I glance around the room. Adam and Gavin are excited, Abby is smiling like crazy, Hawke is, well, being Hawke—staring at his food with a blank look on his face. Dax, the sexy thing, he’s moving his hand higher and higher up my leg and pretty soon we’ll have to kick everyone out so we can get naked again. Six whole weeks without sex has my hormones on a hair-trigger.
“I’ll have five tickets left at the box office,” I tell them. “Unless…” I pointedly look at each of the guys, “you want to bring someone with you.”
Hawke’s head snaps up, the disinterested pouty look replaced by a sly smile. “Maybe.” His eyes betray him when they flick over to Abby for the briefest of seconds. Is he trying to make her jealous?
“Right, okay. Adam? Gavin? Either of you need an extra?”
“Nah, I like to keep my options open,” Adam laughs.
“Of course,” I answer, my tone dry.
“Gav?”
His cheeks redden slightly. “No. I just want to see you play, no distractions.”
Poor Gav. The stupid promotions team at their label, including that cow Lila, has told him not to flaunt his sexuality because it detracts from female fans’ fantasy of him. God forbid he be seen with a man in public.
I would have told them to buggar off, but it’s not my call to make.
“Okay, so six tickets. It’s Saturday at three. I’ll leave them under my name.”
Everyone agrees to meet out front before entering the stadium. I’m excited. None of my non-footy playing friends except Abby have seen one of my games. Now I’ll have my own cheering section.
Dax is back and all of the freaking out I’ve done over the last six weeks seems like an overreaction. The paparazzi, the pictures with Lila, feeling inadequate… it falls to the wayside as long as he’s with me. The guys are like family to me, and I can’t wait to show them what I can do on the pitch.
Dax
“Hell, it’s too early for someone to be calling.” I tuck my head under my pillow, trying to block out the shrill sound of my phone.
“It’s ten, Dax,” Kate mumbles sleepily, wrapping herself tighter around my waist, burying her head into my chest.
“Bloody hell.” The phone stops, then immediately kicks in again. Several texts ping in at the same time.
Trying to shed the heavy layer of sleep that is making my body sluggish, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and promptly fall arse over tits when the duvet refuses to release my feet. “Shit!”
“Are you alright?” Kate’s face pops over the edge of the mattress, imprints from the sheets still on her cheek.
“Yeah, angel. Just not quite awake yet.” I manage a smile so Kate rolls away, probably to go back to sleep. Then her mobile starts to ring.
“What’s going on, Dax?” It takes me a minute to find my own phone as it’s still tucked away in last night’s jeans. Kate’s rings again, and now I’m beginning to get worried.
Eighteen missed calls—three from Rachel, two from Ross, one from Gavin, and eleven unknown. “What the—?” Flicking through the texts, there’s more of the same, Rachel asking me to call, Ross demanding that I call, and Gavin asking if I’m okay.
Okay? Why wouldn’t I be okay?
“Dax?” Kate is standing next to me, her mobile in her hand. She’s fully awake now and she looks very unhappy. Kate’s normally bright expression is sullen, brows knitted tightly and that perfect mouth turned down. “I forgot to tell you something,” she whispers, sinking down onto the edge of the bed.
“Huh?” I don’t quite catch what Kate says with my head all up with horrific scenarios that would cause both of our mobiles to blow up simultaneously.
“Dax.”
“Yeah?” Turning, I see the absolute misery on Kate’s face. Fear drops into my stomach like a lead brick. I sit next to her on the bed, pulling her into my arms. “What’s going on? Do you know about these calls? I was about to ring Gavin.”
“It’s just that… well, yesterday before I saw you…”
Kate is biting into her lip, nervously twisting her hair into a knot over and over. She jumps up, hurrying into the bathroom. When she returns, her hair is in a perfect ponytail. She’s freaking out.
“Kate, you’re scaring me. What happened?” My heart is racing and that damn instinct to hurt someone floods my body.
Rule 5—Defend what’s yours.
The urge to protect Kate, to shield her from whatever she’s frightened of is so strong I nearly yell just to get her to tell me who it is I’ll have to kill.
“When I left my match yesterday, the media…” She lets the sentence hang unfinished because the rest is obvious.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, “they found you.”
“Yeah.”
“Shit. Tell me everything.”
Once Kate is done explaining her run in with a mob of journalists that for the most part assaulted her, I’m seeing red. We’ve been so careful, not wanting Kate’s name to get out to the press. In interviews I say I’m in a relationship if asked, but that’s the most I’ll disclose. Neither Kate nor myself wanted the shitstorm that would descend if they found out who she was. Now it’s too late.
“C’mon,” I say to Kate, pulling her to her feet.
“Where? What are we doing?”
“Get dressed. We’re going to my flat. I want to use my laptop to see what is being said. Yours is too slow, angel.”
I hurry into my jeans and yank my shirt on, impatient for Kate to do the same. After a few minutes, she gets tired of me following her around the room, nagging her to move faster, and explodes.
“Dax, stop rushing me! I have to get my bloody clothes on. Go call Gavin.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I want to read it myself first. I don’t want to hear second-hand. It will only make me angry with whoever is telling me.”
Kate pulls a face, but finishes brushing her teeth and puts her shoes on. “I’m ready.”
“Right, let’s go.”
Kate
Dax Davies.
A man of so many contradictions. With the rare exception being the guys in the band and myself—and even then it’s only occasionally—he keeps his emotions shuttered in so tight it’d take a freaking crowbar and a sledgehammer to chip away at that stoic façade. Yet when upset, thrown headfirst into that protective fight mode from his days in the cage, anyone can read the pure, lethal fury on his face. Even when it’s hidden behind that blank stare.
Like right now.
“Fucking bastard cunts,” he hisses along with a slew of other shocking profanities that fall from his lips as he pulls up website after website detailing my encounter with the paparazzi yesterday.
As Dax skims each one, I read over his shoulder, my hands trembling, tears pressing at the back of my eyes. I can feel the shame flooding my skin, prickling hot up my neck as I see each headline.
“Is Dax Davies Cheating on Lila Griffin with Co-Ed?”
“Love Triangle Involving Rock Star, Hollywood Heiress, and UCLA Student.”
“Soccer Standout Breaks Up Couple on the Verge of Stardom.”
Swallowing down the bile that’s crept up my dry throat, I manage to croak out a few words. “So… I’m the other woman.”
Dax stiffens, sitting up straight from where he’s hunched in front of his laptop. “Fuck no. We know it’s not true. I don’t give a rat’s arse what these shit for brains write.”
Only, I know that’s not true. He cares. And even if he didn’t, I care. I don’t want to be involved in this part of Dax’s life, the part that is getting more and more famous with each passing day. Especially not painted as the villain in this scenario—vs. that cow Lila of all people!
Dax continues flicking through the articles, grumbling under his breath the entire time. The front door of the flat opens. “Hey guys!” Gavin calls out. He’s got his surfboard under his arm, deftly swinging the long board into the room and leaning it on the wall. His hair is all mussed from the ocean, stiff in places from the dried salt. He takes
one look at my face and frowns. “So I take it you heard?”
I glance at Dax’s back, coiled with tension, muscles ready to strike out at anyone who so much as looks at him wrong, then flick my gaze back to Gavin. The sympathetic look he gives me is so heartfelt and honest the tears I had been holding back fill my eyes.
I move away quickly, not letting Dax see how upset I am. He’s on edge enough to act first and think later—not a good combination with someone as volatile as Dax. Add in seeing me cry? Well, you may as well roll out the hearse for whoever pisses him off and happens to be within striking distance.
“I-I have to go. Practice starts soon.” I nearly trip on my own feet, stumbling towards the door. Gavin catches me before I end up smacking my head on the wall.
“Careful, Kate.” One blonde eyebrow goes up, asking a silent question. Are you all right?
I’m far from all right, but I can’t let Dax know. Looking over my shoulder, I see that Dax has rung someone and is busy shouting into his mobile.
“I’ll see you later,” I mumble. Gavin doesn’t look happy, but he lets me go.
Somehow, I manage to wait until the door closes behind me before I freak out.
I saw some of the comments on those articles, confirming everything I already knew.
“Why would Dax Davies hook up with that girl?”
“Who is that nobody? She’s nothing special.”
“God! I’m better looking than that! What is he thinking?”
“Who would cheat on Lila Griffin? She’s smoking hot!”
Instead of hopping the bus to practice, I walk, needing the time alone to process how my life is about to change. I don’t skip footy practice, ever, but I can’t bring myself to deal with it today. The fear of encountering another mob of paparazzi is enough to keep me away. Let alone what my teammates will think about the articles.
My mobile rings several times in a row, texts pinging every few minutes. I know it’s Dax, so I turn it off, not ready to discuss anything while it’s so raw. While I’m so raw.
Hours later, after wandering the city, I trudge down the hall to my flat, shoving the key in and more or less collapsing inside.
Part of me—okay, a huge part of me—expected Dax to be waiting for me at my flat, overcome with worry, wrapping me in those massive arms and letting me know he was going to fix everything. Instead, I come home to a dark, empty space.
Why would Dax be here? He’s probably realized how embarrassing it is for him to be caught “philandering” with a nobody footy player from Hackney. I mean, he’s never even told me he loves me.
It seems that no matter how close I get to Dax, he’ll always be just out of reach.
53
Dax
“This is bullshit, Ross. It’s fucking manipulative and I won’t be a part of it.” I’ve jumped up from my seat on one of the plush leather chairs in my manager’s office. “Everyone at the label, and you as well,” I point at Ross behind his massive desk, “knows that this is all fucking Lila’s doing!”
After seeing the ridiculous lies all over the Internet, I immediately called Ross to get this mess under control.
“Dax, we don’t know that.” Rachel Whatley, head of marketing and promotions for our band, bravely puts a kind hand on my arm in an attempt to be reassuring. And fails miserably.
“Rachel, you’re brilliant at what you do,” I say honestly, “but that little bitch you have working for you is devious and borderline psychotic.” My voice turns into a snarl by the time I’ve spit out the last word.
Rachel frowns, almost looking hurt, but I know her better than that. She’s beautiful and charming yet tough as nails. She has to be to put up with spoiled rock stars and pompous men in power suits all day.
“Dax, my hands are tied.” She holds her hands together as if they’re bound in a gesture meant to prove her point. “Lila’s dad is huge at the label. Hell, he’s huge in Los Angeles. I can’t fire her and I’ve tried to reassign her. She wants your account.”
“This is crap! She wants it because she’s trying to ruin my life!” I roar, standing up to pace the back of the room.
Rule 2—Never let your emotions show.
Fuck that! I don’t know if I’ve ever been this angry. I know it’s because I’ve been rendered helpless and that pisses me off more than anything. Nothing I do will stop Lila and her campaign to stalk her way into my life. Even worse, this entire thing makes me look like a whinging crybaby, which makes me want to punch something until it bleeds.
“Calm down,” Ross says in an even tone, but his eyes betray him. Wide and fixed on my clenching hands, I can tell he’s nervous to be around me when I’m this murderously angry.
He should be afraid. Maybe a smack to his head will get my point across?
“Dax.” Rachel has turned in her seat to watch me as I struggle to rein in my emotions. “I’ll talk to her again, okay? I promise.”
My fists are balled so tight that I can feel the pressure in my knuckles.
“What about Kate?” I growl.
“What about her?” Ross asks.
I leap over to him, slamming my hands down on his desk with a loud bang, leaning over far enough that he scoots his chair back to get out of reach.
“They know who she is. She was fucking surrounded by paparazzi at her school, Ross! What are you going to do to get the attention off of her and keep her safe?” I bare my teeth, breathing heavily through my nose, knowing I probably look demented. Ross’s eyes get even wider, shocked that I’d direct my fury at him. He’s never seen me in the cage, doesn’t know what I’m capable of. Now, maybe he has an idea.
Once again, Rachel plays with fire by touching me while I’m a hair’s breadth from exploding. She pulls on my arm until I sit back down in my chair.
“Let’s come up with a plan, okay?” she says calmly. “I’ll call a team together and we’ll meet in the conference room.”
Mashing my lips together, I cross my arms over my chest to keep my fists under control. “Fine. You better not think I’ll be placated by some pathetic, hollow words and a pat on my back.”
She smiles. “I’d expect nothing less.”
Six and a half hours of ‘emergency meetings’ later and I’m so shattered my eyes are blurry. Who knew how much complete bullshit was involved in publicity? It’s all fucking smoke and mirrors with paparazzi set up to ‘catch’ you doing all sorts of things, from holding specific products to promote or being seen with specific people in specific places.
The only thing we could actually agree on was leaving Kate out of everything—refusing to acknowledge her, any of the rumors, or draw attention to her by association. No way am I going to let this mess affect her anymore than it has already.
While waiting for the lift, I pull out my mobile to call Kate only to realize it’s after midnight. Fuck. Kate’s big game is tomorrow. I can’t wake her up only to upset her with this load of bollocks. Frustrated, I shove the phone back in my pocket. Kate ducked out of my flat earlier without telling me, and when I tried to follow, Gavin said to give her time. I hadn’t meant to wait this long.
“Hey, you can catch a ride home with me,” Rachel says as she reaches the bank of lifts and stops next to me. “I have a driver outside.” There’s a quiet ding and a set of doors slide open.
“Thanks.” I let Rachel enter first before I follow, sagging against the wall with my eyes closed.
“It gets easier to ignore.”
I keep my eyes closed. “What gets easier to ignore, Rachel?”
“The lies, the stories, the made up crap… it’s meant to sell magazines or to sell you. It’s not personal. You’re a product, a commodity. Eventually you’ll stop caring.”
The lift stops on the ground floor. I don’t say anything until we’re settled in the back seat of a comfortable sedan, shrouded by darkness. My features are carefully blank, more out of habit than anything else since Rachel certainly can’t see my face.
“Rachel, let me be perfectly cl
ear.” I let the calm, even, yet very threatening tone of my voice say more than my actual words. “Anything, and I mean bloody anything, that upsets Kate isn’t something I’ll ever stop caring about. Do you understand me?”
“Yeah, Dax. I understand. Unfortunately, the media doesn’t.”
“Then they can fucking deal with me.”
I leave it at that, too tired to think anymore tonight.
Kate
“Kate!” I cringe at the sound of my name, worried that the media bloodhounds have found me again. Footsteps pound the ground behind me and as much as I don’t want to face them again, I can’t let them sneak up on me. I turn around and exhale in relief.
“Bloody hell, Jenna!” It’s only my teammate and soon to be kicked to death midfielder. “You scared me!”
“Sorry, Kate. So, is it true?” She slings a friendly arm around my shoulders. I know she doesn’t understand that I don’t want to talk about Dax. That doesn’t stop the urge to tell her and everyone else on earth to piss off from catching in my throat.
Sighing, I gently extract myself from her embrace, using the excuse of opening the athletic center doors. “I’m not discussing it, Jenna. I’m sorry, but it’s not something I talk about.”
“What?” she shrieks. “You’re dating Dax from Sphere of Irony and you don’t want to talk about it? Hell, I’d be wearing a t-shirt or take out an ad describing everything I’ve done to his hot body! Yummy!”
I must be scowling, because Jenna’s eyes widen and her mouth drops. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way, Kate. You should be proud if it’s true, that’s all.”
At least Jenna left out the bit where I’m too homely and poor for someone as perfect as Dax.
We reach the locker room and I hesitate, not wanting everyone else to overhear and think they’re welcome to join the conversation. “That’s the problem, Jenna. I’m a real person. Dax is a real person. He’s not an object to brag about. I have actual feelings that shouldn’t be laid out just to be trod upon by everyone and anyone.”