Asher blinks a few times. “Undressed. Right.”
“So you should…” I can’t bring myself to sayleave. If he leaves, I’ll be here alone. My headache might come back at any moment, though my meds seem to be doing their job.There’s a reason you were willing to get married for the insurance.
And if anyone catches us here together, there won’t be any more marriage. Any more insurance. “You should go.”
Asher nods. “Okay.” For a moment, he doesn’t move. Then he sticks his hands in his pockets, knuckles rigid through the fabric. “Have a good night, Mrs. Forsyth.”
And he’s just about to leave when there’s a sound from the hallway—someone knocking at the door, demanding to be let in.
Chapter Thirteen
Brayden
There arevoices coming from Savannah’s room. The room where she got ready. The room where we?—
Voices. Right. I’m not drunk—I’m notthatdrunk. Just enough to take the edge off this party. Practically sober. Sober enough to make out two voices, then a series of thumps.What the?—?
I knock again. “One minute!” Savannah calls. Then she says something too low for me to make out.
I should storm in there. See what’s going on. We danced together earlier. She kissed me earlier, the press of her plush, glossed lips to mine. If I find her with someone else…
I get a weird burning feeling at the back of my throat. Humiliation? Jealousy? Something I should drown in more liquor.I’ll divorce you. The thought rises quick and dies off just as fast. She might need me long term, but a rapid marriage followed by a rapid separation won’t exactly show the team I’ve turned over a new leaf.
I seize the door handle. Rotate it. Open the door.
Find Adler sitting on one of the couches, scrolling idly through his phone like he’s completely unbothered to be found—caught—in here.
“Where’s Savannah?” I demand.
He gives me that flat look of his, the one that makes me want to wrestle him to the ground and rub his smug face into the carpet. “Changing.” He nods toward the bathroom.
Which doesn’t explain whathe’sdoing in here, but I can guess: he’s here to take something else that’s not his. First Blake’s spot on the roster, now my wife.
She’s not yours either.Not really. That doesn’t matter. “You lost?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Not really.”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to be polite.Get out.”
He doesn’t budge, just stands up to meet me with his shoulders stiff. Finally, he gestures toward the low coffee table, where one gold high heel is sitting. “She lost her shoe. I was returning it.”
“Great, it’s back, you can go now.” Maybe I’m louder than I should be, but so what? The party is going hard down the hallway. No one can hear us but Savannah.
Adler still isn’t leaving. He brings his index finger to his lips as if he’sshushingme. “She has a migraine.”
“What does that have to do with—?” I don’t have time to finish the sentence. Adler grabs me and shoves me into the nearest wall, arm a bar across my chest. We’re the same height but he’s maybe very slightly taller than I am. That doesn’t stop me from pushing against him, moving him back a few steps. I’m going to win: this fight, the rivalry we have on the field, whatever else we’re competing over.
Until he stiff-arms me into the wall and holds me there.
I struggle against him. I lift just as much as he does—not that I’ve been paying attention to him when we’re in the weight roomtogether. But I definitely do. It doesn’t help. Adler’sangry, fire behind his normally flat expression. “Get the hell off me,” I say.
“I told you to be quiet,” he snaps.
“Just ’cause she has a headache doesn’t mean I can’t know what’s going on with my own wife.”
“She has amigraine.”
“A headache,” I repeat, a little dumbly.
