Page 23 of Drop Shot (On the Court #2)

“Elias’s girlfriend,” Noah answers when it becomes apparent, I won’t be speaking.

“What?” Trager swaggers his way in front of me, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his tux. “You can’t talk to me now?” he arches a brow. “I won that match fair and square.”

He didn’t, but that’s beside the point. He baited me that entire match with facial expressions and ridiculous grunts. He knew what he was doing, but I should’ve known better than to let it get to me.

“I’m not in the habit of talking to people I don’t have anything to say to.”

He laughs and I honestly think he’s amused by all this.

Trager is the kind of person who doesn’t care who he fucks over on his climb to the top—unfortunately for him, though, people remember and even the slightest bit of controversary will have those same people who kiss his ass now, singing like a canary.

“Don’t be so sensitive.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Introduce me to your friends.” His smirk grows as he turns toward Hugo and Marco who has now joined our group along with another former player named Grant.

I stay silent. I won’t be baited.

With a sigh, Noah makes the introductions.

One of us has to, lest we look like major assholes.

Unfortunately, I just can’t make myself do it.

Trager is a cocky little shit at twenty-years-old.

Not that I wasn’t the same, and can’t still be that way at times, but there’s something malicious in the way he does it.

I find myself looking toward the entrance hoping to spot Whimsy returning to save me from my nemesis, but there’s no sign of her or Sabrina yet.

An arm knocks into mine and I’m not surprised to find Trager grinning at me like the pain in my ass he is. “So, girlfriend, huh? Who is the lucky lady?” He looks around. “Because I’m not seeing anyone. Is she make-believe?”

Beside me Noah stifles a laugh. “Don’t laugh at this asshole,” I grumble.

“Gotta hand it to the kid, that was funny,” he comments.

“Kid?” Trager scoffs.

“Yeah, kid ,” Noah repeats. “You have more temper tantrums than my daughter does—granted, she’s well past the age for those, but then you should be too.”

Now it’s my turn to try not to laugh.

Just then, Whimsy and Sabrina return. My whole-body sags in relief when she slides her smooth palm into my hand. I shoot a small smile down at my fake-girlfriend.

“I’m glad you’re back.”

She eyes Trager up and down. “I bet you are.”

Trager snickers. “This is who your girlfriend is? Your assistant? I can’t believe you’ve stooped so low you’re dating your assistant.”

Whimsy narrows her eyes on him and something tells me to keep my mouth shut. Sure enough, she wastes no time in opening hers and giving it to him good. “You’re one to judge when the only thing willing to get the job done for you is your hand and I bet even it begs you for a break.”

I stifle a snort. Noah doesn’t even bother to hide his laugh.

Trager’s whole face reddens. “Bitch.”

Marco and Hugo look taken aback.

“Apologize,” Hugo demands of the younger player.

“Whatever.” Trager walks away, off to annoy someone else.

“Are you okay?” Marco asks Whimsy.

“I’ve been called worse,” she sighs, glaring at his retreating figure.

Gently, I grasp her chin and force her to look at me. “By who?”

“It’s not important.” She dismisses my concern like she’s swatting away a pesky fly.

“Since you’ve been working for me?” I press, wanting to get to the bottom of this.

“Elias,” she sighs, shoulders drooping. “We shouldn’t talk about this right now. We’re at an event.” She gestures around us. “It’s not important.”

My hand slides up her wrist and I don’t miss the subtle flutter in her pulse. “It wasn’t someone on my team, was it?” I can’t seem to let this go. I know now isn’t the time or place for this conversation, but if someone around me insulted her and they’re still in their position I want them gone.

She levels me with a stiff look. I know we’re the center of attention for the people around us, but I don’t care.

“No,” she answers. “Just from time to time there are people who try to use me as your assistant as a means to get to you. Most men don’t like being told no so then I’m called bitch or whore or cunt. You get the picture.”

I seethe at this information. It makes me want to hunt Trager down and throw my fist in his face.

Whimsy reaches up, patting my chest and bringing my eyes back to hers instead of searching for Trager.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m a big girl and I can handle myself. You don’t need to be my protector.”

“I’m your boyfriend. It’s my job,” I growl out.

She arches a brow, eyes flashing with amusement because we both know this arrangement is fake, but the venom in my voice doesn’t sound fake at all.

“Let’s go mingle,” she says, looping her arm through mine. “That’s why we’re here after all. I’m sure we’ll see you all soon.” She says her goodbyes to Noah, Sabrina, Marco, and Hugo before dragging me along like a puppy.

I realize as I paste on a fake smile and schmooze the elite that I’m in a world of trouble. We’ve only just started this farce and the feelings stirring in me are far from platonic.

I’m so fucking screwed.