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BEN

“Is everything in place?” Grabbing my jacket from behind my chair, I stand up and adjust my cufflinks as Hank stares at me with a raised brow. “Fine, I should know better than to question you, oh mighty Mr. Richards. Now, let’s go.”

A deep chuckle comes from my side as I stride out of my office, knowing he’ll be following closely behind. I walk a bit slower so he can keep the pace with me, and instead of getting a relieved look, I get a slap to the back of my head. “Ow, what was that for?”

“You slowing down and treating me like an old man, that’s what it’s for.”

His annoyed sigh makes me roll my eyes, but another raised brow from him makes me stop walking.

“Look, you’re in pain and I know this, so I slowed down a little. It’s got nothing to do with your age. You’re still a young, vibrant, sprig of a man to me.” I bat my lashes at him until a grin flits over his face and I know I’ve done my job.

The truth is, I don’t like to think of Hank as old. He’s been my right hand man since I came over here when I was nineteen. He was my uncle’s assistant, and whilst I was learning the ‘trade’ of running a successful American football team, Hank was there to offer guidance and support. My uncle didn’t have long to teach me the ins and outs before he died, and for those early months, Hank basically ran the show.

Fortunately I’d been prepped to be a businessman my entire life, ready to take over either my dad’s empire or my uncle’s. As the only son, and my uncle's oldest nephew, I got first dibs on whichever needed me first. The Syracuse Spartans became my new business and Syracuse became home. I’m a big enough man to know that despite all my business acumen, without Hank’s help, I would’ve tanked.

“How many are attending this thing anyway?” His voice cuts into my thoughts and I smirk back.

“Shouldn’t you know seeing as this is your thing.” He scrunches up his nose in disgust and frowns at me until I resume speaking. “Fine. There’s the whole family, some press, work colleagues, and a few of your friends. Come on, Hank. They wanted to celebrate you.”

“I’m getting my dang knee replaced, not coming back from war.” He shakes his head and blows out a resigned breath.

“I know you don’t like attention, but you’ve worked here for over twenty years now. We have to celebrate you. The Bradys and Angie wouldn’t take no for an answer, so stop whining and deal with it.”

He grumbles something about kicking my British arse, but I pay it no mind. I’m used to Hank’s threats and insults. He’s all bluster and no bite.

I let my thoughts wander to the other guests who will be there today. Jenson and Jameson are sure to make it worth my while. We’ve gotten closer over the past few months and they never fail to bring the good times with them. Game night with them has rapidly become my favourite activity of the week. They’re like that though, slowly wheedling their way into your life until they’re a solid part of your plans for the foreseeable.

And of course, wherever the boys are, Penelope bloody Richards isn’t far behind. She’ll most certainly be there today. Hank is her dad, after all. And before the carnival, I wouldn’t have given her a second thought. But ever since she threw a cream pie in my face, hustled me out of ten thousand dollars for her school, and swaggered off like a bloody boss, I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind. She’s kind, generous, loving—the golden girl of Syracuse. She goes above and beyond for everyone and does it all with a smile on her face.

And she’s fucking annoying. Sexy as sin in an innocent kind of way, but with an attitude to rival the biggest of giants. Her dark hair offsets her hazel eyes, and the freckles that dance over her nose are bloody adorable. And what makes it worse is she’s completely unaware of how gorgeous she is. She strolls through town with a smile on her face and never notices the eyes of the men following after her, eyeing her round arse as she goes. She drives me mad.

I wish she was a vacuous beauty who cared only about her hair or how much her handbag costs. But nope, she’s smart, quick witted, and sexy as fucking hell. And even though she irritates me, I’m also intrigued by her.

Take the cream pie at the carnival incident. Was I pissed to be out of ten thousand dollars? Yes. Was I humiliated to have been pied in the face by a girl in front of my players and staff? Of course, I was fucking fuming. I wanted to put her over my knee and turn her arse a pretty shade of red.

But was I also secretly proud of her for keeping her cool, throwing a perfect shot into my face, and then strutting off like a damn boss? Abso-fucking-lutely. I was so turned on I had to walk sideways so people wouldn’t spot the bulge in my trousers.

And that's how it’s been with Penelope since. For some reason I want her, but I don’t want to want her. Mainly because I know if I have her, I’d want to claim her. Dominate her. Make her mine. And I think once she let me do that to her, I’d be fully under her spell, and left in a very vulnerable situation.

She’s the kind of woman you fall in love with, settle down and marry. And being tied down to Penelope is something I’d enjoy a little too much. But with love comes the risk of being left in the cold when she leaves. I’ve worked too hard to let Penelope crush me from the inside. Because love doesn’t last. It didn’t for my mum and dad, or her parents. It destroys you from the inside out, and I’m not willing to be a participant of that.

Of course there’s an exception to every rule, but most of us are left broken hearted, out of pocket, and a shell of the men we once were. I won’t be any of those things. Ever.

No matter how good her damn arm is or how sexy her arse looks in jeans.