?”
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Acknowledgments
It seemed like a great idea when I came up with a hero who was a professional football player. Except I know nothing about this sport! Luckily for me, my long-suffering CP, Amanda Ashby, is an absolute authority on the subject. I’ve lost count of the times I emailed her late at night with frantic queries or asked her to re-read various scenes to check the authenticity. For putting up with my drama she deserves lifetime membership of the VIP lounge at Anfield!
To Sara, for all the times you pointed out my illogical flights of fancy and for answering all my career related questions – thank you!
I couldn’t do any of this without Mark and our family, thank you for always being there – and remembering who I am whenever I emerge from the cave! Love you guys.
To Candy Havens, the stars aligned when you became my editor! Thank you for always believing in me, for your awesome insights and always making me dig deeper.
About the Author
Christina Phillips is an ex-pat Brit who now lives in sunny Western Australia with her high school sweetheart and their family. She enjoys writing paranormal, historical, and contemporary romance where the stories sizzle and the heroine brings her hero to his knees. Christina is addicted to good coffee, expensive chocolate, and bad boy heroes. She is also owned by three gorgeous cats who are convinced the universe revolves around their needs. They are not wrong.
If you would like to know when her next book is available, sign up for her new release mailing list at her website—http://christinaphillips.com
Discover the British Bad Boys series…
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