Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance)(75)

A locker room. With a woman. With Grandolf.

The headline reads, PLAYER'S PRINCESS: How the quarterback melted the ice princess's heart! Will she shatter when he learns of his SECRET LOVE AFFAIR WITH PROFESSOR SEXY?

I begin to scream.





Chapter Fifteen





Jason



"You ready, O Captain my Captain?" Akele booms.

Right now, I'm ready for anything. I grab my bag and head down the stairs to join the brothers. Today's game should be a breeze. We'll be playing the Penn College Warblers, who are about as intimidating as they sound. They don't have that whole "ridiculous name and dangerous team" thing the Honey Badgers roll with.

No game is easy, no enemy to be dismissed, but carrying Ana in my heart, I feel like I could lift the world. My blood sings in my veins, and my heart swells with joy for the first time I can really remember. The fact she'll be watching will only make my victory sweeter.

The brothers are praying silently, as they always do before we even leave the house. I leave them to it and drink a small protein shake while I wait. I don't want to take a bad hit and barf all over the field in front of Ana, but I can't go into battle on an empty stomach either.

A knock comes at the door. Coach might have sent one of the assistants down to hurry us up. The brothers rise from their kneeling prayers as I open the door and find Dee standing on my porch.

Her eyes are red and raw, tear marks tracked down her cheeks. I blink a few times and motion the brothers over.

"Dee? What happened? You look—"

She slaps me. Hard. There's a few different levels of woman-slap. This is a category IV. She puts her hips into it like a boxer and pistons on her foot. Her hand hits my face so hard, that after the pain and flash of light, my first thought is that she had to have broken her hand.

"You f*cking disgusting slimeball cunt motherf*cker predatory pig shit horselicker manslut f*ckboy!" she shrieks, throwing herself at me.

Akele drags me back and steps between us. I'm still dazed by the whole thing, trying to figure out what the hell I've done now.

Akele holds his ex-girlfriend by the arm, mostly to keep her from clawing my eyes out. She's out for blood.

"What the hell?" I yell.

"You know exactly what, you f*cking sleaze! How could you do this to her? I was starting to think you actually gave a shit about her, and now I find out about this?"

"What? Dee, you're not making any sense."

"You were f*cking around behind her back the entire time!"

"What? No I wasn't!"

"Then how do you explain this?" she hisses, whipping out her phone.

I reach for it, but Akele grabs it, and his eyes widen. His bushy eyebrows climb up his head and he almost lets go of Dee. He points the phone at me.

Processing the front page of The Royal Exposé takes me a moment. First, I have to figure out what the f*ck The Royal Exposé is. It's a tabloid, apparently. A royal-watcher tabloid. I thought people only cared about the British royals, but apparently not. Ana is front-page news.

So am I.

So is Grandolf, walking out of that f*cking locker room right behind me, looking as smug as the cat that caught the canary.

"Did she see this?" My voice is robotic. It sounds like it's coming from fifty feet away, like someone else said it.

"Of course she f*cking saw it."

"Where is she now?"

"She's gone."

"No she isn't. It's not true, Dee."



Ana



How could he do this to me?

I feel completely numb, like every nerve ending in my body has gone dead. Seated on the edge of my bed, I stare at nothing while Bjorn stands over me with his huge arms folded and my mother's men pack my things into large suitcases. I care not if they leave it all behind; it means nothing to me. I stand and walk a few mechanical steps from the bed while they pack up the sheets and blankets.

It's like watching ants sprawl over a dropped morsel of food. They tear down my life here—such as it was—with such efficiency that I can barely believe it. It's not long before I'm left alone with an outfit lying on the bare bed.

"Dress," Bjorn says harshly.

"Where is Thorlief?"

"Not your concern. The queen commands you return to Jyvaslka at once."

He steps out, at least. I quickly change out of my sleeping clothes and leave them piled on the floor in favor of a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans.

There is no use protesting or struggling. I don't care what happens to me now. My heart is a block of ice. My soul is freezing. Chill water runs in my veins. I can't even cry. I have never been so utterly crushed in all my life as I am right now.

How could he do this to me?

Outside, there is already a car waiting. Mother is true to her word. I take my seat in the back, and the door slams shut with explosive finality. I don't even glance back as they roughly throw my things in the trunk.

No one sits with me. A small motorcade forms, and I'm cut off from my driver by a glass partition. I could lower it, but I prefer the solitude.

When I am finally alone, I allow myself to cry.

A hissing, choked sob explodes from my chest, and I bury my face in my hands, as if I can crush the broken pieces of my happiness back together, but they've splintered along jagged angles and no longer fit.