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Page 140 of The Striker (Gods of the Game 1)

She punctuated her question with additional jabs.

I hid my grin behind my fist while Asher raised his hands in surrender.

“Sports car. Japanese steel. Castration.” He nodded. “Understood.”

“Good.” Sloane dropped her arm, took a deep breath, and smoothed a hand over her flawlessly tailored skirt suit. “Scarlett, it was lovely to meet you. Asher,stay out of trouble.”

With that, she left. Her heels clacked against the marble floors of the suite’s entryway before the door opened and closed, and silence descended once more.

“You could look a little less entertained by her threat,” Asher said dryly. “Castration would be unfortunate forbothof us.”

“Yeah, but it’d be worse for you.” I offered a cheeky smile. “At least I have dildos to take over the—aah!” I squealed when Asher swept me up with a growl and carried me to the bedroom. “Let me down, you Neanderthal!” I pounded a fist against his back, but I was laughing when he finally laid me down on the bed.

He hovered over me, his face creased with a mock scowl. “What were you saying about dildos?”

“That they’re one of mankind’s greatest inventions?” I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed away his adorablyboyish pout. “Butthey’re not as good as something else I can think of.”

“That’s the right answer.” His lips lingered on mine for a moment before he pulled back and examined me. “How was the plane ride? Do you want me to draw you a bath?”

Warmth dripped from my chest into my stomach.

“It was okay.” Eleven hours was a long time to spend in the air, but the private jet’s luxurious amenities prevented any bad flare-ups. The seats had pressure-relief cushions, and I could walk around and stretch my legs whenever I started getting stiff. They even had a heated massage chair onboard. “I can take a bath later. Right now, I need to eat. I’m starving.”

While Asher ordered us room service, I explored our home for the next three days. The suite was twice the size of my flat in London. Its living room boasted a home theatre system and a state-of-the-art universal remote while the lavish dining room was big enough to accommodate eight. Delamonte soaps and gels lined the bathroom’s double marble vanity, and a wall of one-way tinted windows provided a dazzling view of the Tokyo cityscape. There was even a grand piano and a balcony with a second dining area.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Asher came up beside me as I stared out at the sea of lights below us. “Makes me want to watchTokyo Driftagain. Do you think Sloane will consider that ‘stepping foot near’ a sports car?”

Exasperated laughter erupted from my lips. “Don’t even joke about that. She willactuallycastrate you, you know, and she’ll spin it into a good PR move too. She’s terrifying.”

He grinned. “That’s why I pay her the big bucks. She puts up with a lot of shit from me.”

“Mmhmm.” I could only imagine. Being a celebrity publicist sounded like the most stressful job ever. “Like your car crashes over the past few years?”

I didn’t ask the question with the intention of being combative. It came out soft, almost hesitant, but the ease with which it escaped proved it’d always been there, lurking beneath the layers of my denial and avoidance.

Asher’s grin faded. “Yes,” he said after a long pause. “Like the crashes.”

We’d avoided the topic all summer, but Sloane’s warning had ripped my layers to shreds and bared the ten-ton elephant in the room.

My hang-ups about cars and driving were known quantities. That was why Asher hired Earl to drive me to training every week and why he was careful to stick to the traffic rules when I was with him.

But I didn’t know what he was like when I wasn’t there. Was he the same guy who made headlines for destroying his Ferrari in an illegal street race with another footballer? The one whose off-pitch antics fed into the controversy of his transfer because people worried his recklessness would eventually catch up with him and screw the whole team over?

I hadn’t asked because I hadn’t wanted to know the answer, but the question was out there now, and there was no taking it back.

“Sloane’s warning about staying away from sports cars.” My next words stuck in my throat before I forced them out. “Was that a general warning, or do you still race?”

I hated doubting him, but I had to know.

Even racing in official competitions like Formula One was dangerous, and those had safety measures in place. I’d seen footage from a few illegal street races. They were the Wild West, and the likelihood of injury or arrest was even higher than in sanctioned racing.

Asher stilled, his throat bobbing with a hard swallow. Tension coated the air like oil spilled over water.

“Not often,” he said. “I haven’t done it in a while.”

“When was the last time you raced?” I didn’t want to turn our first night in Japan into an interrogation, but I’d already opened Pandora’s box.

We might as well see it through to the end.




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