Player(7)

Fortunately, my parents’ place was right between the stations, so rather than take the train back a stop, I climbed the stairs, stowing my notebook in my bag as I stepped into the crisp fall afternoon, heading west, toward the park.

It was always quieter on this side of the city, with Central Park on one side and a stack of old buildings on the other. Trees stretched up, obscuring the sky in sheets of gold, fiery oranges and brassy reds, dropping occasional leaves bigger than my hand. Soon the trees would be bones, asleep for the winter. The thought made me preternaturally sad.

My lungs filled with cool air when I sighed.

I thought forward through my day, from the visit with my parents to the pit tonight where I’d see Val.

A bet. On the last girl I would have chosen.

Not because I didn’t want her. With that smile, that body? If I’d met her anywhere but work, I’d have asked her out already. But girls like her weren’t meant for guys like me. I went after the girls who knew exactly what they were getting and exactly what they weren’t. The girls I couldn’t hurt. Wouldn’t hurt with my disinterest in a relationship.

A girl like Val needed a guy she could take home to meet her parents. A guy who’d buy her flowers and binge-watch Jane Austen movies. A guy who’d treat her right.

Like I’d said, I knew what I was and what I wasn’t. And I wasn’t boyfriend material. One-night material? Hundred percent. Weekend material? I was here for that.

Anything beyond that, and I’d only let her down.

And now I had to pretend to date her for a month.

Fucking Ian.

I couldn’t figure out his angle. Val wasn’t his type. He was much more prone to girls who nibbled salad at dinner and laughed at all his stupid jokes. But he’d known me long enough to pick up on my attraction and wanted to push me, get me to step out of line, betray my own code.

And I’d known him long enough to know he’d go after her just to prove his point.

We always did this, though the stakes hadn’t been this high in a while. I’d tug on his leash, and in turn, he’d test my fences like a velociraptor.

I’d taken the bet, and my objective was clear.

Goal number one: protect her from Ian.

Goal number two: protect her from me.

There had to be a way to keep her away from Ian without leading her on, and I intended to find it. So my plan, which wasn’t so much of a plan as it was an action point, was to ask her to come to the club where I played and wing it once she got there.

Things would work out. Something would land in my lap. It always did.

It crossed my mind that she might say no. But the signals she’d sent were received, loud and clear. The flush in her cheeks, her lingering gaze, the near-constant tripping she did around me. She was interested.

I was an arrogant prick to assume. But I just so happened to be a professional player, and reading women was at the top of my résumé. Val wanted me, plain and simple. But I had yet to figure out the context of her attraction. What exactly did she want from me? Something temporary or permanent?

Because if she was looking for a boyfriend, goal number two was fucked.

First things first. There was a way out, I knew. I just had to figure out what that was.

The club would be the perfect place to start.

I smiled to myself at the rightness of it all. I’d swing her around the dance floor. Make her laugh and make her happy. I’d fill myself up on those sweet smiles and her joy. And I’d find a way out of this bet with her virtue and my integrity intact.

My smile widened, my tongue slipping out to draw my bottom lip into my mouth. Ian was right about one thing—innocent girls had their appeal.

I suspected he was right about more than just that when it came to Val. That she couldn’t smell the danger all over me was the first clue to her inexperience. And when it came to girls like her, there was one of two ways you could take it.

You could be the guy to worship her, or you could be the guy to ruin her with lies.

Case in point, Ian would wreck a girl like Val, show her the ugly side of the world, of love, of men. And I’d only seek to make her happy. I’d show her things she’d only read about. I’d make her world better, not ruin it.

Yeah, you’re so fucking noble, Sam. A regular old Casanova.

A small laugh huffed out of my nose as I reached my parents’ building. The doorman waved me inside and deposited me into the gilded elevator before sending me up to one of the penthouse floors my parents occupied.

The foyer to their floor was a marble affair, rich without being pretentious, which was a feat for any Fifth Avenue penthouse. Within seconds of knocking, the door swung open to reveal my mother, smiling brightly. I barely had time to brace myself before she flew into my arms.

“Oh, Samhir,” she cooed in Lebanese, leaning back to look at me as if she hadn’t seen me in a year. “It has been too long.”

I laughed. “I missed you, too.”

“Why do I feel like you look older? It has only been a month.”

“I don’t know, Mama. You only look younger every day.”

It wasn’t a lie. Her hair was the color of midnight, pulled back in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, her body slender and small. Her skin was smooth, the only sign of her age the wrinkles at the corners of her dark eyes, forced in place by the high, round apples of her cheeks when she smiled, which was often.