Page 3 of Hard to Hold

I’ve seen her before. She’s pale—skin, hair, eyes—but her smile has always been kind and her questions always polite.

But there’s an accusatory lift of her eyebrows when our gazes meet, and when I glance down to what is in her hand, I know why.

It’s a copy of The Sun with the grainy black and white photo on its cover.

I don’t have to stare to know what it is. I’ve studied that image repeatedly in the past three days and have every detail memorized. It’s the unmistakable image of the British princess of pop, Esme, on a hotel balcony with a man’s arms wrapped around her. Trees from where the photographer hid obstruct some of their bodies, but there’s no denying the man looks like me. The clothes, the haircut and style, down to the same bloody shoes—everything—looks exactly like me.

Premier Footballer Cheats with Team Captain’s Wife, Pop Star - Esme.

It’s the title I’ve seen splashed fucking everywhere, and the look in the reporter’s eyes tells me she believes it. That she’s disappointed in me.

That she believes I could do that.

Why shouldn’t she though, when my manager and my own teammates don’t even question the validity of the bloody photo? The shiner I have beneath my left eye from where Seth punched me reinforces it.

They simply assume it’s true. They simply believe that I would do that. That I have no moral fiber. No belief in the sanctity of marriage.

And that’s what angers me the most.

I reach past her and pull on the gate, pass through, and leave the press shouting even louder as I walk across my lawn to the front door.

I want to tell them that if they looked closer, they’d see the truth.

But why the hell should I?

Why is it their expectation that I have to prove my innocence, as they chant my name while wearing it on a jersey across their shoulders?

For the hundredth time tonight, why the fuck should I?

CHAPTER ONE

LENNOX

CHEAP ALCOHOL DISGUISED IN FANCY glasses is passed around by the trayful. Attendees clothed in either beaded gowns or black tuxedos mill about, each one acting more in the know than the person they’re talking to. The soft and slow drawl of jazz being piped in through the speakers allows for easy conversation.

“He has to be the greatest of all time. How can you refute that?”

“No way. How can you think they’ll even be close to clinching the title this year?”

“Did you hear all the shit he got himself into? Thank God, I’m not his agent. Talk about a fucking headache.”

I take the last sip of champagne and set the flute down on the empty cocktail table behind me—along with the binder of information we received in our earlier conference—as I stifle a yawn.

“By that yawn you’re fighting, Kincade, I’m going to assume you were one of the ones out late last night riding the mechanical bull.”

I freeze at the smooth voice of Finn Sanderson—fellow agent extraordinaire, smooth-talking asshole, and the reason Kincade Sports Management is currently struggling.

“What is it they say? What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas? It’s not every year the Sports Summit is held in a good location such as this.” I shrug, completely ignoring my aching muscles from riding said bull, and add a sarcastic smile to my lips as I turn to face him. “And the yawn was simply because I knew you were headed my way, so I was preparing myself for our conversation. I didn’t want to be rude and do it in front of you.”

“Such a pleasure as always,” he murmurs and leans in to kiss my cheek, his own sarcasm not far from the tip of his tongue.

Self-control has me not flinching at his touch so I grit my teeth instead. “Can’t say the same.”

“I get you like this cute banter-y thing you do, but honestly, Lennox, it makes you seem a little more beast and a lot less beauty.” He purses his lips as he stares at me over the rim of his glass, eyes taunting just like his words. “It’s quite unbecoming.”

A million things come to mind about what he’s done that’s unbecoming—stealing our clients by taking cheap shots at us, being a complete ass to my sister before they broke up, the fact that he breathes—but I don’t say a thing.

“And you’re enjoying Vegas, Finn?”