Red Card (5 page)

I gave her the cheekiest smile when she scowled at me, but I could see the glint of thanks in her eye. She knew I was right.

“Fine. As my first act as conductor of the Killian Ramsey Machine, you need to march up to the press room and give your answers to the media. Since you’ve been hiding down here like a chicken.”

“Oh no, I won’t be doing that. Those pigs can write their stories about me without some sob story, loser answers.” I pulled on my black winter coat and slammed the locker door shut.

“Only sore losers and bad athletes skip postgame interviews.” She recited this as if it had been ingrained in her brain, making me think she had some experience in this.

“What, were you some sort of sports PR guru back in the States?”

She smiled glumly, her eyes unfocused as if she was calling up a memory. “Something like that.”

A
fter dragging
me to the presser, and making me answer loads of ridiculous questions, I took Leah and Jimmy to my favorite Thai place in Earl's Corner to discuss my upcoming schedule.

The waiter set down my Thai iced tea and I took a drink of the milky, delicious concoction while looking over my glass at Leah. She'd removed her coat, revealing a beige blouse with buttons that came all the way up to her neck and ended in a tied bow. It wasn't anything I'd ever expect her to wear, not after the first time I'd seen her in her American jeans and long sleeve shirt. Neither was that coat now that I'd come to think of it. She transformed into a womanly, feminine creature...much like when she'd slipped into the dress from wardrobe.

Strands of blonde framed her face from where the wind had whipped them out of the sleek knot at her neck, and my fingers were itching to brush them behind her ear and feel the delicate, creamy skin of her jaw and cheeks.

"So, I'll send over Kill's entire schedule, which I've uploaded to my email calendar and I'd suggest you do the same. He's a busy man this one, so you'll have to keep up. If you don't actually kill him first."

Jimmy's joke made Leah giggle, that real, genuine smile coming out again. I found myself wanting to make her do that more.

"Yes, I am a pain in the ass. But damn is that ass good looking." I winked and she cast her eyes down at the menu in embarrassment. She really had to quit it with the shy act, it wasn't deterring me from pursuing her. If anything, it only made me more horny and determined.

The restaurant was bustling, and multiple patrons turned around when they noticed just who was sitting at this table. Even after all of these years, I hadn't gotten used to it. I wanted to live my life the way I wanted, without someone posting my location on Twitter or Instagram. I guaranteed the paps would be outside by the time we'd finished our meal. Bloody hell.

"What would you like?"

I glanced up to see the Taiwanese waitress holding a pad, ready for our order.

"Yes, I'll take the Masaman Curry, please." Jimmy didn't wait for the lady, or even his client, to order. That man's appetite knew no manners.

Looking to me next, she waited. "Suki Hang, please. With a side of Thai egg rolls."

Leah bit her lip as the waitress came to stand next to her. "Um..yes, hi. Do you have just like a side salad? Maybe with ranch dressing?"

What? I'd taken her to one of my favorite, and one of the hippest, Thai restaurants in London. And she wanted a side salad? The waitress also blinked down at her as if she'd heard her incorrectly.

"Are you not hungry?" I directed the question across the table at her, trying to hide my annoyance under a thin veil of control.

She bit her lip again. "Well...I. I've never eaten Thai before..."

Oh. Well, shit. "She'll have the Pad See-Ew. And bring her the side salad as well, but the ginger house dressing."

We folded up our menus as Leah looked at me, her expression unreadable.

"You'll like it. But how have you never had Thai food before? Let me guess, your favorite restaurant is McDonald’s?”

At that remark she finally cracked a smile. "I'm from the land of Oklahoma, where fried chicken, steak and pecan pie are king.”

Her voices twangs just a notch further when she mentions Oklahoma, and I feel that thing in my old, gnarled, hollowed out chest. A twinge of something. It feels like my heart, trying to flick the breaker or resuscitate the until-now useless organ.

"Well, I suppose we'll have to give you the grand eatery tour of London then, won't we Killian?" Jimmy eyes me and Leah happily, and I know he would love to show her all of his favorite pig out spots.

"So, what is on the schedule for the coming weeks?" Leah changed the subject, putting on a no-nonsense expression.

That, right there. That's what I liked about the woman. She was shy and reserved one minute, like a bumbling girl. But then the next minute she was as refined and professional as a princess who'd had her title since birth.

Jimmy's voice broke my thoughts as the waitress brought out our food. I could smell the exotic, savory aromas wafting around the table, and until then I hadn't realized how hungry I was.

"Every week Killian has practice Tuesday, Wednesday, half practice on Thursday and half practice on Friday. Unless there is a match any of those days for Champions league, or a special session of practice with the England National Team. He has matches every Saturday or Sunday. Film sessions are usually Wednesday nights, and those can take anywhere from three to six hours. Stuffed in between those are gym workouts with his trainer, signings, managing the cleat line, appearances at premieres or openings and then whatever social life he can manage to have. Which has to be handled as well because the ladies love this one, and they'll do bloody anything to get him."

I tucked into my plate of spicy noodles as Jimmy drolled on, listing out the hundreds of things I needed to do in a week. And then I'd wake up the week after that and do it all over again. Why? I wasn't sure anymore. I suspected it all kept me so busy that I didn't have to think about things until I woke up screaming from nightmares about pools full of blood.

The conversation went on, me focusing on my noodles, until a sound came from across the table.

"Mmmmm ohh..."

I didn't even have to look across the table at her face. I was stiff as a steel pipe just from that breathy little moan that had expelled from her lips.

But I did look up. I had to see the face she was making that accompanied that sound.

Leah's eyes were closed, her long lashes fanning down onto her cheeks. Her cheeks emitted a glow, her pink lips the color of spun cotton candy, tipped up in a content, blissful smile. Her jaw rotated in small, satisfied chews as she tasted the flavor of the noodles on her tongue. Her expression made my cock harden even more, to the point of pain as the zipper of my jeans made a permanent tattoo of itself on my swollen head.

"Good?" I can barely choke out the words staring at her in a total state of rapture.

"This is amazing!" Leah tilts her head in a gesture of thanks, her face still lit up like she's just heard about Santa Claus for this first time.

We eat the rest of our meal, Leah making breathy little noises every once and a while and Jimmy going over my basic day to day. It’s only when the check is finally laid on the table that the first flashbulb goes off through the restaurant's glass storefront.

"Fuck!" I grumble, pulling out my Black Card and urging the waitress to hurry.

"Yes, we've been spotted." Jimmy sighs and begins tapping away on his phone, probably trying to have any media he knows call off their dogs if they have photographers outside. "Actually, Leah, you should do this."

As we sit waiting for the bill to come back, Jimmy gives Leah pointers on dealing with paparazzi and tabloids. She listens intently, soaking everything up and emailing certain people when he tells her to.

Except when we get to the door, it looks like the media swarm has doubled in size, not diminished.

"Is there a back way out of here?" Leah looks frightened as the camera zombies advance on the restaurant.

"No. Bloody hell. We have to get to the curb. I had the valet bring the car around, we just have to get there." Jimmy looks determined, moving in front of Leah as I move in back of her. I guess we are going to try to shield our way through this.

Jimmy throws the door open, and suddenly it’s blinding. Flashes come from every direction, shouting, my name being called over and over and over again. We try to move quickly, but are getting jostled every which way, sandwiched in between these star-crazy sardines. One of them shoves Leah trying to get a good shot of my face and she stumbles, her foot twisting in an unnatural way.

"Ow!" I hear the surprised pain in her voice and look down to where she's tumbled onto all fours.

Without thinking, I brush the hair out of her eyes, connecting our gazes as I palm her cheek. "Are you okay?"

My expression must hold something that mesmerizes her, because dazedly she responds in a small voice. "I think so. Yes."

I slide my arm around her waist, palming it but also holding it firmly. The other hand comes up to rest on her neck as I pull her from the ground. The paps get even crazier at this gesture, practically salivating over my hands on her.

All I can think about is her scent drifting through my senses, warm vanilla sugar and a canopy of giant trees after a thunderstorm. Her pulse beating rapidly against my hand on her neck. Wondering if she felt the same hot and cold sensations running over her body, causing goose bumps and lustful stirrings below the waist.

When we finally made it my Rolls Royce, Jimmy was holding the passenger door open, waiting for Leah to jump in. I threw my body into the driver's seat, leaning over to make sure she got in safely.

"Get her home, Kill. I'll call you later." And then Jimmy left us, strolling down the street like we weren't in the middle of a media circus.

"Buckle up." I didn't look over at her, trying to calm my breathing and my needy cock before putting the car in drive and navigating us through the sea of people.

We didn't speak until I'd wound us out of Earl's Court and onto West Cromwell Road, away from the blinding lights and rabid photographers.

"Are you okay?" I looked over at Leah, who was visibly shaken, but not as frightened as I thought she would be.

She only nodded, her gaze focused on something out the window.

"Leah." My statement was a command. It wasn't optional that she look at me.

Her head turned slowly towards mine, her cheeks ashen and pale, devoid of the glowing color our meal had put there just 10 minutes before.

"Are you okay?"

She flinched, moving her ankle around and touching her heel. "It’s a little swollen. Probably just a bruise. But I broke my roommate’s heel. Damn it, these are probably so expensive..."

The last part was said to herself, and I glanced down to take in the look and texture of the material on her borrowed shoes.

"Where is your apartment?"

Her eyes, the kind of green that blankets Ireland's rolling cliffs, filled with confusion and apprehension. "Why would I tell you that? Just drop me off at the nearest tube station and I’ll be fine to get home.”

I try to hide my smirk, only because she is in some pain, at her naïveté. Even if we hadn't just been basically attacked by fame chasers, I'd still have gotten up to her place somehow. She was foolish in thinking that once she entered my car, there was anywhere else that this night would end up. But I didn't tell her this.

"Um because you're sitting in my car, wounded and alone at night in the middle of a strange city. I’m a gentleman. I’m going to take you home."

“A gentleman, that’s rich.” She scoffed.

“Leah…you have a sore ankle, there are paparazzi probably fresh on our heels, and you have been in this city about two days. You can either tell me where you live, or I can bring you back to my place, where I can assure you, I will be the furthest thing from a gentleman. Don’t test my kindness, you’ll find it runs out very shortly.”

My reasoning must have struck some kind of common sense nerve in her, because she seems to reassess her situation.

"Gloucester Mews. In Paddington." She turns, staring out the window once again.

I turn on the radio, David Grey singing about Babylon, and tap my fingers in time on the steering wheel. I've never been in the presence of a female, at least in the last couple of years, who isn't all over me the minute we are alone.

Leah Watson is like a Rubik’s Cube. Every time I think I've got her figured out, she shows me another side, infinitely complicating my plan to seduce her. She's a challenge, and those don't come along often in my life now. Usually everything is dumped in my lap, and she is not one of them. It makes me want to fight tooth and nail to get it. Get her.

Get her, but not keep her. I don't do that sort of thing anymore. I don't fall, melt or go head over heels for anyone.

As I drive us through London's Zone 1 I see her perk up a bit. I realize that in the short couple of days she's been here, she probably hasn't seen anything, except my messy life. I feel kind of bad about that, except at the same time it selfishly feels brilliant.

So I go for selflessness. “So, you fancy Thai food now, huh?”

The lights from the street and the moon catch her hair as she turns her head. “I liked it a lot, thanks.”

“My pleasure. I’ll take you anywhere you want to eat if you’ll make noises like that again.”

Her features clouded with confusion. “What noises?”

I smirked just thinking about them, the tip of my cock warming and pulsing at the memory. “Those tiny, breathy moans you made when the flavors touched your tongue. The whispered groans that came from your throat, like you were in the throes of a brilliant orgasm, as if you didn’t care who was around to hear you because the pleasure was just too overwhelming. Those noises. I’ll feed you whatever you need to get you to make those again.”

Her face is the shade of ripe cherry as she gapes at me, and I know she hasn’t misheard my double entendre about feeding her whatever she wants. Because right now, I’d very much like to feed her the monster growing between my legs.

I drive up Edgeware Road, flinching as I see what she's living so close to. Men, with their dangerous and wandering eyes, openly cat calling any women on the street that aren’t dressed in traditional Middle Eastern garb. Children begging in and out of restaurants, the men who fathered them sitting closely by ogling any modern female. It wasn’t a ghetto necessarily, but it wasn’t the safest area of the city.

I had no problem with different races, religions, etc. London was one of the biggest melting pots in the world. But I did take issue with men who treated women like objects. Who felt that they were put on this planet for male gratification and nothing else. Yes, I was a smarmy asshole most of the time, but I never threatened women, made them feel as if they were in danger. I clearly set the boundaries, sex and nothing more. If I wasn’t interested in a woman for that, I typically didn’t even give her the time of day. But I would never hurt one physically. I couldn’t say the same about these men.