Page 114 of My Pucking Crush

“Yep,” I say, glad she dropped it.

She leans in and whispers, “I thought he was a...boyfriend.”

My heart stops, and I feel like the biggest fool. Is itthatobvious we’re fucking? I’m in a room full of people who know me. Knew about me and Jake.

Now I’m sick to my stomach, wondering if Coach told her what my uncle did to me. Not wantinganyof this to be about me, I smile wryly. “Heismy protector.”

Her wink soothes me, but my guard shoots right back up when a trio of women enter. They gasp seeing me. I don’t wait for them to gush and ask for selfies. I slide on my shades and get the hell out of the funeral parlor before I suffocate.

SIXTY-TWO

Luca

Ifollow Max out of the funeral parlor, wanting to ask why his shoulders are up around his ears. Waiting to cross the street, I exhale and ask brusquely, “Where’s this pub?”

My tone gets Max’s attention. “What’s wrong?”

He reaches out to touch me, but a voice nearby jerks his hand back. It feels like I’ve been slapped. Our gazes lock. We’re each wearing shades, but the stare still wrecks me. I know what’s behind those mirrored lenses.

His shame. Of me. Of what we have.

“Nothing.” I motion for him to cross the road and walk to the car while I take up the rear.

Very different from last night when we walked side by side like equals. Will I ever really be his equal if he’s a superstar and I’m an assassin for the mafia?

Turning on bodyguard mode, I get him into the armored SUV and drive to the pub where, we sit in the parking lot, waiting for his old friends to show up, the blaring silence rattling my nerves.

“I’m going to check out the place first, make sure nothing looks off.” I push to get out. “Please stay here.”

“Sure thing,” he says coldly.

I don’t know where this distance is coming from. All these reminders of his past perhaps. It feels so tangled, but I just know I need to keep Max safe through the rest of the games against Richmond. We haven’t discussed what happens if those fuckers lose.

Will Belova want revenge and try to hurt Max oranother player for the next two rounds of play? I don’t know how much more I can take.

I’m not goinghometo Belova. When the champagne bottle cork pops after the final Stamford win, I have to leave. Disappear into Sebastian Daria’s underground gambling world, and ask the Byrnes, therealruthless savages, for help getting Samara back.

Inside, the pub is fairly empty, but it’s only four p.m. I can spot a shady character from a mile away, and nothing here looks amiss.

I step up to the bar and offer the server my hand. “I have a high-profile client coming in soon with some local buddies.”

“You carrying?” He shakes my hand, looking me up and down.

“I’m his security.” I reach into my wallet and show my permit with a twenty underneath.

“No need for that, mate.”

I drop it on the bar regardless “Do you have cameras?”

“Not yet.” He shrugs.

If something does go down, I can’t check the footage. I exhale and nod, watching the server head to the other side of the bar where locals sit.

With one last look around, I step back to the entrance, horrified to find Max already outside the SUV, shoulder to shoulder with his old buddies. The difference in their suits is comically obvious. Cheap and ill-fitting compared to Max’s finely-cut, designer number. He struts toward me, so devastatingly handsome, I have to remind myself to breathe.

A horn honks, and I reach for my piece, but Max waves. He’s not used to being in danger. But it’s all I know.

I step outside and hold the door open for Max andhis friends, keeping my face even, secretly hoping he will introduce me, but he doesn’t.

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