“Oh, bollocks,” Kinga said.
Talk about understatement of the year.
27
Kinga was waiting in the hotel lobby when Tally and Cash arrived back from the police station.
“What happened?” she said, clambering to her feet.
“They cautioned him. He was lucky.”
Cash sucked on his knuckles, still bloodied and grazed despite Tally’s best attempts to patch him up. “How did Martinez get in?”
Kinga shrugged. “We weren’t vetting them, Cash.”
“Well, we should have been,” he said, glaring at Kinga.
“It’s not Kinga’s fault,” Tally said, hitting him with a hard stare. “Look, everyone in the business knows Martinez is a snake. All he did today was prove it.”
“Yeah, and sort out his retirement fund courtesy of yours truly.” Cash shook his head. “Still,” he added with a smirk, “it was worth it. Even if he gets his nose fixed on my money, I’ll always have the memory of it splattered halfway across his face.” He outright laughed then. “Fucker.”
Kinga did her best to act as if she disapproved, but her twitching lips gave her away. “Right, well, if it’s all right with you, I’m going to head off home. When are you flying to Rome?”
“Tomorrow,” Cash said. “Hey, have you heard how Anatoly got on?”
“He won. Straight sets.”
“Grand. I’ll give him a call later.”
“I bet he’ll be much more interested in hearing about your exploits than talking about his.” She kissed Tally on the cheek. “I should be in Rome by Sunday afternoon, but I’ll let you know if I get caught up.”
“Thanks for everything, Kinga,” Cash said, his tone the warmest yet since she had rejoined the team. “You’ve been amazing.”
“Seconded,” Tally said.
Kinga shrugged. “I told you. My job is anything you need it to be.”
Cash slung an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. Kinga blushed. Cash’s acceptance of her as a part of the team again had given her a new confidence, and as he walked Kinga to the hotel entrance, Tally noticed she was standing taller.
Once Kinga had left, they went up to their hotel suite. As soon as they were inside, Cash waved his phone at Tally and grimaced. “Better call Mother.”
“You’ll need this,” she said, passing him a tissue. When he frowned, she giggled. “For your bleeding ears.”
Cash laughed and disappeared into the bedroom. He reappeared about five minutes later and collapsed onto the sofa, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He blew out a heavy breath. “Did I say it was good to have a mother again?”
“Bollock you, did she?” Tally said.
“I had to remind her I wasn’t a child.”
“To her, it must seem like you still are.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Cash’s brow briefly creased. “I was holding my own until she used the D word.”
Tally tilted her head. “What’s the D word?”
“Disappointed.”
“Ah.” Tally laughed. “It’s a great tactic. Pete’s used it on me over the years, particularly when I was working on my degree and wasn’t knuckling down. Sure does the trick.”
Cash teased at his scruff with his fingertips. “Do you think I was wrong to hit him?”
“It wasn’t the smartest move.” She placed a hand on his arm. “I know you don’t care what the press say about you, and I get that. But it’s not only you anymore.”
He gave a long, low sigh. “I know.” He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “That’s the last time, I promise.”
“Is Rachael okay, though? Apart from having Rocky Marciano for a son.”
Cash grinned. “Yeah, she’s fine. Not even a sniff of the press. Isaac’s all over it if any do turn up.”
“I’m glad he’s there.”
“Me too. Guess I’ll be in the papers again tomorrow.”
“Yep. Steel yourself.”
Cash raised his eyebrows. “You don’t think Martinez is planning a cosy fireside article?”
Tally laughed. “I’m glad you’re seeing the funny side.”
“As long as he steers clear of saying anything about you or my mother. Because if he does, I’ll make it my life’s work to ruin the fucker.”
Tally’s eyes widened. “Is that why you went for him today? Because he made out I couldn’t write for shit?”
Cash shrugged. “Of course.”
“Oh, Cash.” She shook her head. “I thought it was because he pushed you on what happened with your dad.”
Cash’s eyes sparked with annoyance. “When he said what he did, I saw red. He can say whatever he likes about me. It’ll be old news soon. But I won’t have him dissing you.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. He might have gone about protecting her in the wrong way, but she couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through her limbs.
28
As Tally eased into her seat on Wimbledon’s centre court, nerves swarmed her stomach. Apart from when Cash had decided to pull out of Madrid back in May, he’d won four of the big European tournaments. And now, two months later, there they were at the Wimbledon final, and she couldn’t help thinking…
All good things.
Once the day was over, they would be taking a well-earned break. With Cash’s crazy tournament schedule and Pete putting more work her way, they’d barely had any time to themselves. She’d also decided to tell him about the photographs once they were on holiday. The timing felt right now that their lives had finally settled down, and she hoped the distance would help him look at the situation dispassionately without going off the deep end.
She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and dabbed at the sweat beneath her eyes. She dug a compact out of her bag. Great. Lovely black smudges. Waterproof mascara? What utter rubbish.
She squeezed a bit of water onto a tissue and carefully swept away the black marks. Who would have bet on England having a heat wave during Wimbledon fortnight?
“You missed a bit.” Kinga took the tissue from her and swept it under Tally’s right eye. “There, that’s better.”
“Thanks,” Tally said with a smile. She tucked the tissue in her jacket pocket and dropped her sunglasses back in place. Her leg jiggled as Em rested her hands on Tally’s shoulders.
“Chill out, Tal. You’re going to have a bloody heart attack at this rate.”
Tally glanced behind her and placed her hand over Em’s. “Thanks.”
Em frowned. “What for?”
“Being here.”
“Where else would I be, babes?”
Tally shrugged. “Nowhere, I guess.”
Em wrapped her arms around Tally’s shoulders and hugged tightly. “It’s going to be fine. I know you find it hard to watch, Tal, but the form he’s on? Jeez.”
Tally nodded as she turned to Rachael, whose doctor had given her the all-clear to attend today’s Wimbledon final.
“You doing okay?” she asked.
Rachael patted her arm. “I’m fine. I’m finally going to see my son play. Nothing could make me happier.”
“If you get too hot or feel faint or dizzy or anything, you have to promise to tell me.”
Rachael smiled serenely. “Stop worrying, Tally.”
“He’s going to win,” Kinga whispered in Tally’s ear. “Four sets.”
“Can you make that three?” Tally said.
Kinga laughed. “You’re always so nervous. He’s had a fabulous season, and today he’ll top that off by becoming Wimbledon champ for the seventh time. Mark my words.”
“Yeah, ’cause you know everything,” Em muttered under her breath.
Tally gave Em a hard look. Kinga appeared not to have heard. Em still held a grudge against Kinga even though Tally had forgiven her long ago.
Brad slipped into his seat behind Rachael. He leaned forward. “Ready, ladies?”
“Nope,” Tally said.
“I’m ready,” Rachael said in an excited v
oice. “I can’t wait.”
Tally twisted in her seat to face Brad. “How is he?”
Brad raised an eyebrow. “Déjà vu, Tally. He’s fine. You’re not. Same old, same old.”
She tried to smile, but her nerves were running out of control, her stomach churning with that awful sick feeling she got before every match. Not just finals. Every goddamn match.
“Breathe.” Brad passed her a bottle of ice-cold water. “And drink. Last thing I need is you passing out on me.”
Tally took a long pull, the cold water soothing her dry and scratchy throat as the buzz of the crowd increased. She glanced around centre court. Pretty much everyone was seated now, apart from the most important members of the royal box. As she had that thought, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge appeared. The duchess looked beautiful and immaculate as always. She watched as the duke said something to her. Tally couldn’t hear them, but she managed to lip-read the duchess’s response: “Yes, I’m okay.”
She smiled to herself as the crowd got to their feet and clapped. Her eyes flickered to the corner of the court. Cash, dressed head to toe in white as was Wimbledon custom, walked slowly behind Anatoly, his opponent for that day. Ahead of them, two men carried their bags—another Wimbledon tradition.
“Here we go,” she murmured as Kinga squeezed her hand and Em’s grip tightened on her shoulders. Tally glanced sideways at Rachael. Her face was flushed with excitement, and her eyes shone as she clapped. Tally couldn’t even begin to imagine how Rachael was feeling at that moment.
Cash set himself up and took out a racket, hitting it against his hand. He jumped up and down on the spot a few times, to the delight of the crowd, and sauntered onto court. Tally moved to sit on the edge of her seat and began nibbling on her nails, although after the number of games she had sat through during the European season, she didn’t have much left to chew.
Cash won the toss and, as always, elected to serve. The two men posed for the obligatory photographs before sharing a quick word and a smile. But once they’d taken their places at opposite ends of the court, their faces fell serious.
The first set was close, with each man giving little away. Matches between Cash and Anatoly were always tightly fought affairs, and that day was no different. The first set went to a tiebreak, which Anatoly won.
“Four sets—I told you,” Kinga whispered. “You know Cash. He uses being behind as a catalyst to up his game.”
Tally nodded, but fear lodged in her throat. She couldn’t shake the feeling Cash’s winning streak was coming to an end.
In the second set, he changed it up, seeking Anatoly’s weaknesses, and when he won six games to four, Tally jumped to her feet, clapping wildly, the tension that clawed at her shoulders subsiding. Maybe Kinga’s prediction would turn out to be right.
But she’d celebrated too soon. Anatoly took the third set, giving him a two-set-to-one lead.
“Four sets my arse,” Tally muttered, glancing sideways at Kinga. “Hope you didn’t bet too much on a three to one.”
Kinga flashed a quick grin. “Oh, ye of little faith.”
“Realist, you mean.”
Kinga didn’t reply. She gave a small shake of her head and refocused her attention on the match.
A tight fourth set led to yet another tiebreak. Tally’s stomach churned painfully, and her skin prickled with slow-onset pins and needles. She wiped clammy hands on her skirt. He had to win the tiebreak, or it was all over.
Tally focused on Cash. Apart from a slight tightening of the skin around his mouth, he did not reveal his feelings.
“Come on, come on,” she muttered, chewing the last nail so far down it began to bleed. Em brushed her hand up and down Tally’s arm, a soothing gesture she’d used for years when Tally got too stressed. Rachael’s grip on her hand grew tighter.
At five points apiece, Anatoly hit a perfect lob, which sailed over Cash’s head. Despite sprinting backwards, Cash was too close to the net to reach the ball. It landed about an inch inside the baseline for a winner and gave Anatoly championship point.
“God fucking damn it,” Brad muttered under his breath.
Tally rubbed the back of her neck, her muscles tense and painful. Cash prepared to serve to stay in the match. He hit a perfect serve, which should have been an ace, and against most other players it would have been. But somehow, Anatoly got the tip of his racket on it, and curving his wrist at an impossible angle, he hit the ball cross-court for an outright winner.
Anatoly dropped his racket and fell to his knees as sorrow swept through Tally’s chest.
Cash had lost.
29
When Cash walked into the lounge, he found Natalia and Mum standing with their heads together, chatting. Natalia jumped up the minute she saw him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she whispered, “I’m so proud of you.”
Cash leaned across the table to kiss his mother. “Sorry I couldn’t win for you, Mum,” he said with a shrug.
“Nonsense,” Rachael said. “Today might not have been your day, but the pride I felt watching you out there…” She raised a trembling hand to her face, her voice cracking as she brushed away a tear.
Cash swallowed past a lump in his throat. Nine months before, his life had been shit, and now look where he was. His mother was thriving and living life to the fullest, despite missing out on the past thirteen years, and he had his girl, who he was more in love with than he’d ever thought possible.
“I’m going to take off,” Cash said, waving at his mother when she began to stand. “No, Mum, stay. Enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Kinga, can you make sure Mum gets back to the house okay?”
“Of course I will,” Kinga said. “Let’s get you the guided tour.”
“If you’re sure,” Rachael said. “I must admit I’m dying to have a nose around.”
“Shall I book a table for dinner? Say, eight?” Kinga said.
“Oh yes, do,” Rachael said. “Dinner would be lovely.”
Even though it was the last thing Cash wanted, he kept his mouth shut. He could stomach one lousy dinner if it made his mother happy.
“Let me know where,” he said to Kinga. “We’ll meet you there.”
“Make sure you invite Em,” Natalia said. “She’s around here somewhere.”
“Probably chatting up some poor unsuspecting bloke,” Cash said, earning a hard stare from Natalia.
When they stepped outside, Isaac already had the car door open. Cameras flashed, and fans pushed all manner of memorabilia into Cash’s face. He stopped to sign a few autographs and posed for a few pictures before he finally climbed inside. Isaac closed the door behind them, the noise from outside instantly abating. Cash’s head hit the back of the chair as his lids fell shut.
“I’m knackered,” he said, blindly reaching for Natalia’s hand as the car moved off.
“It’s been a hard season. I’m not surprised.”
His eyes opened a crack, and he squinted at her. “The next month is going to be hard too.”
Natalia laughed at the obvious innuendo. “You haven’t even said where we’re going.”
“Correct.”
“But you’ve got it all planned out, haven’t you?”
“Yep.”
“And you have no intention of telling me.”
“Correct again.”
Natalia stuck out her bottom lip. “I hate surprises.”
Cash snorted. “Liar. You fucking love them.”
She grinned then. “You’re right. I do.”
He leaned his head on her shoulder, a contented sigh escaping his lips when Natalia stroked his hair.
“I wish we weren’t going to dinner tonight,” he said.
“Oh, yeah? What would we do instead?”
Cash lifted his head and wiggled his eyebrows. “Sweetness, really?”
Natalia glanced at her watch. “We’ve got a little over two hours. An hour for me to get ready. If you’re not too tired, that gives you an hour to impress me with your sexual p
rowess.”
Cash moved fast, pressing Natalia flat onto the back seat. “Then there’s no time to waste,” he said, cutting off her surprised giggle with his mouth.
A soft groan sounded low in her throat as Cash moved his lips over hers. He drove his tongue inside, rewarded when she thrust her hips upwards and rubbed against his crotch. Earlier exhaustion forgotten, he willed Isaac to drive faster. He didn’t want to fuck her in the back of the car. She deserved to be cosseted on a soft bed and wrapped in silk sheets. But if she carried on rubbing him like that, his instincts would take over.
“We’re here, sir.”
Isaac’s voice came through the intercom, and Cash tore his mouth from Natalia’s. Like a pair of lustful teenagers, the two of them dashed inside the house he’d rented for Wimbledon fortnight.
He kicked the front door closed, lifted her into his arms, and tore up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She laughed all the way, only stopping when he laid her down in the middle of the enormous bed, and then her face became serious as she watched him drag off his clothes.
As he began to straddle her, Natalia pressed her hand against his chest. “Let me. It’s my turn to look after you tonight.”
A bolt of desire exploded in Cash’s stomach. Although Natalia’s confidence in bed had increased over the last few months, she still preferred Cash to take the lead. He rolled onto his back and held his arms out wide, palms facing up. “I’m all yours, baby.”
He closed his eyes, his mouth parting as she pressed searing-hot lips to his neck, shoulder, chest, working slowly down his body. Her tongue traced warm, wet circles around his nipples and over his abdomen. She licked each pronounced muscle before moving farther down. Oh God, yeah. He thrust his hands into her hair to control the speed. She immediately stopped, removed his hands, and rocked back on her heels.
“Oh no, you don’t,” she said, wagging her finger. She pushed his arms over his head. “I’m in charge. Keep them there, or I’ll tie them up.”
His tongue darted out to wet his lips as a flush of desire made his cheeks burn.
Natalia briefly frowned and then smiled. “You like the idea of that?”
Losing Game: A Winning Ace Novel (Book 2) Page 16
