Break
Page 24
“I need to help him,” he roared at me.
Brandon leapt over the seats and grabbed Luke’s arm. “Mate, listen. You can’t help him. You’ll get the piss beaten out of you.”
“Luke,” I screamed when he turned back towards the cop. “Don’t be stupid. You’ll get killed.”
A line of policemen moved down the stands with riot gear. I pointed towards them. “Look, help’s on its way. Let’s go.”
The entire situation blew up from a pack of rowdy fans to an all out riot within only a few minutes. I grabbed my purse and climbed over the seats as Luke came to his senses. Several of the rabid fans were already backing away from the police. Bleeding profusely from his nose, the policeman resurfaced and unhooked his baton swinging from his hip. Luke’s arm curled around my shoulder as we swept up the stands, desperate to get away. All around us, people were fighting and yelling—there was confusion everywhere. I saw several West Ham fans ganging up on a Tottenham supporter with broken, sharp pieces of plastic in their hands.
Luke broke away from me and pulled off a man beating on a crumpled Tottenham fan lying down under the seats. They grappled with each other and suddenly fists were flying. Bright camera flashes suddenly burned my eyeballs and I glanced towards them, horrified at the group of photographers clicking away. I turned around and tried to block the scene and screamed as Luke’s face whipped back with a fierce blow. Suddenly, Brandon jumped into the fray and pulled him off Luke. I slipped off my heels and held one in my hand as a weapon, ready to stab anyone who attacked me with the pointed stiletto.
His shirt was ripped and he was bleeding from his mouth. He winced at the bright flashes and held his arm over his eyes.
His lips moved to form one word as his eyes widened.
“Fuck.”
Chapter 7
“Well, you can’t say it wasn’t an interesting match,” said Brandon. His cheery voice echoed hollowly in Luke’s hotel suite.
Luke smoldered on the couch, glaring moodily at Brandon. “We didn’t even get to half-time. The tickets were two hundred pounds each.”
Holy crap. All that money wasted. I sat next to him and stroked his arm. “Yeah, thanks for bringing me to the football game,” I said in a dry voice. “I mean, now I can say that I’ve been to one. I’ll never forget the experience.”
For a moment, Brandon’s eyes met mine and he looked like he wanted to laugh, but he quickly looked away.
“You don’t have to be so sarcastic,” Luke said, glowering at me. He suddenly covered his eyes with one hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “They took photos of me fighting. I can’t wait to see the headlines.”
Suddenly, I remembered what it was that we were doing and that his father would almost certainly see photos of Luke fighting with the West Ham fan. I sobered instantly and squeezed Luke’s hand.
“Alright, well, I’ll let you get patched up and maybe later we can meet up.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
I stood up and took Brandon’s hand. I wished that he would stop looking at me with that calculating look. “See you later.”
“It was lovely meeting you.”
He gave me a swift smile and then he swept from the room. I didn’t move until I heard the elevator door chime.
My bare feet turned on the slick marble floor and I gazed around at the stunning suite. I had to suppress a wide grin as I took it all in. We might’ve hit a snag at the football match, but so what? It was the most exciting day of my life. All day I walked around sightseeing and I was having the best time of my life, but Luke wasn’t.
“I’m glad that you think this is funny,” he said in a dour voice.
My face fell as I noticed his face flushed with humiliation and anger. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m just really happy here. I really want to thank you so much for everything.”
He didn’t say anything, but his eyes softened slightly.
I rejoined Luke on the white leather couch. He was still holding the icepack on his face. His hand was white with cold and a wave of sympathy rippled through me.
“Here, let me take it,” I said, placing my hand on his icepack. The goose bumps on my arm were raised as I inched closer to him. Our faces were close and he was looking at me with his hard, blue eyes that always made me feel vulnerable. “Your friend doesn’t seem to like me very much.”
“He’s just suspicious. Usually the girls I’m with are gold diggers.”
That took me aback. “Do I look like a gold digger?”
His shoulder shrugged under my hand. “No. You don’t act like one, either. That’s probably why he’s confused.”
“He’s going to figure this out. He’s going to realize it’s all a sham.” There was a sharp, painful feeling in my chest as I said it. None of this felt fake. I looked at his face, trying to register his feelings. I wanted him to say something.
Before I could stop myself, my hand flew to his hair and I began to brush the dark strands off his forehead. He closed his eyes and sighed, his neck craning over the couch as his shoulder sagged. “I’m worried about my father. He’s going to get the wrong idea from those photos because I used to get into fights at football matches.”
The fact that poised, dignified Luke would do something so pedestrian made me want to laugh. The two images clashed horribly. It didn’t make sense. It was like seeing the Queen of England throwing back a pint at a dive bar. “Maybe you should call him now and explain it all before it’s in the papers.”
Luke made a dissenting sound. “It’ll just make it worse if I bring attention to it.” His eyes opened and blazed with intensity. “I don’t have to explain myself to him.”
I just kept stroking his hair, dragging my fingertips across his scalp. “I’m going to take the icepack off for a few minutes.” I set the icepack on the coffee table and smiled at Luke’s grumpy expression. I leaned in slightly, my hair falling like a curtain between our faces as I gave him a kiss on his frozen cheek. His skin was so cold that it burned my lips. The blue eyes watched me carefully as I leaned back and resumed my stroking of his hair.
“Why are you doing this?” His voice was as cold as his skin.
“You know, not everyone has an ulterior motive revolving around screwing you over.”
“Not in my world.” He shook his head. “Do you know how rare it is for someone to approach me without expecting something in return?”
Brandon leapt over the seats and grabbed Luke’s arm. “Mate, listen. You can’t help him. You’ll get the piss beaten out of you.”
“Luke,” I screamed when he turned back towards the cop. “Don’t be stupid. You’ll get killed.”
A line of policemen moved down the stands with riot gear. I pointed towards them. “Look, help’s on its way. Let’s go.”
The entire situation blew up from a pack of rowdy fans to an all out riot within only a few minutes. I grabbed my purse and climbed over the seats as Luke came to his senses. Several of the rabid fans were already backing away from the police. Bleeding profusely from his nose, the policeman resurfaced and unhooked his baton swinging from his hip. Luke’s arm curled around my shoulder as we swept up the stands, desperate to get away. All around us, people were fighting and yelling—there was confusion everywhere. I saw several West Ham fans ganging up on a Tottenham supporter with broken, sharp pieces of plastic in their hands.
Luke broke away from me and pulled off a man beating on a crumpled Tottenham fan lying down under the seats. They grappled with each other and suddenly fists were flying. Bright camera flashes suddenly burned my eyeballs and I glanced towards them, horrified at the group of photographers clicking away. I turned around and tried to block the scene and screamed as Luke’s face whipped back with a fierce blow. Suddenly, Brandon jumped into the fray and pulled him off Luke. I slipped off my heels and held one in my hand as a weapon, ready to stab anyone who attacked me with the pointed stiletto.
His shirt was ripped and he was bleeding from his mouth. He winced at the bright flashes and held his arm over his eyes.
His lips moved to form one word as his eyes widened.
“Fuck.”
Chapter 7
“Well, you can’t say it wasn’t an interesting match,” said Brandon. His cheery voice echoed hollowly in Luke’s hotel suite.
Luke smoldered on the couch, glaring moodily at Brandon. “We didn’t even get to half-time. The tickets were two hundred pounds each.”
Holy crap. All that money wasted. I sat next to him and stroked his arm. “Yeah, thanks for bringing me to the football game,” I said in a dry voice. “I mean, now I can say that I’ve been to one. I’ll never forget the experience.”
For a moment, Brandon’s eyes met mine and he looked like he wanted to laugh, but he quickly looked away.
“You don’t have to be so sarcastic,” Luke said, glowering at me. He suddenly covered his eyes with one hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “They took photos of me fighting. I can’t wait to see the headlines.”
Suddenly, I remembered what it was that we were doing and that his father would almost certainly see photos of Luke fighting with the West Ham fan. I sobered instantly and squeezed Luke’s hand.
“Alright, well, I’ll let you get patched up and maybe later we can meet up.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
I stood up and took Brandon’s hand. I wished that he would stop looking at me with that calculating look. “See you later.”
“It was lovely meeting you.”
He gave me a swift smile and then he swept from the room. I didn’t move until I heard the elevator door chime.
My bare feet turned on the slick marble floor and I gazed around at the stunning suite. I had to suppress a wide grin as I took it all in. We might’ve hit a snag at the football match, but so what? It was the most exciting day of my life. All day I walked around sightseeing and I was having the best time of my life, but Luke wasn’t.
“I’m glad that you think this is funny,” he said in a dour voice.
My face fell as I noticed his face flushed with humiliation and anger. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m just really happy here. I really want to thank you so much for everything.”
He didn’t say anything, but his eyes softened slightly.
I rejoined Luke on the white leather couch. He was still holding the icepack on his face. His hand was white with cold and a wave of sympathy rippled through me.
“Here, let me take it,” I said, placing my hand on his icepack. The goose bumps on my arm were raised as I inched closer to him. Our faces were close and he was looking at me with his hard, blue eyes that always made me feel vulnerable. “Your friend doesn’t seem to like me very much.”
“He’s just suspicious. Usually the girls I’m with are gold diggers.”
That took me aback. “Do I look like a gold digger?”
His shoulder shrugged under my hand. “No. You don’t act like one, either. That’s probably why he’s confused.”
“He’s going to figure this out. He’s going to realize it’s all a sham.” There was a sharp, painful feeling in my chest as I said it. None of this felt fake. I looked at his face, trying to register his feelings. I wanted him to say something.
Before I could stop myself, my hand flew to his hair and I began to brush the dark strands off his forehead. He closed his eyes and sighed, his neck craning over the couch as his shoulder sagged. “I’m worried about my father. He’s going to get the wrong idea from those photos because I used to get into fights at football matches.”
The fact that poised, dignified Luke would do something so pedestrian made me want to laugh. The two images clashed horribly. It didn’t make sense. It was like seeing the Queen of England throwing back a pint at a dive bar. “Maybe you should call him now and explain it all before it’s in the papers.”
Luke made a dissenting sound. “It’ll just make it worse if I bring attention to it.” His eyes opened and blazed with intensity. “I don’t have to explain myself to him.”
I just kept stroking his hair, dragging my fingertips across his scalp. “I’m going to take the icepack off for a few minutes.” I set the icepack on the coffee table and smiled at Luke’s grumpy expression. I leaned in slightly, my hair falling like a curtain between our faces as I gave him a kiss on his frozen cheek. His skin was so cold that it burned my lips. The blue eyes watched me carefully as I leaned back and resumed my stroking of his hair.
“Why are you doing this?” His voice was as cold as his skin.
“You know, not everyone has an ulterior motive revolving around screwing you over.”
“Not in my world.” He shook his head. “Do you know how rare it is for someone to approach me without expecting something in return?”
