Cameron’s eyes darkened with an anger that reminded me of last night, of his reaction to seeing the stupid clip. For a second, I’d thought he’d release me, that he’d move away, but instead, his touch turned more possessive, more intent, against the side of my head. As if he was scared I’d go somewhere. Or perhaps he thought I’d break again.
“Turns out, I’d been nothing but collateral in a business transaction,” I told him. And God, I felt sick to my stomach hearing the words. Allowing myself to think of it for the first time. I pushed through. “David had never wanted to date plain ol’ Adalyn. He’d only wanted the daughter of Andrew Underwood. And my dad had encouraged it because we just… made sense. David was the son of a business partner and I was his daughter. Same circles, same age. He…” Cameron’s expression tightened, and I let out a humorless laugh. “He promised David a high management position in the club if he married me. Like I’m some… stock or possession you exchange. Or worse yet, like he didn’t believe David—or anyone—would do that without some kind of motivation or compensation. I don’t know.”
No words came out of the man in front of me. His only response was a brush of his thumb against my jaw. Soothing. Encouraging. All while a storm brewed behind the green of his eyes.
“My father wasn’t wrong,” I continued. “David had never intended to marry me. Probably not even date me, seeing as I am ‘frigid, boring, and forgettable in bed.’？” I gestured in air quotes. Those were his exact words. And I shouldn’t care but… I did. A part of me did. “That’s why the moment he’d locked in the position, and it was announced, he dropped me like the dead weight I was. ‘Dodged a bullet,’ he said.” A humorless chuckle left me. “I can’t even imagine how mad my father must have been when his plan not only backfired, but he ended up being extorted by David.”
I could almost picture my father’s face. The way it contorted when something didn’t go his way. And what was stranger, how could someone who had played so many people be played like that? I couldn’t understand.
“Extorted how?” Cameron asked, making me realize I was lost in thought.
“David threatened to come clean if my father fired him or demoted him.” The day of the incident with Sparkles had been the anniversary party and there had been pre-celebration drinks. I knew what alcohol did to David. It made him cocky. Braggy. “I overheard David. He was so happy, telling all of this to… Paul. Sparkles. He was blabbing all his secrets to the mascot of the team. A giant bird made of polyester. Right there, in the stairwell, where anyone could have heard. As if this was some locker story you shared with your teammates instead of… my life.”
I stopped talking, needed a second to myself. Focusing on Cameron’s touch.
“I felt so incredibly small,” I continued, voice breaking. “Deemed unsuitable by David. Incapable of handling one of the most natural things in life by my father. Not enough. And what was worse, I felt betrayed by the club I’d given so much to. Sparkles being the one listening to all of this made it so much worse in some bizarre way.” My voice wavered again. “So, when I saw the silly bird shaking his ass in the middle of everything and everyone that represented the Miami Flames, not even ten minutes later, as if nothing had happened, as if my whole world hadn’t been turned on its axis, I did break.”
Cameron’s eyes roamed all over my face, my body, in a desperate, aimless way. And when they finally returned to mine, I recognized the question in them. So I nodded—how could I not—and before I could so much as blink, he was settling me on his lap and bringing me to his chest.
“The last thing I remember is walking toward Paul,” I whispered, and Cameron’s arms came around my shoulders and waist. Tighter. As tightly as I’d ever been held. “Then, Sparkles’s head was at my feet.”
Cameron hummed deep in his throat, the sound reverberating against my body.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you thought I was crazy,” I heard myself say. “Seeing as even that way, even after everything I heard, I’m here, proving myself to them. To him. Instead of confronting them.” My voice turned into a murmur. “But I guess I’m not that brave. And I still messed up. I hate messes. I’m usually the one who cleans them up.”
That club was everything I knew. My life was the Miami Flames and, therefore, my father. So what else could I have done but try to win them back?