“How was practice, sir?” Frank asked as I slumped down in the back seat of the car.
I groaned.
“That good?” Frank teased. “Did you want me to take you back to the house or to Miss Johnson’s place?”
I hadn’t thought about where it was I wanted to go. All I knew was I didn’t want to be at the clubhouse anymore. I didn’t want to be anywhere where media might be present. “You know what? I’m getting tired of hearing about Isla’s apartment. I mean, why is she still living in it?”
Frank nodded.
“Has she said anything to you about why she won’t move into the house?” I asked.
Pulling the car over, he asked, “Can I be frank with you – no pun intended?”
“You’re always Frank with me, aren’t you? Yeah, go ahead. What’s on your mind?”
Frank gave me that look he reserved for serious conversations between us. “Have you ever sat down to think about why Miss Johnson might not want to uproot her life and move into your house?”
“I think about it all the time. What’s your point?” I asked.
“My point is, if you were her, would you want to take a chance on a man like you? Would you want to dive into a world with a man who loses his cool as often that you do or live with a man who does everything within his power to make a spectacle of himself? Why would she want to bring a child into your world?” Frank didn’t pull any punches.
“What are you saying? You think I’m a bad guy? Why do you work for me? Who in their right mind wants to work for such an asshole? Maybe there’s something wrong with you, not me,” I said, allowing my defensive side to take over the logical part of my brain.
Frank was the one person in my life, aside from Isla, I’d let talk to me like that. He had always been a loyal employee and a trusted confidant. That’s why I didn’t let what he was saying to me make me angry. Any other person, I knew, I would have attacked them -- if not physically, definitely verbally.
“Mr. Alexander, all I’m trying to say is, you don’t make it easy for someone to want to give up their sense of normalcy for. You live in this world that caters to your every need. She comes from a world where nothing is handed to her,” Frank explained.
Now that stung. Before I was who I am today, no one gave me a damn thing. Not a thing. And anyone who said differently could kiss my ass.
“Nobody handed me anything. I did this. I made the effort. I put in the work. I earned every penny. That’s me out there, day in and day out, not someone else, not a stand-in, but me!” Hot tears burned my eyes. Where was all this emotion coming from? When did I become a cry baby?
Frank gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his eyes boring into mine. I didn’t back down. I wanted to hear what he had to say. I needed to hear what he had to say.
“You have to let her in. You have to forget all about -- excuse my language but -- forget all the bullshit. Forget all the stuff people tell you because they think it’s what you want to hear. Forget the money, the cars, the fancy house, even the staff. None of that is relevant. None of that matters. What matters or who matters is the man behind all of it. Who is he? Do you even remember who he is? Do you remember what it felt like to want something so bad, the only thing you could focus on was what you’re going to do to get it? How much work are you willing to put in to get Miss Johnson? To have her as not just some woman you bed when you need her, but to have her -- an intelligent, beautiful, grown woman -- in your life, by your side?” Frank’s eyes had welled with tears. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d seen him be so invested in my choices.
We sat in silence, taking the moment in full. It didn’t take me long to figure out the fatherly love I’d craved my entire life was right here in Frank. Granted, he was old enough to be my father and he never said as much, but this relationship felt as close to a father/son relationship as I’d ever seen.
Thinking back to the skirmish outside the charity event, I started to laugh. “Why did you jump in on that fight?”
Frank’s shoulders relaxed as he recalled. “You needed someone in your corner, sir.”
There was the word again. “Hey, why do you call me sir? What’s it about?”
“To remind you, you’re more than a football player; you’re a man.”
Damn, well, what was I supposed to say? No one I trusted had really said something like that to me. Most of the time, I was the bad boy football player or the womanizing quarterback, or for many, many women, I was the best sex they ever had. I was the one who taught them what the word orgasm meant.
“I think I’d like to go home, Frank. Let’s go on home,” I said.
“Home? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I have some work to do if I plan to convince Isla to move in with me.”
We drove the rest of the way in silence. I had a lot to think about. I would get nowhere fast if I didn’t improve my game and put some solid work in place. Frank was right, what incentive did Isla have for moving in with me? Would I want to move in with a guy like me? Would I want my daughter to move in with someone like me? Hell no, I wouldn’t!
I was feeling better by the time we arrived at my house. I wasn’t even bothered by the fact that there was media outside my gates. It was another day in my life. They weren’t going to ruin what I had planned for Isla. No matter what they said, I was not going to get into an altercation or a shouting match with any of them. That’s what I told myself before I stepped out of the car.
“Watch out!”
Those were the last words I heard before the vehicle crashed through the entry gates and ran right into me, hitting me squarely in the right leg, sending me flying over the car and crash landing on the pavement behind the car.
I’d never felt that kind of pain before in my life. Searing pain shot through every limb. Blood gushed out from my leg and my stomach. I couldn’t move without feeling intense pain.
The flashing lights from the cameras blinded me, but the gush of panicked voices told me what I didn’t know, what I couldn’t see for myself.
“Call an ambulance!” I heard someone say.
“What the hell did you do? What is wrong with you?” Frank screamed at someone.
“Get out of here! Give him some room! Move, people!” I recognized my security guy’s voice. “Beck, you’re going to be alright. The ambulance is on the way. You’re going to be okay.” The panic in his voice and the extreme pain I was feeling told me differently. My thoughts floated to all I stood to lose: Isla and the baby. My career and the money never once entered my mind. All I could think about was that I needed to live for Isla and our baby. I wanted to meet our baby and see him or her grow up. I wanted to be a father. I wanted to make Isla my wife.
“Call Isla,” I managed to whisper. “Call Isla.”
Frank knelt down next to me, his face close to mine. “I’ll call her. Don’t worry; I’ll let her know. Right now, let’s focus on you. Don’t move. Okay? Try not to move. An ambulance is on the way. You’re going to be okay.”
Why did everyone keep saying I was going to be okay?
I tried to lift myself up to see what was going on, but I didn’t have the strength. My head ached. Blood dripped down the back of my head, soaking the back of my shirt.
“Stay still, Beck. You need to stay still,” Frank said.
“Who did this?” I asked. “Who was driving?”
“Don’t worry about that now. Relax. They should be here soon,” Frank said, his voice shaking.
I closed my eyes, willing the pain to go away.
“I’m sorry. Man, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened,” a man said.
I didn’t recognize the voice at first. The pain was too intense for me to focus on his words, but when I heard Frank speak to the source of the voice, I knew immediately why the last several weeks of my life had gone so wrong.
“Sit his ass down!” Frank screamed at someone. I assumed he was speaking to one of my security team members. “Get him away from Beck!”
I opened my eyes to confirm, but again the flashing lights from the cameras blinded me. I couldn’t see his face, but I was sure. I knew who the voice belonged to. I knew who was trying to ruin my life. The question was, why? What had I done to him? How did I become his enemy?
Chapter Eighteen – Isla
Heopened his eyes. My heart ached for him, but luckily, his injuries weren’t career ending and he was still here with me. I don’t know what I would have done if he’d been killed.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Hey, handsome,” I said, stroking his cheek. “You’re awake.”
I watched as he took in the room and oriented himself with where he was. As the information sunk in, I thought I noticed a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I feel like hell,” he grumbled.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, you still look as sexy as ever,” I said, squeezing his hand. It was the only physical contact we’d be able to have for the next few weeks as he healed from his injuries.
“What happened? I thought I saw Jared there. Was he there?” Beck asked.
My heart sank. I hoped some time would pass before I’d have to tell him the awful truth about what happened to him and why. I took a moment to think about how to present the news to him. The last thing I wanted to do was upset him. He had already been given enough to worry about. According to the doctors, he’d need several weeks or more to convalesce and several weeks of therapy.
“Isla,” Beck started, squeezing my hand a little harder. “Tell me what happened. I want to know.”
I swallowed hard. I hated to have to break his heart. I didn’t even really know Jared and it broke my heart to think about what he’d been up to. I couldn’t believe a human being could be driven to such madness. Jealousy was an evil witch.
“Jared’s in jail,” I said, hoping that would answer all the questions he had.
Beck sighed. “He did this? Are you sure?”
I nodded.
“Why? Why would he do this?”
I shrugged, not because I didn’t want to tell him but because I had no answers for him. All the police could tell me was what they could prove. Jared and Hannah were a sadistic couple, bent on destroying the star quarterback’s career. They recruited and hired the DA’s daughter and one of her friends to set Beck up and smear his name. When that didn’t work, Jared hired prostitutes to try another route that ended in the bar fight. The accident was just that -- an accident. Jared was drunk and angry. He’d tried to dodge the media, misjudged the path, hitting the accelerator instead of the brake and slammed into Beck.
“He was like my brother,” Beck slammed his fist on the bed. “Why would he do this? What did I do to him? And, Hannah? Why? I never did anything to her.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I really don’t know what they were thinking. Jared’s sick. Your assistant is as sick as he is. They did this. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t deserve any of this. Let the courts take care of them. Right now, you need to focus on getting stronger. We have a whole life in front of us. I need you. The baby is going to need you,” I said.
He scrubbed the tears from his face. “Our baby. Come here.”
I wanted to. I wanted to feel his arms around me, but that wouldn’t have been safe. He needed time to recover. I was afraid, I’d hurt him.
“Kiss me,” Beck begged.
I kissed him everywhere I could kiss him without causing pain. “I’ll kiss you every day and night for the rest of our lives, I promise,” I said, tears streaming down my face.
“Isla, move in with me. I need you. I need you with me. Move into the house. We don’t even have to share a room if you don’t want to. I can wait. I’ll give you your space, but please, please, move in with me,” Beck pleaded.
How could I resist that? I didn’t know why I’d not moved in with him already. I didn’t know what I was afraid of. I loved this man. He was my child’s father. He was my everything.
“It’s too late. I already did,” I whispered in his ear.
“You did? When?” Beck asked, his eyes lighting up.
“Yesterday. Frank helped me,” I said, leaning my head on his. “And, by the way, we’re sharing a room, so nice try, but no such luck.”
He kissed the top of my head. “I love you, Isla Johnson.”
“I love you more.”
Beck motioned for me to close the door, the corners of his mouth lifting in that seductive way it always did when he wanted to mess around.
“You’re funny. You know we can’t. You’re injured, remember?” I reminded him as I walked over and shut the door anyway. “The doctor gave us strict orders to not let you do anything strenuous.”
“Since when have I ever listened to orders?”
Yep, my Beck was still there. The naughty boy hadn’t disappeared. As often as I tried to convince myself I didn’t like that side of him, the truth of the matter was, I found it to be one of the sexiest things about him. I mean, aside from his dark hair, beautiful gray eyes, and sinfully, sexy, pouty lips -- Beck was an alpha male, if I ever saw one. He was dangerous -- the kind of man your mama warned you about, but you couldn’t resist no matter how hard you tried.
“Yeah, I know. That’s how you got into this mess. If you would have listened to me all along, I’d still be employed, you’d be in one piece, and everything would be wonderful,” I said, joking with him.
“Come here,” Beck beckoned me to him. “I want to hold you.”
He had no idea how badly I wanted to be held. I don’t know if it was his accident, pregnancy hormones or the fact, I loved him more than words could say, I wanted to be in his arms every moment of every single day. I didn’t care what others thought or said. None of that mattered. Even some of the apprehension I had about the fact I was black and he was white didn’t bother me any longer. He was my man. My one and only. The reason my heart felt so full. He was the father of my unborn child. Nothing and no one was going to ever be able to take that away from me.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, taking his hand in mine. “I miss you,” I said, emotion welling in my throat.
“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” Beck moved his hand to my leg.
I shifted so his hand could rest on top of my leg. “I can’t wait for us to get home and start getting things together for the baby,” I started, assessing Beck’s reaction. When I was sure he wouldn’t shut this conversation down, I continued, “I was thinking about names.”
Beck’s hand squeezed my thigh. “Baby names? Really? But, we don’t know what the baby is? I mean, I don’t know; do you?” His eyes widened with excitement.
“Not yet, but I think I want to find out. That will give us time to pick the perfect name and buy things for him or her.”
The room went silent, except for the sound of the machines the doctors had Beck hooked up to. I waited for him to speak first. I didn’t want to rush him.
“Get on top of me,” Beck said.
“Do what?”
“Ride me. I need to feel you. Get on top of me,” Beck said as he attempted to lift the blankets off the lower half of his body.
I stood up. “I can’t. I’ll hurt you if I do that,” I said.
“You’ll hurt me more if you don’t take care of this,” he said, nodding to his erect penis under the blankets.
I licked my lips, turned on by the sight of it. I missed him more than I’d originally let on. I missed him every single time I returned home to my small, sad apartment. I lived in a different world than he did, but somehow when we were alone together, it didn’t matter. We understood each other. I saw in him what he didn’t see in himself. That’s not to say, I agreed with everything he said or did, but I did get why he said or did it. It’s not that he didn’t know any better, he had his way. He knew how to sell himself. He didn’t need an agent or a public relations person. He could handle it on his own. His problem was, he was too damn smart for his own good. He was his own moneymaker. It’s like he wa
s born different. He was born a bonafide star and didn’t care what anyone thought. That is, until I came along. I was his kryptonite. That was a dangerous thing to be. I could ruin him. That was my biggest fear.
“What are you thinking about, beautiful?” Beck asked me.
“I’m thinking about us,” I answered.
He patted my behind. “Well, if that’s true, then why aren’t you sitting on top of me yet?” Beck asked, oblivious to what was worrying me.
“I can’t. Not yet. I don’t want to be the reason why you’re not healing.” I wasn’t lying.
“Isla, do you think I’m dumb?” Beck tried to push himself up in the bed. “I know when you start thinking too much. There will be plenty of time for that later. You need to focus on helping me heal. And by helping me heal, I mean lock those pretty lips around my--”
“How romantic,” I groaned.
He scrunched up his face. “Okay, sorry. I mean, can’t you help me out? Isn’t that part of your job?”
I guess, I could have argued. I could have said something about my relationship with him not being a job. It wasn’t my duty. He wasn’t my duty. He was a man. There was a difference. But, seeing him like this, attached to machines and wires, bandages everywhere, I couldn’t do that. I didn’t want to argue with him. This was one of those times my mother warned me about. One of those opportunities to choose my arguments wisely because you never knew when another more important opportunity presented itself. Considering my relationship was with Beck -- the Beck Alexander -- there was almost a guarantee plenty of other opportunities would present themselves. Besides, he’d found out his friends had betrayed him.
Taking a moment to tiptoe over to the door and check the hallway to ensure no one was on their way, a giddiness came over me. I was going to do this. It felt naughty, but so worth it.
“Now we’re talking,” Beck said, his eyes lighting up as I approached him. “Let me see all of you.”
I wished I could, but I kept my teasing to my exposed black lace bra. It was probably one of the last times I’d get to wear it before I’d have to transition to one of those hideous nursing bras. I’m pretty sure Beck wouldn’t like that style as much as he liked my expensive, lace numbers.
Bedding the Bad Boy (Bad Boys of Football Book 1) Page 14