“There you are, darling.”
Darling? I laughed despite myself as Luke swept me in his arms and his mouth sealed my lips in a brief but heated kiss. For a moment, it made me feel like he actually missed me. He pulled away and slid his arm over my shoulders. Oh right, he’s acting again. I gathered up my resolve and prepared myself to talk in a high-pitched voice that most girls seemed to have when reunited with their boyfriends.
“Did you enjoy the tower?” he asked as he brought me closer to his friend.
“Yes, it was pretty good,” I said flatly. In truth, I was a bit disappointed. The tower was stripped bare of its original furnishings and the replacements didn’t look very authentic. It was a bit like visiting Disneyland, but I had a nice walk along London Bridge.
“Jessica, this is my friend Brandon I was talking to you about. Brandon this is my girlfriend, Jessica.”
Brandon made a muddled first impression. Like Luke, the trappings of great wealth weren’t lost on him: the Prada glasses, the gleaming watch on his wrist, his Italian leather shoes. He wasn’t nearly as handsome or poised, but he had an air of polished dignity that intimidated me. His eyes met mine in a cool, unflinching gaze. From the way he looked at me, it was almost as if he didn’t like me. No, it wasn’t that. Maybe it was a lack of trust.
“It’s a pleasure.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Are you a big football fan?”
I gave him a small shrug. “A little bit. I used to play when I was younger.” I retreated into Luke’s comforting embrace and smiled at Brandon. “You can’t go to England without seeing a football match, right?”
He nodded solemnly, his eyes still refusing to let go of me. “Too right,” he said in a thick British accent. Glancing at his watch, he made a comical sound. “Ah! Kick off is in ten minutes. Let’s get to our seats.”
I could feel Luke’s excitement through my body as he stood behind me in the line, his hands ever so slightly moving up the curve of my hips. It was so much more electrifying than a kiss. He rubbed into my flesh in small, hard circles. The paparazzi stood nearby, clicking away at us as I turned around in his arms to lay my head over his chest. I didn’t do it because I wanted to give them a show; I wanted to quiet the desire stirring in my core.
As we walked through security and made our way through the stadium buzzing from thousands of horns, it was quickly apparent that Luke arranged for front row seats. A sprinkling of navy-blue Tottenham supporters were scattered among the hundreds of West Ham rosettes, flags, and checkered banners. I reeled back from the fevered energy flowing from the West Ham fans, taken aback by their intense, almost violent screaming. After a few minutes, the screaming stopped and I felt their cheers soaring through me as we walked to the seats and looked across the green field.
“Would you like a drink, Jessica?” Brandon asked politely.
“Yeah, sure.”
“I’ll get us a few pints.”
“Thanks mate.”
I looked at Luke curiously. His accent changed from an American one to one that was slightly British. He raised his eyebrow at me. “What?”
“Nothing,” I said, smiling.
Brandon returned with three sopping mugs of dark beer and set one down in front of me.
I curled my fingers around the cold plastic and raised the frothy rim to my lips. The beer was thick and full of complex flavors. I smacked my lips in appreciation and wished I had something sweet to contrast the bitterness of the beer.
“The crowd seems a bit crazy.”
A group of West Ham supporters behind our row drunkenly slurred a song about bubbles.
“West Ham and Tottenham Hotspur have a huge rivalry. It’s going to be mad.” Brandon smiled knowingly at Luke. “Remember that time in Liverpool? They kicked you out of the stadium.”
Luke flushed a bright magenta as he took a sip from his beer. “Yeah.”
I leaned in closer, thoroughly enjoying the embarrassment shining on his face. “What did you do?”
Brandon spoke before Luke could get a word in. “He beat up a couple people.”
“They deserved it.”
How interesting. “I never would have guessed you could be such a hooligan.”
Luke gave me a roguish wink.
The fans behind me continued to sing. “Forever blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the air.”
One of them kicked the back of my seat and my beer slopped all over my hands. Luke turned around in his seat to glare at them but I took his hand and squeezed it.
“Sorry, love.” The man who had accidentally kicked my seat gave me a toothy grin, his cheeks ruddy from alcohol.
“It’s cool,” I said as I wiped my hand on the wall.
His red-rimmed eyes scanned my clothes and narrowed in suspicion. “Who are you supporting?”
I was suddenly aware that they were probably drunk enough to fight anyone who wasn’t supporting their team. “West Ham,” I said before others could intervene.
“Good.” The fan leaned back into his seat and they resumed the team song.
Brandon’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Like we’d say anything different surrounded by this lot.”
At last, the players spilled over the field, and the red and blue fans stood up in unison, letting out earsplitting shrieks and cheers. I clapped my hands over my ears as the fan behind me screamed encouragement to West Man and shouted filthy obscenities to the black and white Tottenham players.
“Sod off, you fucking cunts!”
The man who had kicked my chair was standing on his seat, gesticulating wildly as he screamed insults. Taken aback, I looked at Luke and Brandon, who didn’t seemed perturbed by the filth streaming out of his mouth. Maybe it’s a British thing.
West Ham kicked off and the fast-paced game began. Within the first five minutes, the Tottenham forwards had passed the ball through West Ham’s defense. The right defense sprinted back towards the forward—he was inside the goalie box and everyone around me was screaming, even Luke was bellowing something intelligible. And then the Tottenham forward stumbled forward and tripped over the West Ham defense’s leg, foiling what could have been a goal.
The stands were in an uproar as the referee blasted his whistle and ripped out a bright red card, which he held up high. The reaction from the stands was downright frightening. Thousands of them stood up to hurl insults at the referee as the player argued with him. I was close enough to see the veins popping out from his neck.
“I don’t understand—what happened?”
Luke’s face was pinched with worry. “Well, the defense tripped the Tottenham forward within the goal box, so that’s an automatic red card. They’ll have to play one man short the whole game.”
Suddenly, I pitched forward and the rest of my beer spilled on the floor as the fan behind me jostled my seat in his haste to stand up.
“HE TRIPPED! IT WAS A BLOODY ACCIDENT, YOU FUCKING TWAT!”
His voice stabbed my ears with every syllable. He actually hurled his empty beer cup onto the field; I saw it sail over my head, sprinkling my hair with drops of beer.
“Fuck’s sake.” Now I was drenched with beer.
Within moments, a pair of neon green police officers swarmed over him. I turned around in my seat to watch, feeling a grim satisfaction. Serves him right.
“Sir, you need to leave the stadium.”
He ripped his elbow out of their grasp and sneered at them. “Piss off.”
Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say. Each of them grabbed his arms and twisted them behind his back, but now his friends had noticed what was happening and they stood up, shouting at the police.
I reflexively grabbed Luke’s arm and squeezed; he was still focused on the game.
“What?” he said as he turned around. “Oh.”
I don’t know what it was. Maybe the years of living in violent homes had prepared me to spot a volatile event before it happened, but all the hairs on the back of my neck were raised and
a voice told me to get out of the stadium as soon as possible.
“Luke, we need to leave,” I said, my grip on his arm was vice-like.
“What? Are you all right?”
He sounded insulted. I could almost hear his thoughts: Leave in the beginning of the match? Are you crazy? He tried to pull his arm out of my grasp but my fingers bit harder into his flesh.
“No, I’m not fucking all right.”
Brandon wheeled around to join our conversion, his face pulled in a slight frown.
My heart raced like a bird beating its wings against a cage. More and more purple-red fans converged together, completely ignoring the game on the stadium, infused with alcohol and rage.
The West Ham fans in our section stood up in unison, some of them making threatening gestures towards the police. The policemen jostled to the side and they yelled into their radios, fear written all over their faces. Then one of the fans grabbed an officer and another one sank his fist into his stomach. The policeman crumpled to his feet and submerged under a wave of furious fans.
“Oh, shit.”
Suddenly, Luke climbed over our seats with a determined look on his face. “I’m going to help him.”
I looked at Brandon’s stunned face. “Where is he going?”
Is he nuts? “Luke!” I lunged forward and caught his sleeve. “This is no time for bravado!”
“I need to help him,” he roared at me.
Brandon leapt over the seats and grabbed Luke’s arm. “Mate, listen. You can’t help him. You’ll get the piss beaten out of you.”
“Luke,” I screamed when he turned back towards the cop. “Don’t be stupid. You’ll get killed.”
A line of policemen moved down the stands with riot gear. I pointed towards them. “Look, help’s on its way. Let’s go.”
The entire situation blew up from a pack of rowdy fans to an all out riot within only a few minutes. I grabbed my purse and climbed over the seats as Luke came to his senses. Several of the rabid fans were already backing away from the police. Bleeding profusely from his nose, the policeman resurfaced and unhooked his baton swinging from his hip. Luke’s arm curled around my shoulder as we swept up the stands, desperate to get away. All around us, people were fighting and yelling—there was confusion everywhere. I saw several West Ham fans ganging up on a Tottenham supporter with broken, sharp pieces of plastic in their hands.
Luke broke away from me and pulled off a man beating on a crumpled Tottenham fan lying down under the seats. They grappled with each other and suddenly fists were flying. Bright camera flashes suddenly burned my eyeballs and I glanced towards them, horrified at the group of photographers clicking away. I turned around and tried to block the scene and screamed as Luke’s face whipped back with a fierce blow. Suddenly, Brandon jumped into the fray and pulled him off Luke. I slipped off my heels and held one in my hand as a weapon, ready to stab anyone who attacked me with the pointed stiletto.
His shirt was ripped and he was bleeding from his mouth. He winced at the bright flashes and held his arm over his eyes.
His lips moved to form one word as his eyes widened.
“Fuck.”
Chapter 7
“Well, you can’t say it wasn’t an interesting match,” said Brandon. His cheery voice echoed hollowly in Luke’s hotel suite.
Luke smoldered on the couch, glaring moodily at Brandon. “We didn’t even get to half-time. The tickets were two hundred pounds each.”
Holy crap. All that money wasted. I sat next to him and stroked his arm. “Yeah, thanks for bringing me to the football game,” I said in a dry voice. “I mean, now I can say that I’ve been to one. I’ll never forget the experience.”
For a moment, Brandon’s eyes met mine and he looked like he wanted to laugh, but he quickly looked away.
“You don’t have to be so sarcastic,” Luke said, glowering at me. He suddenly covered his eyes with one hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “They took photos of me fighting. I can’t wait to see the headlines.”
Suddenly, I remembered what it was that we were doing and that his father would almost certainly see photos of Luke fighting with the West Ham fan. I sobered instantly and squeezed Luke’s hand.
“Alright, well, I’ll let you get patched up and maybe later we can meet up.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
I stood up and took Brandon’s hand. I wished that he would stop looking at me with that calculating look. “See you later.”
“It was lovely meeting you.”
He gave me a swift smile and then he swept from the room. I didn’t move until I heard the elevator door chime.
My bare feet turned on the slick marble floor and I gazed around at the stunning suite. I had to suppress a wide grin as I took it all in. We might’ve hit a snag at the football match, but so what? It was the most exciting day of my life. All day I walked around sightseeing and I was having the best time of my life, but Luke wasn’t.
“I’m glad that you think this is funny,” he said in a dour voice.
My face fell as I noticed his face flushed with humiliation and anger. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m just really happy here. I really want to thank you so much for everything.”
He didn’t say anything, but his eyes softened slightly.
I rejoined Luke on the white leather couch. He was still holding the icepack on his face. His hand was white with cold and a wave of sympathy rippled through me.
“Here, let me take it,” I said, placing my hand on his icepack. The goose bumps on my arm were raised as I inched closer to him. Our faces were close and he was looking at me with his hard, blue eyes that always made me feel vulnerable. “Your friend doesn’t seem to like me very much.”
“He’s just suspicious. Usually the girls I’m with are gold diggers.”
That took me aback. “Do I look like a gold digger?”
His shoulder shrugged under my hand. “No. You don’t act like one, either. That’s probably why he’s confused.”
“He’s going to figure this out. He’s going to realize it’s all a sham.” There was a sharp, painful feeling in my chest as I said it. None of this felt fake. I looked at his face, trying to register his feelings. I wanted him to say something.
Before I could stop myself, my hand flew to his hair and I began to brush the dark strands off his forehead. He closed his eyes and sighed, his neck craning over the couch as his shoulder sagged. “I’m worried about my father. He’s going to get the wrong idea from those photos because I used to get into fights at football matches.”
The fact that poised, dignified Luke would do something so pedestrian made me want to laugh. The two images clashed horribly. It didn’t make sense. It was like seeing the Queen of England throwing back a pint at a dive bar. “Maybe you should call him now and explain it all before it’s in the papers.”
Luke made a dissenting sound. “It’ll just make it worse if I bring attention to it.” His eyes opened and blazed with intensity. “I don’t have to explain myself to him.”
I just kept stroking his hair, dragging my fingertips across his scalp. “I’m going to take the icepack off for a few minutes.” I set the icepack on the coffee table and smiled at Luke’s grumpy expression. I leaned in slightly, my hair falling like a curtain between our faces as I gave him a kiss on his frozen cheek. His skin was so cold that it burned my lips. The blue eyes watched me carefully as I leaned back and resumed my stroking of his hair.
“Why are you doing this?” His voice was as cold as his skin.
“You know, not everyone has an ulterior motive revolving around screwing you over.”
“Not in my world.” He shook his head. “Do you know how rare it is for someone to approach me without expecting something in return?”
I would, I thought fervently as a dull longing throbbed inside my chest. I would never take advantage of you, ever. “You don’t give people a chance.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Luke, the firs
t night we met you shoved a NDA in my face.”
He looked bewildered. “So?”
“So, if you do that with everyone you meet, you’re never going to be able to trust anyone. Sometimes, you have to take a risk to get what you want.” I spoke more about myself than him. My cheeks went a bit pink as Luke gave me a shrewd look. “I was always afraid of men. Well, ever since my childhood. Being alone with men made me panic, so I never dated. I never had boyfriends. I just avoided the whole thing, even though a part of me was desperately lonely. Even though it wasn’t reasonable.” I looked at him directly. “Just like it’s not reasonable to make everyone you know sign a NDA.”
He sighed and waved me off. “For all I know, this is just part of your con.”
“You’re the one who interviewed my foster parents,” I said in a shaking voice. “I’m not lying about that. I’ve had a lot of bad experiences, Luke. They warped my perception of people, just like yours have. A part of me knows that they ruined me.”
Heat flushed under my skin and my hand fell from Luke’s neck to clench into a fist at my side. I hated what they had done to me. They did ruin me. Look at me. I’m with this gorgeous man because he’s paying me, because I’m too fucked in the head to find something real. I couldn’t look at Luke anymore and I dropped my face into my hands. My face was screwed up in pain, fighting against the pressure building up behind my eyes.
His thigh bumped against my leg as he slid closer to me and began rubbing my back. “Sometimes, I feel like that, too. Whenever he’d visit, he never had anything to say to me that wasn’t a criticism.”
I cringed against the heat in his voice, even though it wasn’t directed towards me.
“Even now, he calls me up to complain about everything: from the women I date to my management style to whatever the hell he notices in the press. It’s his fault that my mother killed herself. You’re not ruined, Jessica. You can’t think of yourself as a victim. It’s not healthy.”
His hand on my back reminded me that there were people in the world who cared about me, and the fact that his voice wasn’t full of pity made me feel a bit better. His hands curled around my shoulders and I allowed myself to be lifted up. He steered me into his arms and I collapsed into his warm strength, allowing myself to feel better. I still felt a pang of self-pity. No matter how genuine Luke seemed, I was just a means to an end. He needed me to protect his money. Maybe he felt something for me, but he would never trust me.
Break (Billionaire New Adult Romance) Page 9
