Painting the Lines: A Hot Romantic Comedy (Ace of Hearts Book 1)

by Ashley R. King

  A weight had been lifted from her heart as she allowed his words to sink in, the meaning cementing itself deep within her mind as she stroked his cheek. She loved the feeling of her fingers quietly skating over his dark stubble. How often had she daydreamed of doing that?

  “I get it, Julian, I do, because I want this for you more than I’ve ever wanted anything,” she said softly.

  Julian’s eyes dilated, the black of his pupils eating up the color, leaving only a look of undiluted hunger and want.

  Prompted by that look and the recent good news, she blurted, “I like you way too damn much, Julian Smoke, and I can’t wait to see you win.” She smiled. “I also can’t wait for you to make love to me. But I’ll do my best to be patient.”

  With a groan, Julian brushed his lips over her knuckles once more. “With you saying things like that, looking like you do, it makes me want to say fuck the consequences. It makes me want to worship every single inch of you the way you deserve to be worshipped.”

  Her skin tingled at his words, at the look on his face. Even though her body was aflame with all that hot-as-hell imagery coupled with the phantom touch of his lips on hers, she knew what he said earlier was right. Although it went against everything she wanted, everything she felt, she said, “Then you better get to your side of the bed, Smoke.” She slid away from him and used her foot to nudge him.

  “Fine, I’m going.” He held up one hand in surrender, playfulness stretching across his handsome features as he scooted over, but his other hand still held hers between them in what felt like complete and utter reverence. “Good night, Amalie,” he said in that low, rumbly voice of his just before closing those beautiful eyes.

  Amalie sighed as she desperately tried to cool herself. She’d wait until he was asleep, and then she’d slip into the bathroom to get relief because as it was, she was a throbbing mess.

  As Julian’s scent enveloped her, she answered with a soft smile, “Good night.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Julian

  The next morning Julian’s alarm woke him hours before they had to catch their return flight. His first thought was of Amalie, but she was nowhere to be found. Her side of the bed was rumpled, and he figured she’d gone to find something to eat.

  When he told her last night that he liked her, he’d been lying…sort of. He more than liked her. He had the scary, sneaking suspicion his feelings were verging on something much bigger, but he didn’t exactly want to put it all out there the first time they kissed, even though they were well on their way to more than that before Paul barged in.

  Julian had been strung so tightly that he woke in the middle of the night, sweating, with Amalie’s ass pressed into his groin. With a hushed groan, he extracted her from that position and then disappeared into the bathroom to take a cold shower and finish what Amalie started. Had she gotten any relief? He’d heard her go to the bathroom in the night as well, and he clamped his teeth on his pillow when a gentle moan sifted under the door. He hoped she’d been doing what he imagined. That was half the reason he had to take care of himself.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the room phone.

  “Hello?” All kinds of uncertainty filled his voice because everyone he talked to used his cell number.

  “This is Marleen from the front desk. May I speak to Miss Warner?”

  “She’s out right now.”

  “When she returns will you have her bring an alternate method of payment to the front desk? This morning she dropped off her credit card to replace your method of payment and it’s showing up as declined. Or perhaps you could bring your card down? It was accidentally deleted in the process. I apologize for that.”

  Leave it to Amalie to be sneaky about paying. Julian shuffled for his own wallet on the nightstand. “Sure, it’s no problem. I’ll bring one right away.”

  He dressed and headed downstairs, making a mental note to ask Amalie about her credit card. They’d been splitting everything because she was hell-bent on helping, but that phone call had him worried.

  As soon as he stepped from the elevator on the first floor, he passed a sitting area near the entrance. Standing there saying goodbye was none other than Amalie and Andrew Warner, the latter dressed in a crisp beige suit with Ray-Bans tucked into the lapel, his salt-and-pepper hair parted and combed to the side.

  What the hell?

  Julian couldn’t make out Amalie’s expression since her back was to him, but she slipped out the door while Andrew hung back.

  Julian continued to the desk, hoping that maybe he hadn’t been spotted.

  “Julian,” Andrew called, causing Julian’s entire body to tense as he turned around.

  Andrew walked with an eerie grace as he met Julian halfway. He looked slightly aggravated. At least Julian thought Andrew was aggravated. It was nearly impossible to tell, since the man’s face never wrinkled, just like his clothes.

  “Is there a reason you’re here?” Julian asked without preamble.

  Andrew’s lips pursed in dry amusement. “I came to see my daughter. We had business to discuss.”

  Julian shifted from foot to foot as he crossed his arms in the universal “back off” gesture. “I can’t imagine what business you have to discuss, since we’re doing this thing without your help.”

  “Son—” Andrew started.

  Wrong.

  Julian stiffened immediately. “No one calls me that except for my dad and Paul, and seeing as my father is dead, I suggest you choose another rich-boy nickname. Preferably not one you’ve used before, like investment.”

  Andrew flinched, the movement nearly imperceptible. Julian gathered there wasn’t much in this world that could surprise the man, so he took it as a victory. “Fine, Julian. Before I leave, I should ask what you thought about your wild card?” Andrew adjusted the bright green silk tie around his neck.

  Dread trickled into Julian’s veins like poison. “How do you know about my wild card?”

  “Technically it’s my wild card, since I had everything to do with it,” Andrew challenged.

  Julian felt his nostrils flare, his jaw tightening as he pointed a finger directly in Andrew Warner’s face. “You’re a sick bastard, Andrew. You know that? That wild card?” He thumped his chest. “It’s mine. Not yours. Mine.”

  People in the lobby stopped and turned their heads, some lingering, others going about their business, but Julian didn’t give a shit. He couldn’t believe this. Despite the words coming out of his mouth, he knew that wild card didn’t belong to him. No, the whole fucking thing felt tainted now. This was something he’d wanted to do on his own, but Amalie’s father swooped in and somehow “saved the day.”

  Did Amalie know about this? Of course she didn’t. She knew how important it was for Julian to do this on his own. She wouldn’t do that to him.

  “Amalie’s going to be pissed when I tell her about this,” Julian added. “Or is that why you’re here? To gloat. Or maybe you’re trying to win back your daughter. You know, the one you left out in the cold like a fucking stranger.”

  The corner of Andrew Warner’s lips kicked up, an air of annoying confidence pouring off his tailored suit. “Who’s to say she doesn’t already know, that it was her idea? That she’s given up on this foolish dream of hers?”

  Julian clenched his fist so tightly that he could feel crescent moons being carved into his palm.

  Andrew cocked his head, his face arranged in an expression that was clearly meant to radiate superiority. “Is that a spark of doubt I see? Not so sure that Amalie didn’t have something to do with it? Talk to her or don’t, it doesn’t matter to me. Either way, I’m viewing this as an investment.” Oh, he was sure to put the emphasis on that word. “Besides, you’ll look good out there on that blue court wearing my hotel’s logo.”

  “I’m not wearing your damn anything,” Julian bit out, the words chopped short by his teeth.

  “You will unless you want me to call the USTA and pull my funding. Look
s like the Warner logo will be on your shirt, on the sides of the courts, maybe even on the cups the fans drink from. Worthwhile investment, if you ask me.”

  Julian seethed, everything around him turning red. It was Anthony Fox all over again, and there was no way he believed that Amalie brought Andrew into the fold. Andrew Warner was the most manipulative bastard he’d ever met, and he refused to accept anything that came out of that man’s mouth.

  “Fuck off,” Julian spat, and without another word he stormed out of the sitting area, his head throbbing.

  He needed a minute to breathe, but first he needed to settle the bill. With his shoulders hitched high, tension flickering down every muscle in his body, he made his way to the front desk.

  “Hi, may I help you?” a chirpy brunette asked.

  It took everything Julian had to keep his calm, but he managed to grit out, “Marleen called and said that our payment was declined. I came to settle up.”

  “Name?”

  “Julian Smoke and Amalie Warner.” God, saying those names together was something he loved, but he couldn’t suppress the angry thoughts swirling in his mind, Andrew’s shark-like grin at the forefront.

  “Oh, those charges have already been covered.”

  That call was less than ten minutes ago. Unless…

  “Could you tell me who covered them?” The air constricted in his lungs as he begged for it not to be who he thought.

  The clerk nodded. “Of course. It was Andrew Warner. He covered everything in full just a moment ago.”

  Julian’s feet were glued to the spot as he stared down at the marble pattern on the desk. Pieces were clicking into place: Amalie and her dad, the wild card, paying for the room. He didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to believe that asshole Andrew, but the truth rang inside him.

  She’d gone back to her father. There was no other explanation.

  “Sir? Are you all right?” The voice sounded like it was underwater, but Julian broke out of his rage-filled haze long enough to nod and stride away from the counter to the elevator bank where he waited. Why would Amalie do this? It was all too convenient to not be connected.

  He needed to find her, needed answers.

  Desperate for some type of distraction, he pulled his phone from his shorts and opened Twitter, shocked to see his name trending. Wait, how could that be? He clicked on his hashtagged name and saw the headline, the one that had everyone in an uproar: “Smoke Beats Garner for Wild Card.”

  Ethan Garner was a beloved tennis player, although he hadn’t been performing well lately, which explained his recent retirement announcement. Wild cards were often controversial, but hell, people were roasting the shit out of Julian. One person said he was trash, another called him a has-been, but the one that really stuck was the one that said, “Well, he better live up to it. It would suck if he lost in the first round.”

  He was burdened again by those very expectations he’d talked to Amalie about. Now they weren’t his, they were the fucking world’s.

  He hadn’t asked for this. He wanted to do this on his own because he’d always taken the easy road. This was his chance to prove himself, and it’d been snatched away. Rich assholes were always taking shit from him—the country club tennis pro, Anthony, Nadine, and now Andrew…and maybe Amalie. God, he hoped he didn’t have to add her to that list. It’d kill him.

  Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he tried to tamp down the building nausea and decided not to look at anything else until he talked to Amalie. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long. She returned to the room about twenty minutes later, bagels in hand, a stunning smile illuminating her face. She wore an olive dress that showed off her sexy legs, but he was not to be deterred.

  “Sorry I left without waking you. I got hungry and couldn’t wait.”

  “Hey, I need to talk to you about a few things.” Julian stood from the desk chair.

  Her expression was blank as she set the bagels down next to him. “Sure, what’s up?”

  His mind was spinning, but he tried to tackle one thing at a time. “Why didn’t you tell me you were having money trouble? That you’d maxed out your credit card?”

  Horror washed over her face as she took a step back. “How would you even know that?”

  “The front desk called and wanted one of us to bring a different card to pay for the room. Why didn’t you tell me you were having money issues?”

  Amalie squinted. “Because I’m handling it. I don’t need your help.”

  Her tone was defensive as hell. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? It told him everything he needed to know.

  He decided to play stupid for just another minute, curious as to what she’d say, what lies she might tell even though the thought made him want to hurl.

  “Well, let me know if you need help. I told you I don’t mind—”

  Amalie sliced a hand through the air. “Oh my God, I got it. I hear you.”

  He held his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. But I have to ask, how’s your dad?”

  Her body flinched, and her eyes snapped to meet his as a shadow passed over her face. “What?”

  Anger rolled around inside him like a storm. “Yeah, I saw him in the lobby, that smug son of a bitch. Looks like he paid for our room charge. Is that what you meant when you said you had it covered? Asking Andrew for help?”

  Amalie stared at him without blinking as her lips worked for a reply.

  Julian’s stomach clenched. It was true then.

  Biting off her response, he continued, “He told me he’s the reason I got the wild card. And that you knew about it.” Julian took a step forward, his body vibrating. “I told him there was no way you knew, that you wouldn’t betray me that way.”

  Her hands came together, wringing. “He…he told you about the wild card?”

  Everything stopped. His heart pounded feverishly, the thumping so loud it roared in his ears. What was she saying? It sounded as if…

  “So, you did have something to do with it? You mean to tell me that for once he wasn’t lying?” He was praying that this was a nightmare or some sort of joke.

  Amalie waved her hands in front of her body. “Wait, you don’t understand—” Her words stumbled over themselves.

  An intense heat slithered through his veins. Why would she do this? After all he’d shared with her? Betrayal was something he simply couldn’t forgive, not after Nadine, not after Anthony, not after what he’d done to his father.

  His teeth clenched so tightly it felt like his jaw was about to snap as he ran his hands through his hair, his feet pacing, staying far away from Amalie, the girl he thought he was falling in love with. “No, Amalie, I think I understand perfectly.”

  Her sharp intake of breath echoed through the room. But before she could say anything else, Julian said, “I’m so angry I can’t even look at you right now.”

  Without another word, he tore out of the room, slamming the door on any future he might’ve had with Amalie Warner.

  Julian sat next to Paul on the flight home, doing everything he could to avoid Amalie, who was a row over. He leaned closer to his coach, his words hushed, “Andrew Warner bought me the wild card. Did you know?”

  Paul nodded and Julian felt his earlier anger appear, threatening to snarl and bite. Before he could say anything, Paul held out a hand toward him. “I know it’s not how you wanted to get into the US Open, but it’s the best thing that could’ve happened.”

  Julian made a noise in the back of his throat. “I think I should refuse it, turn it down.”

  Paul’s head jerked back. “And you’d be the biggest fool to walk this earth, son. You don’t turn something like that down. It is what it is, and now we focus on not wasting this chance.”

  Julian opened his mouth to argue, seething at the idea of being indebted to Andrew Warner, knowing that man’s gaudy-ass logo would cover his tennis gear. Paul cut off any response with a shake of his head.

  “I don’t want to hear any arguments.
Case closed on that front. Now that you’ve got me in crisis mode with your lover’s spat, I’ve got a new practice partner to keep you occupied, to keep your head in the game.”

  That was the last thing Julian had on his mind. All he could think about was Amalie and how he already missed her even though she was on the same flight as him. There was an ache in his chest, like a piece of his heart was missing, despite how absurd it sounded.

  “You listening to me?” Paul asked with a nudge of Julian’s shoulder.

  “Yeah, yeah. New practice partner to keep my mind off of Amalie and this shitstorm. Who is it?”

  “Austin Johnson, a top-fifty player and an Atlanta boy just like yourself. I think y’all will get along well.”

  Julian nodded as he let his head rest back against the seat. He wanted to look around Paul and across the row, to get Amalie’s attention. Instead, he curled his hands into fists and closed his eyes. He’d finally given her everything, every piece of him that he had, and she’d thrown it all away. He knew that in the coming days he’d miss her even more. He’d miss her smile, her wit, the way she held her pen between her teeth during a nail-biter rally, the way she peppered him with questions so she could get her character, get him just right and real. He hoped she didn’t give up on her writing, because it would be a damn shame if she did. She’d put talk of all that on the back burner while they were in New York, and he wished she hadn’t.