“You didn’t care? You didn’t care that these incredibly private moments would be out there for anyone to see? God, I trusted you and you just… yeah, that’s the point, isn’t it? This is my fault. I trusted you and that’s on me.”
“No it’s not. I’m sorry. I’ll fire her. I’ll do it right now.”
“I don’t care that she leaked the pictures, Alex. I care that you didn’t seem to care one way or the other. Were you ever going to tell me?” He looked away and that was all the answer she needed. “Of course not.”
She had to go. She had a practice court reserved in a little less than a half hour, and Dom would be there any minute. Chucking off the towel, she dressed quickly, not even sparing Alex a glance.
Then her own phone, charging on the dresser, started vibrating, and message after message began popping up on the screen. Behind her, she heard Alex’s phone doing the same, a steady stream ofblingsechoing in the large hotel suite.
“Fuck,” Alex muttered, his eyes on his phone. Then he looked up at Penny, his shoulders slumped in defeat, and she knew.
It was too late. Caroline had leaked the photo.
She should have felt panic rising in her chest or her headaching from the onslaught of bombshells in the last few minutes, but instead a calm washed over her, a stillness that she’d only ever felt before on the tennis court.
“I have training soon. I should get going.”
Moving back across the room, she grabbed a band and pulled her hair up into a quick ponytail. Through the reflection in the mirror, she saw the eyes of the man she’d trusted with her body and nearly with her heart, focused on her, agonized bewilderment written clear on his face.
“Penny,” Alex began as soon as she turned around, but she shook her head. Whatever he had to say, however he thought he could make this better, she didn’t want to hear it.
“I knew something like this would happen. It was all too damn good to be true.” She couldn’t look at him. If she looked him in the eye, it would weaken her resolve, and she had to be strong.
“Penny, please,” he tried again, but she ignored him.
She opened the hotel room door and then looked back at the man still sitting on her bed, head in his heads. “You shouldn’t be here when I get back.”
Neither Dom nor Jack asked her about what happened when she met them in the lobby, but by their tense silence, it was clear they knew about the picture. No one uttered a word as they walked down through the lobby and out of the hotel and hopped into the car waiting to take them to Roland-Garros. By the time they arrived, the rain had stopped and the sky was clearing to a bright blue.
Dom told her to warm up, so she did. Then they worked on a few footwork drills, followed by their usual pre-match routine, sticking to the basics, making sure her shots were strong going into her match that night. The workout got her heart rate up, and a fine sheen of sweat coated her skin by the time they were finished, but it didn’t do anything for her mental state. The odd calm that had settled over her at the hotel had disappeared as soon as they got on the court, replaced by a cloudy mess of confusion, and by the way Dom was looking at her, he definitely noticed. Penny didn’t need him to tell her she’d practiced like crap.
Her hands shook, vibrating with frustration as she packed up her gear and left the practice court. She wasn’t sure who she was most angry at, but she quickly settled upon herself for letting herself give in. She was prepared for this tournament, thanks mostly to Alex. Playing with him every day had brought her game to a whole new level: Her reaction time was shorter, her feet were quicker, and no other player had ever tested her will, on and off the court, so thoroughly—but then it had all gone to hell so quickly. When had this become her life? Men and sex and drama instead of what she’d always wanted, to be the best tennis player in the world. Was it so wrong to want someone to share that with? A dull ache settled in around her heart, her chest tightening.
“Stop it. You have to snap out of it,” she muttered to herself as she turned a corner nearing the street exit and nearly collided headlong with another young woman headed in the opposite direction. A long blond braid flashed past her face as the other girl tossed her head in annoyance.
Penny narrowed her eyes as she regained her footing. “Zina.”
“Watch where you are going. Oh. It is you,” her rival said with a small smile. She didn’t sound all that surprised. “I did not expect to see you. I thought maybe you would withdraw.”
“Why would I do that?” Penny cocked her head to the side, not letting Zina’s slightly larger frame intimidate her. There were a few people loitering around and she recognized most of them as reporters. This had setup written all over it.
“You have no chance to win.”
“You have a short memory.”
She wasn’t going to give Zina or the reporters what they wanted; she wouldn’t be goaded into a fight. Not even while every fiber of her being was screaming at her to haul off and smack the smug, superior smirk off the Russian girl’s face.
“My memory is good. You played your best tennis. I played my worst. I have won two tournaments since that defeat, and you have spent time since then not training, but fucking Alex Russell.”
Her stomach lurched at the mention of his name, but she kept her reaction off her face. “We’ll see, won’t we?”
Penny walked away, feeling every set of eyes fixed upon her. In a few minutes the internet would probably explode with pictures and reports of her little tête-à-tête with Lutrova, but at least for the first time since she’d arrived in France, they’d be talking about tennis.
JASMINE WAS READY TO STRANGLE HER DOUBLES PARTNER. ITwasn’t the all-consuming envy from a few days ago, but she had no idea that being friends with Indiana Gaffney would be more torturous than being rivals. Indy had made it her mission to find Jasmine a replacement for Teddy.
“What about him?” Indy asked, and nodded to her left as a guy walked by them, studying the strings of his racket.
“Too short,” Jasmine said, wrinkling her nose.
