Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
I’ve explained all this to my mother multiple times. I’ve explained each and every situation to her, but she always says that it’s my fault. That I shouldn’t have smiled or flirted or batted my eyelashes. She thinks it’s a girl’s responsibility to keep guys in check. And girls who are irresponsible like me are sluts.
“Not when the whole world is watching, Isadora,” she adds, coming closer and grabbing my elbow. “Is that clear?”
I jump. “Yes.”
She digs her nails into my skin and insists, “Not when every eye is already upon you.”
I gasp at the pain. “I won’t…”
But my mom isn’t happy with that.
She pinches my flesh, her eyes harsh. “Not when you’re so tied to the team.”
Tears sting my eyes then.
From the pain. The burn.
From the way my heart’s pounding in my chest. “I’m not… I won’t do anything.”
“You’d better not,” Mom says. “I mean it, Isadora. I won’t have you embarrassing this family. Especially when the season’s starting and everyone’s watching the team. Everyone’s talking about us. And if we end up in the media for anything other than the team winning the championship for the second year in a row, I’ll make you regret it. Is that very”—she twists my flesh—“very clear?”
I can’t stop my grimace then.
I can’t stop myself from squirming and trying to get away from her.
“Mom, you—”
She doesn’t let up, though. “Answer me, Isadora.”
A lone tear slides down my cheek. “Y-yes. I won’t do anything. I won’t screw up. I won’t embarrass you or D-dad.”
She grits her teeth, studying me, probably trying to figure out if I’m telling the truth. “Good. Now go clean yourself up and find your table.”
So I do that.
I escape.
I go clean myself up, wipe my tear off, freshen up my lipstick. Then I go find my table.
I’m seated with other players and their wives and girlfriends. And even though my conversation with my mother has put a damper on my spirits and my skin burns where she pinched me, I’m still happy to see them.
There’s Tempest Thorne, wife of one of the players Ledger Thorne; Bronwyn Littleton, girlfriend to Conrad Thorne, the team’s head coach; and Meadow Brooks, Riot Rivera’s—another one of the players—fiancée. And they’re all friendly and warm, and immediately draw me into a conversation after their initial greetings. Apparently, they’re all talking about the last time they had sex.
“You’re kidding,” Bronwyn, or Wyn, says to Tempest, her eyes wide.
“Nope,” she answers, an impish grin gracing her lips.
Meadow addresses Tempest as well. “Here? You”—she lowers her voice—“did it here?”
Tempest takes a sip of her drink and nods.
“At the event?” Meadow keeps going.
“That’s what I’m saying.” Then, “Hey, listen, okay. I have not one but two six-month-olds. Twins. And they both have a killer radar. They somehow always know when Mommy and Daddy are getting busy. So we need to get creative.” She takes another sip of her drink. “Mommy wants a large family and Daddy has promised to give her everything she wants. Besides, Mommy always has a hard time keeping her hands off Daddy.”
She looks over at the daddy then.
With wild dark hair that curls at the ends and cascades over his brows in a fringe, and a face that seems carved from stone with the most beautiful angles, Ledger has to be one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen in my life. And his handsomeness only increases by the fact that every few seconds or so, his eyes find ways to stray over to his wife even though he’s engaged in a passionate discussion. It makes me feel like he wants to make sure that Tempest is still there.
Or that she is safe.
Or maybe both.
It’s very sweet.
“Where?” Wyn asks, fascinated.
“Why, you want suggestions?” Tempest smirks.
Wyn blushes. “I mean, kind of.”
At this, I chime in, “No way.”
Wyn turns to me. “Why not?”
Now I lower my voice and all the girls lean in. “I don’t think your man would go for something like that.”
At this, Tempest bursts out laughing, causing Wyn to swat her arm.
While Meadow and I simply look at each other in confusion. Then Meadow goes, “I think Isadora’s right.”
I nod. “I mean, look at him. He looks so controlled and professional.”
We all do.
Conrad Thorne.
Along with being the head coach of New York City FC and Wyn’s boyfriend, he also happens to be Ledger’s oldest brother. When I first heard that, though, it was a big surprise. Because they look nothing alike.
On the outside, I mean.
If Ledger has dark hair and dark eyes, Conrad has dirty-blond hair and navy blue eyes. While Ledger, also known as the Angry Thorn—his soccer nickname—perpetually looks thrumming with a violent energy that he can unleash at any second, Coach Thorne is more reserved. I’m not fool enough to think he’s a cool guy with zero temper issues, but where others may resort to violence, Conrad Thorne appears as if he will wither you away with just one look.