Page 9 of The Defender

VINCENT

I lasted seven days in their house.

After I agreed to move in, Asher went back to my house with me to pack a full duffel. I also checked out of my hotel, (reluctantly) filed a police report, and went ahead with the security upgrades on Monday.

As expected, the police were less than impressed by my problem. They thought it was normal weird shit celebrities had to deal with, but they were also big Blackcastle fans and assigned an obligatory detective to my case. I had little faith they would find the intruder, but at least it was on record.

However, the most pressing problem was the fact that I was now living with my sister and her boyfriend. It was a big house, but when we were forced to live under one roof with construction and copious amounts of PDA, even Buckingham Palace wouldn’t be big enough.

I could deal with the noise and piles of sawdust everywhere. I could even look past Asher and Scarlett’s kisses and cuddle time on the couch, but I drew the line at anything that made me want to upchuck.

That line was crossed on day seven. Asher and I usually went home from practice together, but I had to run some errands first.

When I returned to the house, the contractors were gone, but the faint strains of classical music filled the air. It appeared to be coming from the ballet studio.

“Hello?” I called out. “Lettie? You home?”

I walked toward the studio, my senses on high alert. My heartbeat thundered through my entire body as every worst-case scenario ran through my mind. Last week’s incident had heightened my paranoia, and while I didn’t think a burglar would stop for a Beethoven intermission before they robbed the place, I couldn’t fathom why Asher or Scarlett would be playing music in a half-finished studio either.

I stopped at the door. It was closed, but the music wasdefinitelycoming from inside.

You know that saying, curiosity killed the cat? Well, I understood firsthand how that cat felt because instead of minding my own damn business the way I should’ve, I opened the door.

“Jesus!”

“Fuck!”

“Vincent!”

“Have you heard of knocking first?!”

“Why would I knock when this is supposed to be aconstruction site?” Bile splashed up my throat as Scarlett and Asher jerked away from each other, their faces bright red.

Neither of them was naked, thank God, but they didn’t have to be for me to figure out what they’d been doing. Mussed hair, rumpled clothing, guilty expressions—the implications were clear.

Scarlett was sitting on the barre with her legs wrapped around Asher’s waist, and I needed to find the nearest bottle of bleach to drown myself in.

“No. Nope. Abso-fucking-lutely not.” I turned right around and marched to my room. I didn’t give them a chance to say anything else.

I was an open-minded person. I’d come to terms with my sister dating my teammate and I understood, theoretically, that they engaged in normal couple activities.

But there was no way I could continue to live here after almost walking in on them having sex. I lucked out this time, but the longer I stayed, the greater the chances of me clawing my eyes out.

I needed to find a new place to crash. ASAP.

Three days later

“I’m so freaking excited we’re flatmates now!” Adil flopped onto the couch next to me with the zeal of a hyperactive golden retriever. “The captain and the midfielder, living under one roof. It’s going to be a blast. We can read Wilma Pebbles late into the night. WatchLove Islandtogether. Go for a morning jog at sunrise.” His face lit up. “We could even have our own reality show! We’ll call itBlackcastle Behind the Scenes: The Lives of Footballers On and Off the Pitch.” He waved his hand through the air, as if he were presenting an imaginary marquee.

“Love Islandisn’t on air right now, and that’s a little long for a show title,” I said dryly, keeping my eyes trained on the TV screen before us.

“Greatness requires more words.” He settled deeper into the couch. “Whatcha watching?”

“New Nate Reynolds.” I was a big fan of Reynolds’s action thrillers. “I think they’re getting to an important part of the plot, so if?—”

“Awesome. Is this the one where he tries to stop the cyberterrorists from taking down the US electrical grid?”

I held back a sigh. So much for a quiet evening.