The Cinderella Arrangement Page 8

“I don’t understand—what happened?”

  Luke’s face pinched with worry. “Well, the defense tripped the Tottenham forward within the goal box, so that’s an automatic red card. They must play one man short the whole game.”

  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 hurled his empty 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 in booze.

  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.”

  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 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 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 him 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 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, 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 toward the police. The policemen jostled to the side, and they yelled into their radios, fear written all over their faces. Then one fan 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.”

  Luke climbed over our seats with a determined look on his face. “I’m going to help him.”

  Brandon looked stunned. “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 toward the cop. “Don’t be stupid. You’ll get killed.”

  A line of policemen moved down the stands with riot gear. I pointed at 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 people were already backing from the police. Bleeding 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 burned my eyeballs, and I glanced toward them, horrified at the group of photographers clicking madly. I turned around and tried to block the scene and screamed as Luke’s face whipped back with a fierce blow. 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 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.”

  7

  “Well, you can’t say it wasn’t an interesting match,” said Brandon. His cheery voice echoed in Luke’s hotel suite.

  Luke smoldered on the couch, glaring 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 I’ve been to one. I’ll never forget the experience.”

  For a moment, Brandon’s gaze met mine, and he looked like he wanted to laugh.

  “You don’t have to be so sarcastic,” Luke said, glowering at me. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “They took photos of me fighting. I can’t wait to see the headlines.”

  I remembered what we were doing and that his father would see pictures of Luke fighting with the West Ham fan. I sobered and squeezed Luke’s hand.

  Brandon stood. “All right, well, I’ll let you get patched up and maybe later we can meet up.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  I took Brandon’s hand. I wished that he would stop looking at me with that calculating look. “See you.”

  “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 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. The sightseeing was great and I was having an amazing time, but Luke wasn’t.

  “I’m glad you think this is funny,” he said in a dour voice.

  My spirits fell as he flushed with humiliation and anger.

  “I’m not laughing at you. I’m just happy.”

  He lifted an eyebrow.

  “I wanted to thank you for everything.”

  He said nothing, but his eyes softened. I rejoined Luke on the white leather couch. He was still holding the icepack. His hand was white with cold and a wave of sympathy rippled through me.

  “Here, let me take it,” I took it from him. The goose bumps on my arm rose 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. “You don’t act like one. That’s probably why he’s confused.”

  “He will figure this out and realize it’s all a sham.” There was a sharp, painful feeling in my chest. 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 brushed the dark strands off his forehead. He closed his eyes and sighed, his neck craning over the couch as his shoulders sagged. “I’m worried about my father. He will get the wrong idea from those photos because I used to get into fights at football matches.”

  That poised, dignified Luke would do something so pedestrian made me want to laugh. The two images clashed horribly. It made little 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.”

  Luke sighed as I stroked his hair, dragging my fingertips across his scalp.

  “I’m going to take it off for a few minutes.” I set the icepack on the coffee table and smiled at Luke’s grumpy expression. My hair fell like a curtain between our faces as I gave him a kiss on his frozen cheek. His skin was so cold it burned my lips. The blue eyes watched me as I leaned back and resumed my stroking of his hair.

  “Why are you doing this?” His voice was as chilly as his skin.

  “You know, not everyone has an ulterior motive revolving around screwing you over.”

  “Not in my world.” He shook his head. “It's rare for someone to approach me without expecting something in return.”

  A dull longing throbbed inside my chest. I would never take advantage of you. “You don’t give people a chance.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Luke, the first night we met you shoved an NDA in my face.”

  He looked bewildered. “So?”

  “If you do that with everyone you meet, you will never trust anyone. Sometimes, you have to take a risk to get what you want.” I spoke more about myself than him. My cheeks heated 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 didn't date. I never had boyfriends. I avoided the whole thing, even though a part of me was desperately lonely. It wasn’t reasonable.” I looked at him. “Just like it’s not sensible to make everyone you know sign an NDA.”

  He sighed and waved me off. “For all I know, this is 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.

  His thigh bumped against my leg as he slid closer and rubbed my back. “They didn’t ruin you, Jess.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Because I spent the whole day with you, didn’t I? You’re funny, low-maintenance, and easy to get along with. Not to mention gorgeous.”

  The grittiness in his voice curled between my legs. Gorgeous. He called me gorgeous.

  “You kept kissing me at every opportunity.”

  I turned my head, feeling Luke’s hot breath on my cheek. “That’s my job.”

  “I wasn’t supposed to want you while we’re alone.”

  The lines are fucking blurred.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  I didn’t want to stop touching him, or for the warmth on my back to disappear. I looked at him. He seized my head, almost forcing his lips over mine. I fell backward onto the couch and gasped as his heavy weight fell over me. I registered nothing but shock.

  Holy crap, what’s happening?

  My heart pounded somewhere in my throat. All I could focus on was the sharp contours of Luke’s body over mine, his mouth devouring every inch of my flesh as he kissed a hot trail down my neck.

  I heard myself murmur a small oath as his lips and tongue brushed hotly over the top of my breast. A small moan ripped through me as he teased the delicate flesh, sending sharp, electrical signals down my spine. I marveled at how strong the response was in my body; it was jarring. My fingers tangled in his dark head, roaming up and down his lean back.

  He let out a small moan as he pulled back, teasing the buttons of my blouse out of their holes one by one. “God, you are incredible.”

  I said nothing. I couldn’t speak—I was confused. Desire and fear were mingling together in a whirlwind of emotion, crashing against my ribcage like an animal clawing to get out.

  I want him, but am I ready for this?

  An impatient voice inside me told me to shut the hell up.

  His face had that drowsy look, infused with lust. I sat up and allowed my shirt to roll off my shoulders. Every sound was amplified as it dropped to the ground with a harsh whisper. I felt the bulge of his cock vivid against my thigh. The roar of my blood pounding in my ears was deafening. I wanted his hands all over my naked flesh. My imagination took his hands moving inside the waistband of my jeans and forced them to curve into my wetness. My stomach trembled. Oh God, I wanted this. My legs moved on either side of his waist.

  He groaned and leaned forward, his lips kissing at my breast and his fingers scraping my shoulders, the thin bra straps falling down my arms. With every kiss, I was being healed. It was as though Luke was reaching inside my core and mending my pieces back together.

  Why did I wait this long? This feels so good.

  “Dammit,” he hissed as pulled back from me as though he burned. “This isn’t right.”

  It was like falling into an ice bath, and the wonderful, euphoric feeling dissipated like gas. “What?”

  His face was hot and bothered, his lips still swollen. He held me in his hands and stroked my cheek. “I really want to, Jessica. But it’s not right. You’re an employee.”

  “To hell with that! I want this, too.”

  He shook his head and moved away from me. I think he wanted to distance himself as much as possible.

  He leapt up from the couch, terrified by how close he had come to losing control. Luke dashed out of sight and I was left with the searing heat of his hands all over my flesh, slowly fading away.

  LUKE PARDINI CAUGHT IN FOOTBALL MATCH BRAWL

  Under the bold headline was a rather impressive photo of Luke clocking the West Ham supporter with a terrific right hook.

  Years of boozing finally seems to be catching up to young Luke Pardini, as he was caught fighting a West Ham supporter earlier today at Boleyn Ground.

  Not wanting to read anymore, I set down Brandon’s smart phone. Luke leaned back into his chair and his cheeks filled with air, looking like he was past caring about anything at all. A small bruise bloomed on his cheek, but I covered most of the damage using my makeup.

  I didn’t forget about what happened earlier. I could barely pay attention to the conversation; my mind kept obsessing over how amazing Luke’s tongue was like dancing on my skin and how close we had come toward steamy sex. I felt my chest burn in the same area where his lips had touched my breast. I clenched my fists under the table.

  Luke gave no impression he was thinking of the same thing. He raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Whatever happens, happens,” he said as the server set down three dripping mugs of cider in front of us.

  “Cheers,” Brandon said to the waiter. He swiveled his concerned gaze to Luke, who picked up his mug and gulped it down.

  I looked down at the golden liquid and took a sip. It was crisp and light, like apple juice but not as sweet, with a slight kick of alcohol.

  This will go great with the pie.

  We were in a tavern in London that made great savory pies. This was one of Luke’s favorite spots to eat in London, and that Brandon was on a mission to cheer him up.

  It’s time to change tack. “How did you two become friends?”

  A slow smile spread across Brandon’s face. “Well, we went to the same boarding school. We were in the same year and both of us had an affinity for Pokémon cards. We used to play all the time.”

  I snorted into my cider and even Luke smiled apologetically. “That’s so weird. I did the same thing with my best friend, Natalie. We didn’t have the cards though. We played on our Gameboys.”

  “There was also Dungeons and Dragons.”

  This time, I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. “Oh my God. That’s so nerdy.” I gave Luke a playful swat on his leg. “This is the juicy gossip I would expect on a tabloid. It’s a lot more shocking than reading about you punching out someone. Dungeons and Dragons!”

  H
e gave me a thin smile and zeroed in on me. “How did you both meet?”

  My insides froze as I tried not to glance at Luke. Well, shit. We had never come up with a rehearsed plan and my brain worked, trying to think of a quick, believable lie. Fuck!

  “It was a support group,” I blurted.

  A stunned silence followed my words and my face radiated heat.

  Oh, God. Why did I say that?

  I clutched Luke’s hand under the table and winced at the force of his fingers wrapped around my palm. I hoped that my utter fear would be seen as humiliation from admitting something so private. Luke will kill me.

  Brandon was a gentleman to his core. If he felt any stunned disbelief, he kept it to himself. Nothing showed on his face except polite interest. “That’s really, well—”

  “Yeah,” I said too quickly. “We talked, and we realized that we had so much in common.” I gave Luke a quick glance. He wore an expression appropriate to being clubbed over the head. “I’m sorry, baby. I know you like to keep these things private, but I figured that since Brandon was an old friend, it would be fine.”

  “It's okay,” he said in a voice that implied otherwise.

  I grimaced at Brandon, who almost looked sorry for me. “I don’t know what to tell people when they ask, you know? I’m a normal person from the Bay Area. Lots of people look at me and him and they don’t really get it.”

  Luke stood up and my hand slipped from his grasp. He gave me one look of extreme disapproval before announcing that he was going to the loo.

  “Oh, shit,” I whispered as Luke stormed from the table and I hid myself in my hands. “He'll be so mad at me.”

  Brandon patted me on the back, but when I looked up his face was full of sympathy for me. The pain twisting my guts loosened.

  “Luke’s a private person, but I’m glad he’s going to this support group with you. He needs it. Don’t tell him I said that,” he added.

  “No, of course not.” Guilt squirmed inside me. Even his friends could see how his father was tormenting him.

  “He’s always been my best mate, but he’s never been very happy. It’s hard when you have a dad like his.”