Slabs of stone and bags of mulch, or possibly manure based on the stench, were piled up. I wandered past it, searching for a door or entryway, stepping under a veranda where large deep green plants were tucked away from the elements.
‘Come on, give me a door.’ I muttered, ‘Ah, thank you,universe.’ I let out a breath when a steel door came into view, a sign that read‘main area’telling me this was the one I wanted.
I heard a hushed voice come from behind a row of steel shelves only a few feet away from the door. The voice was deep and sounded harried. I stepped closer. Incurably nosy. My previous boyfriends had complained about it, but it hadn’t curbed my constant desire to know what was happening.
Making my footsteps as quiet as possible, I stepped towards the voice.
‘She’s fucking lying!’
I flinched backwards at the ferocity of the man’s tone.
‘Why do I have to prove anything? It’s my career that’s gone down the fucking toilet. What have they lost? Huh?’
Something in my stomach dropped—thatvoice.
I knew that voice. From the few interactions we’d had and the copious amount of post-match interviews I’d watched, I couldn’t mistake the deep sonorous tone of Oliver Blake. The good news was that I didn’t need to hunt his brother down after all. The bad news… I was listening to what was clearly a very private conversation, and if I wanted to convince him to let me write a book about him, this was not the best way to start.
‘I’m not doing it, Tony. End of story.’
His voice grew louder, and it took me a second to realise he was coming closer. I looked desperately around, but he was coming too quickly for me to reach the door in time, so I tried my best to school my features into one of nonchalance. My stomach dropped to my feet when Oliver rounded the corner; his phone pressed to his ear, a look of manic frustration pulling his features together. He raked a hand through his hair with such violence that I wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled a chunk out.
He stopped short, nearly on top of me. My height was average, five foot eight, but when I stood next to Oliver’s six foot three, it was difficult not to feel engulfed by his presence. He blinked a few times, frozen. Not seeming to register my presence.
I smiled what I hoped was a warm smile, not anI’m a crazy superfan who wants to sell your teethsmile. I knew I’d missed the mark when his eyes darkened with anger.
‘You’re fuckingstalkingme now?’
This was going to require alotof explaining.
10
OLIVER
Dusky pink hair pulled into a messy bun stopped me in my tracks. The woman I’d half expected to never see again in this lifetime stood in front of me, palms held up as if trying to calm a wild horse.
Tony continued to scream at me down the phone, still pressed to my ear. I pulled it away and ended the call. He could pester my brother if he was so desperate to get a hold of me. Right now, I wanted to know why this woman kept following me, popping up at the most random times in the oddest places. My instincts, honed from years of being in the public eye, flared to life.
‘Tell me why I shouldn’t call the police?’ I ground out, pointing a finger at her.
This proclamation which was meant to scare her, did the complete opposite. In fact, this woman rolled her eyes. She rolled her mahogany brown eyes at me like the threat was some childish jab. It wasn’t.
I’d had to do it countless times with random strangers who wanted a piece of me. Women who thought we had some relationship when I’d never met them; men whobecame so obsessed with me they’d tried to break into my flat. The threat of calling the police was real, yet Fallon batted it away, folding her arms over her chest.
‘It would be the definition of wasting police time. Plus, I wasn’t even here to see you.’
It took me a second to realise how close we were standing. And I only realised when I saw Fallon straining her head to look me in the eyes. I was used to intimidating people. Taking my height and build into account—the amount of space I took up usually was enough to have people stepping back. But not Fallon.
Her name sparked into my mind like a candle being lit.
I wasn’t likely to ever forget this curvy spark of a woman.
I mimicked her pose, folding my arms over my chest and refusing to take a step back.
‘Oh yeah? Who are you here to see? And why are you in the stockroom?’
You needed a passcode to enter.
Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn’t step back. Simply squared her shoulders and narrowed her eyes.
