Wiping at the shower door to clear the fog away, she squinted through the glass. Alex’s phone was plugged into the wall, charging, its screen lit up with an incoming message. She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her body and tucking it closed between her breasts.
Leaning over, careful not to drip on the phone, she saw a message flashing over his locked screen, a picture message, from Caroline Morneau with a caption, Just one more. I couldn’t help myself. The picture was tiny, just a thumbnail, but Penny could make out the gist. It was Alex, on the night of the gala. He had Penny pressed up against a wall, his mouth at her neck, his hand covered to the wrist by the skirt of her dress, disappearing between her thighs. Her head was thrown back, eyes closed, fingers digging into his shoulders. Penny swallowed back a wave of panic. They’d snuck away from the party briefly, not quite willing to wait until they got back to the hotel. Obviously someone had followed them and snapped a picture, then sent it to Caroline. Or had Caroline taken the picture herself?
The real question was, why the hell was Caroline messaging it to Alex?
Penny pulled the phone from its charger and swept out of the bathroom, tossing it onto the lump of covers she assumed Alex was buried under.
“Your phone was buzzing.”
His head popped out from under the blankets and he picked up his phone, glancing at the screen before looking back up at her. “Did you see?”
“If you mean, ‘did I see the screen and wonder why Caroline Morneau is sending you photos of us with your hand up my dress,’ then yeah, I saw. What does she mean, she couldn’t help herself?”
“Penny, love, listen,” he said, sitting up, rubbing his hands over his face.
“I’m listening.”
Alex let out a quick breath. “She’s my agent.”
“Your agent?”
“That night when we were on the court, when she interrupted us, I was meeting her to sign the papers.”
Penny eye snapped up at the ceiling and shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she said, looking back at him. “What does her being your agent have anything to do with a picture like that?”
Alex looked away. “She probably wants to stir up some buzz off the court during the tournament.”
A long breath escaped through her lips as it all clicked in her head. “Like she did before the tournament with the Athlete Weekly pictures.”
“Penny…” He trailed off, but he didn’t deny it or call her crazy or even have a moment of realization, like the idea had never occurred to him before.
“Did you know?” she asked, knowing the answer already.
“Penny, love...”
“Did. You. Know?”
“Yes.”
The word was so simple that it took a moment for the implications to hit her. She sat down on the bed and felt the mattress shift as he crawled toward her, sitting beside her at the edge of the bed in just his boxer briefs, his thigh pressing against hers. He slid an arm around her waist, but she shook him off.
“Don’t touch me.” She felt him flinch and then move away, giving her some space.
“Penny, I swear, I don’t know why she took this one and I’d never let her use it.”
“Is that supposed to make it okay? And why did you let her use the others?”
He hesitated and then said in a soft voice, “I thought you hated me, that I didn’t have a chance. She showed me the pictures and said they’d create a nice buzz around my comeback here, I thought, why not?”
“Why not? I don’t know Alex, maybe because some of those moments were private? Maybe because I don’t want my love life plastered all over the internet for everyone to see? Maybe because I trusted you. And that’s really the point, isn’t it? I’m an idiot for trusting you.”
“No, you’re not. I’m the idiot. I’m sorry. I’ll fire her. I’ll do it right now.”
Penny shook her head. “I don’t care that she leaked the pictures, Alex. I care that you told her she could. Were you ever going to tell me?” He looked away and that was all the answer she needed. “Of course not.”
She stood up and went straight for her suitcase, pulling out her training clothes. She had a practice court reserved in a little less than a half hour and Dom would be there any minute. Chucking off the towel, she dressed quickly, not even sparing Alex a glance.
Then her own phone, charging on the dresser, started vibrating and message after message began popping up on the screen. Behind her, she heard Alex’s phone doing the same, a steady stream of blings echoing in the large hotel suite.
“Fuck,” Alex muttered, his eyes on his phone. Then he looked up at Penny, his eyes wide, but his shoulders slumped in defeat and she knew. Caroline leaked the photo.
She should have felt panic rising in her chest or her head aching from the onslaught of bombshells in the last few minutes, but instead a calm washed over her, a stillness that she’d only ever felt before on the tennis court.
“I have training soon. I should get going.”
Moving back across the room, she grabbed a band and pulled her hair up into a quick ponytail. Through the reflection in the mirror she saw the eyes of the man she’d trusted with her body and nearly with her heart, focused on her, total bewilderment on his face.
“Penny,” Alex started as soon as she turned around, but she shook her head. Whatever he had to say, however he thought he could make this better, she didn’t want to hear it.
“I knew something like this would happen. It was all just too damn good to be true.” She couldn’t look at him. If she looked him in the eye, it would weaken her resolve and she had to be strong.
“Penny, love, please,” he tried again, but she ignored him.
She opened the hotel room door and then looked back at the man still sitting on her bed, head in his heads. “You shouldn’t be here when I get back.”
***
Neither Dom nor Jack asked her about what happened when she met them in the lobby, but by their tense silence, it was clear they knew about the picture. They walked in silence down through the lobby, out of the hotel and hopped into the car waiting to take them to Roland Garros. By the time they arrived, the rain had stopped and the sky was clearing to a bright blue.
Dom told her to warm up, so she did. Then they worked on a few footwork drills, followed by their usual pre-match routine, sticking to the basics, making sure her shots were strong going into her match that night. The workout got her heart rate up and a fine sheen of sweat coated her skin by the time they were finished, but it didn’t do anything for her mental state. The odd calm that had settled over her at the hotel had disappeared as soon as they got on the court, replaced by a cloudy mess of confusion, and by the way Dom was looking at her, he definitely noticed. Penny didn’t need him to tell her she’d practiced like crap.
Her hands shook, vibrating with frustration as she packed up her gear and left the practice court. She wasn’t sure who she was most angry at, but she quickly settled upon herself for letting herself give in. She was prepared for this tournament, thanks mostly to him. Playing with him every day had brought her game to a whole new level, her reaction time was shorter, her feet were quicker and no other player had ever tested her will, on and off the court, so thoroughly, but then it had all gone to hell so quickly. When had this become her life? Men and sex and drama instead of what she always wanted, to be the best tennis player in the world. Was it so wrong to want someone to share that with? A dull ache settled in around her heart, her chest tightening.
“Stop it. You have to snap out of it,” she muttered to herself as she turned a corner nearing the street exit and nearly collided headlong with another young woman headed in the opposite direction. A long blond braid whipped against her cheek as the other girl tossed her head in annoyance.
Penny narrowed her eyes as she regained her footing and saw the owner of the blond braid. “Zina.”
“Watch where you are going. Oh. It is you,” her rival said wi
th a small smile. She didn’t sound all that surprised. “I did not expect to see you. I thought maybe you would withdraw.”
“Why would I do that?” Penny cocked her head to the side, not letting the other girl’s slightly larger frame intimidate her. There were a few people loitering around and she recognized most of them as reporters. This had set up written all over it.
“You have no chance to win.”
“You have a short memory.”
She wasn’t going to give Zina or the reporters what they wanted; she wouldn’t be goaded into a fight. Not even while every fiber of her being was screaming at her to haul off and smack the smug, superior smirk off the Russian girl’s face.
“My memory is good. You play your best tennis. I play my worst. I have won two tournaments since that defeat and you have spent time since then not training, but, how you say, fucking Alex Russell.”
Her stomach lurched at the mention of his name, but she kept her reaction off her face. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
Penny walked away, feeling every set of eyes fixed upon her. In a few minutes the internet would probably explode with pictures and reports of her little tête-à-tête with Lutrova, but at least for the first time since she arrived in France, they’d be talking about tennis.
Chapter 21
May 30th
Jasmine was ready to strangle her doubles partner. It wasn’t the all-consuming envy from a few days ago, but she had no idea that being friends with Indiana Gaffney would be more torturous than being rivals. The other girl had made it her mission to find Jasmine a replacement for Teddy.
“What about him?” Indy asked and nodded to her left as a guy walked by them, studying the strings of his racket.
“Too short,” Jasmine said, wrinkling her nose. She’d always preferred taller guys.
They were killing time in the players’ lounge before Penny’s match, rescheduled from the day before because of the rain. She’d asked them to be her cheering section and they were more than happy to oblige. The entire tournament was buzzing about the picture that leaked to every major media outlet she could find. Jasmine had barely glanced at it, but that was enough to tell it was a totally private moment that was put on display for the entire world.
“Okay,” Indy said, scanning the men in the room. “Him, over there by the window, with the bright blue shirt.”
“Gay,” Jasmine said, dismissing him as a candidate.
Indy tilted her head. “Really?”
“Came out last year.”
“Huh, okay. You’re going to have to explain your type for me then, because I’ve pointed out like a dozen perfectly hot guys and you’ve shot down every one.”
“It’s not my fault the last one was gay. Otherwise, he would’ve been an option.”
Indy narrowed her eyes, leaning forward.“I call bullshit. I think you don’t want to be attracted to anyone else, so you’re not.”
Scoffing, Jasmine examined her nails, picking at a broken cuticle. “Attraction is biology, Indy. You can’t just force yourself to ignore it.”
Indy shrugged. “Love makes you blind.”
“Maybe.” Her eye caught on a flash of brown hair across the room. The hair belonged to a young man working his way down the buffet table.
“Paolo Macchia,” Indy said when she saw where her eyes had focused, “I saw him play at Indian Wells last year.”
Jasmine grinned. Olive skin and a floppy mess of dark hair, tall, but lean and like pretty much every guy on tour, in incredible shape. “He’s cute.”
“Very cute with an amazing Italian accent.”
“Good to know.”
Indy leapt to her feet and started in that direction.
“Where are you going?” Jasmine asked, following her.
“To say hi,” Indy said over her shoulder, making a beeline for Paolo.
Jasmine grabbed her arm and tried to pull her to a stop. “You don’t even know if he speaks English.”
“He totally does,” she said, stepping in front of Paolo as he started loading his plate with lettuce. “Hi.”
He stopped and looked up, a wide smile spreading across his face as he looked back and forth between them. “Hello.”
“I’m Indiana,” she said, but leaned away, giving Jasmine a gentle shove forward. “And this is my friend Jasmine.”
“It’s very nice to meet you,” Paolo said, his blue eyes crinkling as his smile deepened. His Italian accent was soft, his English very good.
Indy coughed. “And I’ve gotta go make a call. Be back in a second.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and walked away before Jasmine could say a word.
Paolo cleared his throat softly so she took a deep breath. “Sorry about that. She’s a little crazy.”
“Not so crazy. Your name is Jasmine?”
“Yes, Jasmine Randazzo,” she said, waiting for the immediate flash of recognition in his eyes, but it didn’t come. He just nodded.
“I am Paolo Macchia.”
“I know.” She cringed inwardly. What a stupid thing to say. He probably thought she was some silly girl with a crush who hadn’t been brave enough to approach him on her own. The last part might be true, but the first definitely wasn’t. She still had feelings for Teddy, and there wasn’t room in her heart for anyone else.
Jasmine forgot her embarrassment when an unnatural quiet settled over the players’ lounge. She looked around and saw Alex Russell had entered the room. Gray sweatshirt, hood pulled up over his head, hands tucked into the front pocket, he ignored the stares and the whispers that erupted as soon as they were sure it was him.
“People suck,” Jasmine muttered.
“Yes, they do, very much,” Paolo agreed. “Scusi, signorina, but he is my friend. I have to speak with him.”
“Oh,” she said, “of course.”
Paolo left his tray of food and made his way across the room to Alex, who stopped and spoke to him for moment before they walked together out the door on the opposite end of the lounge.
Indy appeared at her side from nowhere. “So, how’d it go?”
Jasmine whirled on her. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”
“Please, both of you were all smiles before Alex dragged that black cloud in here. Look, Teddy Harrison isn’t the only guy in the world. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Is this about Teddy and me or about the fact that it’s been two days since you kissed Jack Ha—”
Indy shushed her, cutting off the last word, her face suddenly peaked and drawn. “That is not public knowledge.”
Jasmine shrugged her shoulders in defeat. “I’m sorry. Anyway, you were right, his accent is amazing.”
Indy brightened, latching on to the change of subject. “Told you so. Come on, let’s go down and watch the match. Penny could probably use some moral support right about now.”
“Yeah, sure.”
As they made their way down toward the court, Jasmine’s mind was whirling. Maybe she wasn’t such a lost cause after all and maybe Indy wasn’t either.
***
“Game. Set. Match. Harrison.”
In the seats next to her, Dom, Jack and Indy all let out a collective sigh of relief as Penny looked up at the sky, thanking whatever higher power pushed her through the match. It was a close call, but she managed to squeak past her opponent, 7-5, 6-4.
“I’m going to talk to her,” Dom said, standing and making a hasty exit from the player’s box. “See you all back at the hotel.”
They watched him go and Jasmine cringed. She could imagine the lecture Dom would give her if she ever played like that, and maybe for the first time ever, she didn’t envy Penny at all. Then she realized she had her opening, the moment she had been trying to engineer in her head since they sat down to watch the match.
“Maybe you better go with him. She’s probably going to need a friendly face after their talk,” she whispered to Indy, who nodded and left, but not before glancing quickly at Jack, who was making a rather obvious show o
f not looking in Indy’s direction. It made her decision to go through with her plan even easier. They just had to get out of their own way.
They sat in an awkward silence as the crowd around them started to disperse for the bathrooms and concession areas between matches. Jack stood, but Jasmine grabbed the cuff of his pullover jacket and tugged.
He squinted at her, obviously confused. She knew it was odd. In all the time they’d known each other, she couldn’t recall ever having a full conversation with him—just the two of them—without Penny or Teddy around. Jasmine pushed past the awkwardness.
“I need to talk to you.”
“What’s up?” he asked, sitting back down, giving her his full attention. When their eyes met she was startled by how much he and Teddy resembled each other. They were different in so many ways that it was easy to forget sometimes that they were brothers.
“You’ve met my dad, right?” she asked, wanting to approach this the right way. She didn’t want to scare him off before she could make her point.
“Yeah, of course I have.”
“Would you say he’s a good guy?”
Confusion clouded his eyes, but he nodded. “Yeah, your dad’s a great guy. Are you okay, Jasmine?”
“Me? I’m fine. At least, I think I’m fine. I know I’m a little spoiled and I have a tendency to freak out sometimes, but I think my parents did a good job of raising me.”
Jack’s forehead wrinkled and he put a hand on top of hers. “Seriously, Jasmine, are you having some kind of issue with your parents? I don’t think I’m the best person to talk to about something like that.”
She rolled her eyes, pulling her hand free. “Jack, chill, I’m just trying to make a point.”
Game. Set. Match. Page 20
