Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance)(40)

I don't spare her a single glance. I walk past to the locker rooms.

After I shower and walk back to the bench in my flip-flops, I stop. I hear feet scuffing on the concrete floor.

It's her.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Jason, we need to talk."

"Are you crazy? You can get fired for this."

She smiles, not her usual predatory grin but a real, warm smile, almost motherly. She steps close to me and touches my stomach. I back against the lockers.

My arms start to rise, and I freeze. I can't just shove her. She may be a weird, horny college professor that's trying to sleep with me, but she's still a woman. I won't put my hands on a woman, and I won't tolerate anyone who does.

"Please stop touching me."

"Jason, listen to me," she purrs. "That girl is going to hurt you."

"Who?"

"That bi… the princess. Anastasia," she spits the name like a curse. "I know her type. Stuck-up, cold, and a dead fish in bed. She's not what you need. You don't need a little girl. You need a woman."

"I really don't want to have this conversation."

"Oh, Jason." She starts rubbing my chest. "I know how hard you have it. You're so closed off, but you need to let someone in. I could be good to you. I'll let you do whatever you want with me. I'll suck your cock right here. You can f*ck me in the ass if you want. Anything, I mean it." She flutters her eyelashes. "I'm begging you. I'll ride you after you get too tired to f*ck me. I've seen you looking at my body. I know you want it—"

I take her upper arms in my hands and lift her bodily from the ground. I very carefully set her to the side, grab my bag, and carry it to another part of the locker room.

"Jason—"

"Stay the hell away from me."

I yank on my sweats, pull my shirt on so hard the seams pop, and roughly stuff my gear in my bag.

She grabs my arm as I leave, clinging to me. I finally give her a short, sharp push, on the shoulder.

"Do not touch me. I'm not interested in you. At all."

She whimpers, standing there, and her lip trembles. A tear slides down her cheek.

Oh great, now I feel like shit.

"I have feelings for someone else. You just have to accept that."

I storm out of the gym, past a bewildered Melissa, who only just now looks up from her art project.

Outside, I don't give Grandolf a chance to catch up to me. I run, as my grandpa once said, like a motherf*cker.



Ana



When I finally have a moment to myself, I sit down at the computer and buzz Konstantin for a video chat. The call goes through after a minute, and his haggard face fills my screen. It's late at night back home, and I clearly woke him up. He yawns and brushes his fingers through his silver-blond hair, and takes a swig of water. He smacks his lips, loudly.

I run over and make sure the door is locked and hunch forward, speaking in a low voice.

"Brother," I choke out.

"Ana," he says, too loudly.

I turn down the volume.

"You seem upset?"

I chew my lip. "Jason came to the house last night. He came here."

"Oh did he?" Konstantin says, his tired face suddenly lightning up. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"It wasn't like that… yes. We didn't… I mean I did but he…."

I hug myself.

"Sister, you're beet-red. You needn't share the details. I can gather enough. So he, shall we say, took care of you?"

I nod.

"Good, I daresay you needed it. I'd think you'd be more relaxed."

"Relaxed?" I snap. "Konstantin, he wants me to date him. Be his woman. Whatever you want to call it."

"Good! You should."

"I can't!"

"You must."

I clench my fists and smack my thighs. "Konstantin, I can't. If Mother finds out…."

"Mother won't find out."

Exasperated, I run my fingers through my hair. I want to yank on it.

"There are newspaper people following me around taking pictures of my butt all the time!"

"I know. I've seen the fan pages."

"Fan pages?"

"Here, I'll send you a URL."

I click on the website, and it pops up in another window. The biggest picture, filling my screen, is a zoom-lens photo of my buttocks in stretch pants, midstride. My face turns redder and redder as I scroll down.

There is an entire website devoted to my ass.

I move Konstantin's window to the side of the screen and buzz Dee.

She answers in text.



Dee: Can't video chat now, in class.



I grit my teeth.



Anastasia: Did you know there was a website about my ass?



Dee: A website? Honey there's like a whole network of sites about you. Don't look at the one about your feet.



"Konstantin, did you know there's a website about my feet?"

He sighs. "You know, it's not like I go around actively looking at sexy pictures of my sister. For the record. Yes, I knew about it."

"Why didn't you tell me?"