Risky Play (Red Card #1)(69)

“No.” I held up my hand. “Hell. No.”

Jagger actually coughed behind his hand like he was covering a laugh, which couldn’t be right.

Matt flipped over his phone to record, and pointed to the seats.

“Britney, you’re aware you aren’t allowed to speak to the press about Slade in any way, shape, or form, correct?” Matt asked in a dry tone.

She reached for my hand.

I jerked it back.

Jagger stared straight ahead like he’d rather be burning in hell than sitting in my house. Get in fucking line.

She tilted her head and gave Matt a soft, conniving smile. “I would never go to the press about Slade. I signed an NDA.”

NDA—I hated that term.

“Besides,” she added, “doesn’t he have other things to worry about, like Jagger stealing his new girlfriend?”

Jagger crossed his arms. “What the hell happened to you?”

“She’s always been like this,” Matt ground out. “You two were just thinking with your dicks.”

Britney glared. “Shut up, Matt. You’re just jealous because you never went pro like they did.”

“No, I just think before I stick my prick into a conniving, money-hungry witch. Take that to the press, you psycho.”

Jagger ran his hands down his face.

I rubbed my temples with my hands. “If you didn’t say anything to the press about us, if you didn’t give them those pictures that have been leaked all over the universe, who did?” I wondered out loud. “And why the hell would you say the pregnancy and cheating scandal was a publicity stunt? Cheating should never be a publicity stunt, and you know none of it’s true. Matt’s right, you’ve lost it.”

She just grinned. “Hawk’s out of the picture, I’m your ex-girlfriend. It’s the best story ever, you take me back, we raise our baby, and we all live happily ever after.”

“Should we invite Jagger in on that too? Maybe let Matt play godfather?” I narrowed my eyes at her. How could I have ever thought she was anything but a vapid, insecure girl with dollar signs in her eyes? She didn’t even blink, just lifted her chin like she somehow deserved to be sitting at that table when she’d done nothing but try to break it apart with her bare hands.

The sound of the gate buzzing open alerted me to another visitor. Great.

I groaned into my hands.

Again.

“It’s Mack,” Matt said in a low voice.

Jagger stood so fast his chair flipped backward.

I stared up at him. I felt my entire face pale. I was bringing her into this, my fault. She wanted out of the press and now they were painting her as the woman who came between me and my pregnant ex-fiancée.

Fantastic.

It wasn’t true. But the media didn’t care. It sold stories, it got ratings, and right now the fact that Mack was left at the altar only to run away with soccer’s newest bad boy . . . the entire story was like an expensive all-you-can-eat buffet.

“Let her in,” I whispered.

Matt hit the comm.

I counted the seconds until she parked.

Until she was walking up the stairs like she used to.

Alfie ran to the door.

She greeted him first.

“I always knew I liked that dog,” Jagger said to no one in particular.

I gave him a look of disgust.

He gave me a look of pity.

I hung my head in my hands as Mack rounded the corner. “Hey, guys, what’s—”

Her eyes fell to Britney.

She would recognize her from the pictures.

And if her face didn’t give it away, the belly sure would.

“What’s going on?” Her voice shook.

I wanted to wrap her in my arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. I stood, ready to do exactly that, when Britney piped up. “She signed an NDA, like everyone in your circle, right?”

“What?” Mack’s voice was small. “What are you talking about? Why does it matter?”

My gut twisted as I looked between Britney and Mack.

Britney looked triumphant.

Mack looked ready to hurl.

“Look,” Britney said in an innocent voice, “all I’m saying is Matt and I have ironclad NDAs, Jagger has an ironclad NDA—and this bitch—”

“Watch it,” I growled.

“This strange woman”—Britney rolled her eyes—“better have an NDA too. Otherwise, she’s the one that leaked something to the press. Easy. She wants attention.”

“Easy?” Mack repeated. “How the hell is that easy? I would never do that to Slade, and why would I? I don’t need the money, unlike some people!” Mack countered the attack without hesitation.

Attagirl.

I almost cheered for her out loud.

Britney leaned back. “I’m not saying you did anything for money, it just seems suspicious. I mean your motives are your own . . . right, Matt?”

Matt bit out a curse. “Slade, did Mack ever sign anything in reference to Mexico or . . . personal matters?”

“No.” I licked my lips. “But I never even told her about me and Britney, about the whole fucked-up love triangle with Jagger. I haven’t said a word. I should have.” Mack was white as a ghost. “I should have but—”