Page 105 of Forbidden Game

“I didn’t want to add any pressure. Thought I’d just watch from the box and offer my silent support. I wasn’t going to bring some big poster, like Paige would.”

I let out a low laugh because that is exactly what our sister would do.

My stoic eldest sister softens at the noise, and it just makes me feel worse. Phoebe isn’t one to offer pity often.

“I’m sorry, Parker.”

“It’s fine.”

“Really?” she drolls, cocking a perfectly sculpted brow.

“No.” I cross my arms over my chest and sink into the leather. “It’s not fucking fine. I just lost to a complete asswipe. It was my one chance before the championship, and I fucking blew it. Everyone’s going to think I suck and make fun of me online, and Sydney is going to see all of it. She’s going to think I’m a loser because even I think I’m a fucking loser right now.”

Phoebe pats my knee like a child. “Feel better?”

I glare up at her. “No.”

“You’re not a loser, P. You’re a lot of things, trust me, but you’re not a loser.”

“I lost, Phoebe. That’s the definition of a loser.”

“Technically, that bloke, what was his name…Danger…something, whatever, technically he came in last, so he is the loser. You just weren’t the winner.”

I sigh, some of the fight leaving my body. Being mad is exhausting, and that’s all I can feel in my bones. Exhaustion.

My phone begins vibrating in my pocket, and I pull it out to see an incoming call from Sydney.

Panic lances through me. I stare down at her photo, one I took of her just a few days ago when we were cuddled up on the couch. Half of me wants to answer the phone, the other half doesn’t.

Honestly, I just don’t want to deal with it right now. I don’t want to deal with the shame and embarrassment. I don’t want to deal with her sympathy. I don’t want to feel worse.

I acted like hot shit only to end up as dog shit.

The Maserati comes to a stop out front of the Covington Miami. A handful of reporters and fans are milling about outside, but security begins ushering them out of the way once they notice my sister’s car. Six men in suits flank the car as we exit and guide us inside the building. I keep my expression neutral until I’m safely inside my sister’s penthouse suite.

“I was wondering who had booked the penthouse,” I mumble as I dump my stuff on the couch and curl up. “I ended up settling for the King’s Suite because of you.”

Phoebe rolls her eyes as she pulls a bottle of LOUIS XIII cognac from the bar counter and pours three fingers worth of liquid into two tumblers. She sits on the couch next to me and hands me one of the glasses.

“I prefer my cognac on the rocks,” I say as I eye the crystal.

“Well, I like mine neat. So, either suck it up, or I’ll drink it.”

I grumble, taking the tumbler and sipping the amber liquid. It coats my tongue with its spicy taste before gliding slowly down my throat.

“Why are you beating yourself up over this so much? It’s unlike you.”

“You know why.”

“Parker, it was one tournament. Grandpa isn’t going to leave you to the wolves just because you lost once. You have two more games to qualify for the championship, and even then, it’s not like you’re going to be poor if things don’t go right.” She takes a sip of cognac, crossing her legs.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Well, it’s the truth. You’re acting like when you were ten and lost your first polo tournament. You sulked in your room for the entire weekend, refusing to eat or shower or anything.”

“Paige would’ve been a lot nicer about this.” I down the rest of the cognac, welcoming the burn. It stokes the fire within me, fueling the anger.

“Yes, well, unfortunately, you got stuck with me this time.” She takes the empty crystal from me and goes to refill it. “Plus, if you remember, you went on to win silver in the under twelves that year even though you lost.”

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