The Revenge Pact (Kings of Football #1)(40)

His lashes flutter against his cheeks. “Don’t say it.”

“I-I-I’m so confused—” My hand reaches out.

“Stop! Just…” He clenches his fists. “Get the hell out of this kitchen.”





12





Donovan appears at my side. Kicking down the memory of River, I inhale a cleansing breath and turn to him, a forced smile on my face.

“…are you listening to me, Ana?”

“Sorry, the music is loud.”

“You’re late.”

“I had to work. Like always.”

“You should have asked off. We’re supposed to be celebrating Harvard and your birthday.” Wearing a cream-colored toga, he pats himself then wobbles a bit. “I have your gift—no wait, no pockets. Oops. I left it on the stage.”

He could have given it to me when we met for dinner this week but insisted we wait for tonight to celebrate.

“Are you drunk?” I ask when he sways again. Normally, he’s a moderate drinker.

“What if I am?” he grouses. “You were high.”

And here we go…

“Are we back to this? Already? And I wasn’t judging you, just surprised.”

“Donovan, you’re supposed to announce the costume winners. It’s past time,” comes from River as he appears next to Donovan, never glancing at me. “The DJ will finish up this song then you’re up. I left the list behind the stage for you.” He pauses, studying him. “You okay?”

“Yep! On it,” Donovan replies as he takes a drink from his Solo cup, his eyes peering at me over the rim, an odd look in his gaze. He looks away and punches River in the arm. “She’s hot, right, man?”

I don’t like his tone.

River looks away from us, his mouth tight. “Yeah. Whatever.”

Donovan’s road-map eyes come back to me and rake over me, lingering on my bodice. I resist the urge to tug it up.

“You sure know how to make a man crazy,” he murmurs. “Best I ever had.”

“Donovan!” My lips part as color floods my face. I’m acutely aware of River, his head lowered like he doesn’t hear us.

“What the hell is up with you?” I hiss at Donovan. “I’m going upstairs.”

I flip around and he grabs my arm.

“Wait. Ana. Shit.” He closes his eyes briefly.

“What’s gotten into you?” I snap.

“Ana…my life is falling apart.” Turmoil swirls in his words.

Before I can say anything, he clasps my hand and drags me away from River and toward the stage, tugging me through a throng of dancers as we head over. We bump into several as he plows through, and I keep apologizing to people we jostle.

“I need to do the announcements.” He pulls me up the steps and behind the curtains, which are partly opened for the DJ but still leave about six feet of private area that’s not seen by the partiers. There are electrical cords and music equipment and speakers sitting on the floor. He drops my hand and reaches for one of the wireless mics on a shelf, clips it to the rope around his waist where he’s tied his toga. He squints as he tries to adjust the microphone part, and I take it from his fumbling hands and help him secure it to the top of his shoulder.

“Where are your glasses?” I ask.

“Don’t know,” he slurs as he turns to pat the top shelf.

I sigh. “Are you okay? You said your life is falling apart and—”

“I’m fine,” he mutters. “Or I will be.”

Okaayy. “Why did you bring me back here?”

“It’s where I put your gift!”

“Enough,” I mutter. “I don’t want a gift. I’m going to find the girls. We can talk when you’re sober—”

“Found it!” He flips around and shows me a rectangular black box with a pink bow on it. A jewelry store logo is on the top. He pushes it into my hands.

I slide the bow off, open the box, and take several deep breaths, hoping I’m not seeing— A diamond tennis bracelet inside.

Yep.

I cringe, not even daring to take it out of the box.

“Beautiful, right?”

I’m dimly aware of the music stopping, the DJ announcing a short break, the low hum of voices a few feet away on the other side of the curtain.

“We’ve been together a while. Figured you deserved a great gift.”

“It’s just like Harper’s,” I push out.

“Actually, it’s bigger than hers.”

“I can’t…” ever wear it.

I place it back on the shelf and turn to him. I know what I need to do…

“Donovan, it was never about a gift. Material things don’t matter to me. I was never with you for your money, but since this past summer, we’ve been off—”

His head snaps up. “I’ll tell you what’s jacked up. It’s not that I bought you a gift similar to Harper’s. No, it’s the fact that you were arrested for stealing a car in Manhattan—and other things!”

Grimacing, I draw back at his raised tone.

How does he…

What is going on?

“Who told you that? I was seventeen when that happened and never charged. Are you crazy?” The theft claim was dropped almost immediately, and the details should be private.