Page 14 of Maximum Dare
He turned away from me slowly and then strolled out the gate and over to his waiting car. He threw the dirty washing in the boot.
I returned to the sitting room and placed Pelé back in his box to keep him safe. For some reason, the room seemed even lonelier now.
Plopping down on the couch, I squeezed back tears, trying to come to terms with leaving my home, the place where I had finally felt like I belonged.
There were so many good memories here.
This breakup had happened so fast I’d not had time to process it. Now, with no TV and no Internet, I was left with nothing but my thoughts to torture me. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t read, couldn’t think straight. My body ached as though I were sick. My heart kept cycling through all the stages of loss with no end in sight. Betrayal felt like a living, breathing entity that clung to my soul. This shadow would never lift.
Nick Banham had destroyed me.
It was easy to get lost in Summerhouse, one of the largest private homes in London and home to my eccentric mum.
She and David had bought the sprawling Hampstead mansion years ago—thanks to Mum’s stellar modeling career and my stepfather’s iconic footballer status. The estate had a gym, an outdoor swimming pool, a grand ballroom, and a lush garden with a tennis court. The house was too big for a widow, but Mum seemed happy to remain here. It was where Nick had been raised. The place where all his foibles had formed.
Growing up in the shadow of two icons had clearly been a strain at times. So much so that he had kept his parents’ identities a secret—and he’d not even told Daisy, apparently. But he’d been honest with Morgan. Maybe she really was The One for him.
For me, time spent with my stepfather was pretty fantastic for a boy obsessed with football. The man who became my second father had always been kind to me, welcoming me into the family with open arms. David never treated me differently than Nick.
Fond memories of the place washed over me as I joined the hundreds of guests milling around the vast garden. We were surrounded by towering outdoor heaters, which proved the hostess had money to burn—quite literally.
“Who the hell thought a garden party in the middle of winter was a good idea?” I mumbled to myself.
“I did.” Nick’s voice piped up from behind me.
I pivoted to look at him. “Why?”
“Morgan.” He gave me a sheepish grin, admitting he was trying to impress her.
Not surprisingly, he’d dressed down in ripped jeans and a casual sweater—compared to me, who’d followed the formal dress code forhissoirée. My three-piece suit felt stuffy as hell. Obviously this high-brow event was not only meant to appease Nick, guests and staff bowing down to him to impress his new girl, but to show me off as the eligible eldest son.
Nick looked me up and down. “Playing the part of gangster lawyer?”
I might have represented some shady characters in my time, but that was unfair. Anyway, this was a tailored Savile Row suit. A look he’d adopt after he’d worked through his bad boy phase.
“There are other ways to impress a woman,” I chided.
“Morgan will be rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous. Least a boyfriend can do.”
“To post on her Instagram?” I said. “Better ask the guests first. This is a private affair.”
After a beat he studied me. “You recognize Morgan, then?”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I only knew about her infamous status from Daisy. “Where did you go last night that was so important?” Having left me on the side of the road with his ex, no less.
“We went home.”
I flashed him a wary glance. “How have you been, Nick?”
“Fine.”
“How have youreallybeen?”
He gave a shrug. “Just wish Dad was alive to see what I’m doing.”
“He’d be proud of you. You know that.”
“I miss him more every day. I still can’t believe he’s gone.”
