Not My Romeo (The Game Changers #1)(85)

My body tightens as she sashays away, a clever smile on her lips. She breezes out the door and out of my life forever, and I swallow thickly. Relief and victory are mine. So why do I feel like something just went horribly wrong? A heaviness settles on my chest, like a boulder that I can’t push off.

What did she mean about Elena? What kind of betrayal was she insinuating? Did she mean the lingerie or something more sinister?

Don’t trust her, I say in my head, and it plays over and over.

I freeze, shaking myself.

Wait. Who am I thinking about not trusting—Sophia or Elena?

I can trust Elena.

Right?



After talking briefly to Lawrence and my attorney, I get in my car, my mind churning, trying to figure out what Sophia was getting at.

She isn’t who she says she is.

A text comes in. Elena. I let out a sigh of relief, needing a distraction from the emotional roller coaster that is Sophia.

You all done?

Yeah. All over. So glad.

Great.

I stare at her words.

Things haven’t been easy between us these past few days, and part of it was Sophia, and the other part was . . . me.

Maybe I need to take a breath and reassess.

Don’t trust her, she said.

But . . .

Fuck.

I want . . .

Elena.

You’ll never commit to her either, a small voice murmurs in my head, and once she figures it out, she’s going to kick you to the curb so hard, and you might not get up.

Stop.

I lock those thoughts down.

My throat feels dry as I twist the top off a bottle of water in the Porsche and chug it down. I need to see her.

Meet me at the penthouse.

Can’t. I’m at work plus play practice is at seven. Are you coming?

I’ve been so caught up in worry over this meeting that rehearsal was an afterthought.

Right. I’ll head to your house. Meet you there before practice.

Are you okay?

Am I?

I will be when I see you.

I set the phone down and start the car.

After an errand at the hardware store, I’m on the road toward Daisy and playing back Sophia’s words.

Is there something in Elena’s past she hasn’t told me?

No. I toss that idea out.

Still . . .

My teeth grit. A seed of doubt is building and growing inside me, snaking around my . . . heart.

Feeling anxious and harried, I park my car in her driveway and jog up to her door, knocking briefly and going inside. I’ve spent the last two nights here. We’ve spent long hours in her bed, talking and making love. I’ve never been this . . . desperate for a girl. I’ve given her more than I have anyone. No NDA. No holding back about who I really am. She knows about my shoulder. Fear snakes over me, and I shove it down.

I stalk in, feeling off, sweeping the room.

“In the bedroom,” she calls, and I walk down the hall and open her cracked door.

She’s standing at the foot of the bed. Hot as hell. Black lace thong is on her ass, a lace bra hugging her breasts. I shut the door firmly, wondering where Topher is. Probably upstairs.

Focus, man.

She looks at me. “You look weird.”

“Do I?”

She nods and walks over to me.

I want things to be okay.

I want this thing we have.

But on my terms . . .

And I wonder how long that’s going to last?

Shit.

What am I doing with Elena? I’m going to hurt her just like I did Sophia.

Never hurt her!

I inhale sharply—shit—trying to regroup and focusing on her as she takes my jacket off, sniffs it, and gags. “Gross. I do not like this perfume.”

Sophia picked it out, and it wasn’t my favorite, either, but I keep my mouth shut, knowing better than to bring her up right now.

Elena tilts her head up at me, a fierce look on her face. “We are not going to discuss her. It’s done. Now take that suit off. I’m wiping your memory like a Jedi mind trick. Elena is the only girl you want to see at Milano’s,” she says, waving her hands in front of my face.

A laugh comes from me, rough and unsure. “Have you been standing in that pose waiting for me to come in?”

“You bet. All planned.”

“Vixen.”

“I was giving you five more minutes, and I was going to pull out the vibrator.”

“Liar.”

She cranks up Taylor Swift as I quickly unbutton my shirt, tugging it out of my pants and tossing it aside. My pants are next. Socks gone. She hates socks on me.

She turns and jumps in my arms, her legs locked around my hips. “Let’s do this. Nice and fast before we’re star-crossed lovers.”

Finally. She is in my arms, and I didn’t even realize how much I needed it. I put my head in her neck, inhaling, all of my territorial instincts roaring to the surface. She’s mine . . .

I groan and carry her over to the end of her bed, splaying her down as I hover over her.

Ask her.

“Elena?”

“Hmm?” She smiles up at me.

“Is there anything you need to tell me?”

She stills, holding my gaze. “Like what?”

It feels so wrong to even question her. It’s . . . Elena. She’s sweet and good and kind.