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)
See? He’s still trying to protect me.
“You’re new,” I say instead. “You have to be. Because I’ve never seen you before. I would’ve remembered if I had. And since this party is full of soccer people, you have something to do with…”
It finally occurs to me then.
I know who he is.
The man I’ve become obsessed with in such a short amount of time is someone everyone’s talking about.
“You’re Wrecking Thorn,” I say, awe clear in my voice. “You’re the legendary Wrecking Thorn. Shepard Thorne. Aren’t you? Why didn’t you tell me? You’re a god or something. People can’t stop talking about you. My dad, my mom, everyone. They all think you’re going to change the fate of the team. You’re going to bring back the glory days. You’re the hottest soccer player of the season.” I shake my head, chuckling. “You have to kiss me now so I can brag about it to all my friends.”
When all he does is stare at me, I clarify, “That was a joke, by the way. I don’t have very many friends.” When he still doesn’t laugh, I go, “You can laugh now.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I’m not him.”
I frown. “You—”
“So unfortunately, kissing me won’t give you bragging rights.”
Something in his voice alerts me to take stock of his stance.
To study his face, his demeanor.
And I realize that it’s all tight. His voice, the muscles in his body.
Rigid and aloof.
Somehow, I’ve offended him, I think, made him angry.
“I’m sorry,” I say, taking a step toward him. “I was just—”
“I’m the lesser-known version of him.”
This time before saying something, I think. I weigh his words.
Try to put them together.
And then it hits me.
Who he is.
Shepard isn’t the only man my parents talk about. They also talk about someone else. Someone who’s just as new as Shepard. Someone people call cold.
Oh my God, it was so obvious.
He did tell me who he was, didn’t he?
Earlier.
He’s not a player, though.
He’s the new assistant coach.
“You’re the Cold Thorn. You’re his twin.”
“I am.”
“I didn’t know. I—”
“Well, now you do,” he says, his voice low. “And let me also tell you that if you want to be kissed, then you picked the wrong twin. I don’t go around kissing spoiled little rich girls who can’t take no for an answer. Him, though, he’ll indulge you. He doesn’t have a lot of standards and from what I hear, desperation turns him on. Not me, though. I find desperation annoying. I find little girls like you even more annoying. So you should run along and find him. Maybe he’s your destiny, because I’m absolutely fucking not.”
I do as he says then.
I run along.
And I find him.
His twin brother.
Not because he’s my destiny but because I’m Isadora Agni Holmes and I’m going to melt Stellan ‘The Cold’ Thorne and make him eat his words.
Chapter 2
The Wildfire Thorn
I’m cold.
Or so people call me.
They say I’m a block of ice. They say I’m frozen.
That I’m feelingless, emotionless.
That beneath my chest there’s a heart that doesn’t beat.
It’s because I want them to think that. It’s because there are things inside of me I don’t want anyone to see. Things I don’t want myself to see. So I keep them hidden, buried under six feet of ice. Like people bury their dead.
But that’s not the point.
The point is that I’d much rather be home, smoking my one cigarette of the day in peace while losing myself in the pages of a book. Only for an hour, though. No more.
That’s why my plan was to get in and get out. Show my face enough that they know I was here but mostly stay in the shadows, undisturbed and undiscovered. Much like those things inside of me. Besides, I’m the assistant coach. My team is in attendance; my players are here. So being here is more or less my job and I take my job seriously. Even though I’m not a fan of it.
I’m not a fan of soccer, not like these people here.
Never was. Never will be.
Which suits me just fine.
But anyway.
What I hadn’t planned on was her.
I hadn’t planned on being discovered by her.
Being seen by her.
You’re as hot as wildfire…
No one ever sees me, which again suits me just fine. I want it that way. So I’m not sure how an eighteen-year-old could. How was it that she saw me, found me in the dark?
How was it that I found her interesting?
Her reckless advances. Her endless chatter. How was it that the more unpredictable and whimsical and wilder she became, the more I couldn’t make myself leave?
Maybe because I’m none of those things and she’s the polar opposite of me.
And maybe that’s why I was so harsh with her.
Because I don’t want to find people interesting. I don’t want to be intrigued.
I’ve heard about her, of course. She’s the boss’s daughter; this party’s in her honor. People know who she is. Not to mention, there are rumors. I’ve heard how Mr. Holmes is disapproving of her. And how he needs to be because she’s out of control. She ruins men, lays waste to their careers with her seductive beauty.