Page 122 of The Striker (Gods of the Game 1)
Then again, Paris was only a two-and-a-half-hour train ride from London, and Asher and I hadn’t been on our phones all evening.
Vincent scrolled through his cell and shoved it at me. “Someone saw you guys at the Golden Wharf a few weeks ago. They posted a picture on some sports forum but it didn’t make the rounds until today.”
I stared at the screen, open-mouthed, because the picture he’d pulled up wasn’t of me and Asher.
It was of me and Clive.
It was grainy, but our faces were clearly visible. The photographer had captured me getting out of his car while he waited with his arm out like a gentleman. We were smiling at each other like we were in love, even though I’d been hungry and he’d been distracted.
Thankfully, whoever took the photo hadn’t stuck around to see us meet Asher and Ivy. If they had, I’d bet my last quid the pictures would’ve made the roundswaysooner.
Oxygen flowed more smoothly into my lungs. My brother didn’t know about Asher—yet.
“Clive Hart? Seriously?” Vincent’s annoyed voice brought my attention back to him. “Of all the people you could’ve chosen,you chose to dateClive Hart? I told you he was a fuckboy and I meant it. Don’t fall for his nice-guy act, Lettie. It’s broken a lot of hearts.”
“I’m not dating Clive,” I said, trying to wrap my head around the new and unexpected development. I didn’t know there were people so invested in rugby players’ love lives. “We went on one date. That’s it.”
“Then whose shoes are those?”
Fuck. I realized my mistake too late.
“Uh…” I scrambled for an excuse. “I—I have a friend from RAB over. We were going over something forLorena. You know, that school showcase I’m an understudy for? He spilled something so he’s taking a shower.”
“I don’t hear the water running.”
My brother was usually an idiot.Whydid he have to be so observant today of all days?
“I guess he’s lathering,” I said. “He’s very, um, thorough with the soap.”
Vincent’s eyes tapered in suspicion. He didn’t believe me for a second. “Are you sleeping with him? I just want to have a talk.” He started toward my bedroom.
“No!” I grabbed his arm. “I told you—he’s showering.”
“I can wait in your room.”
“No. You arenotgoing to storm in there and embarrass me.” I released him but put myself in his path, blocking him from the door. “I’m an adult, Vince. While I appreciate your concern, I can do whatever I want withwhoeverI want. I don’t need to run it by you first. You don’t see me interrogating you about every girl you’re seen with.”
“That’s not the same.”
“Why not? Double standard much?” I shook my head. “I know you’re worried about me and you don’t want to see me get hurt, but IpromiseI know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” Vincent’s mask of anger fractured, revealing slivers of worry underneath. “You haven’t dated anyone seriously since Rafael, and we know how that ended. You were inconsolable after the breakup. I don’t want to see you in that place again. Ever. It was…fuck, Lettie. It was a scary time.”
My indignation melted at his agonized expression. For all his bluster and overprotectiveness, he really did have my best interests at heart, and he was right. The early post-breakup days had been mired in darkness. Between the accident and the abrupt end of a three-year relationship, there’d been times when…
I swallowed. “I get it,” I said, more softly this time. “But I’m not twenty-one anymore. Let me handle my relationships as I see fit, okay?”
Vincent stared at me for an extra beat before he let out a resigned sigh. “Fine. But if anyone fucks with you, tell me and I really will get the team to jump him.” He eyed the trainers again. “Soareyou sleeping with your colleague? Who is it? Is it serious?”
“Vincent.”
“Just curious.” He cracked a small smile. “Anyway, I didn’t come all this way just to yell at you about Clive—though this conversation would be a lot longer if you reallyweredating him.”
I figured as much. Vincent was as capable of yelling over the phone as he was in person. “Do you have another PR thing in the city?”
“No. Coach wanted to check in with me since I, ah, backed out of the training sessions with you and Donovan. Dad’s doing fine with the nurse now, so I’m actually returning to London earlier than expected. I’m staying through the weekend, then I’ll go back to Paris to wrap up loose ends. But I’ll be training with you again starting the Monday after next.”
I suspected there was more to the story than he was sharing, but I was too stuck on his last sentence to delve deeper.I’ll be training with you again starting the Monday after next.