Page 82 of Once Upon A Player
I take a deep breath. It’s way harder to push out the words than I thought it’d be. “I behaved like a dick the other night. Assumed she’d give up her jobs without a second thought and move to Madrid with me. She gave me a right bollocking and then said her mum wasn’t well.”
Why did she say that, though?
“Huh.” Harry frowns. “What’s up with her mum?”
Trust Harry to miss the bloody obvious. “There’s nothing wrong—” The words lodge in my throat as a terrible suspicion hits me.
Fuck.What have I done? I can’t remember what I said to her when she told me that on Thursday, but it wasn’t good.
What the hell is wrong with her mother? I should’ve asked her. She mentioned it a couple of times, and I just let it go because I assumed she was recovering from a cold, or something.
The fuck you did, Carter.
I just didn’t bloody think atall.
Why didn’t Bec say anything? Except Bec never discusses her family with her clients. I don’t even know if she’s aware I’m dating Violet. I certainly haven’t told her.
“Bollocks.” I drop my head into my hands and spear my fingers through my hair.
“Lightbulb moment?” Harry says helpfully.
“Yeah.” I groan and squeeze my eyes shut. No wonder she’d kept looking at her phone. All I could think about that night was how my plans were falling apart, when she had so much more on her mind. How sick is her mum if Violet’s that worried about her?
“Huh.” This time my brother sounds chuffed, like he’s now a relationship guru. “All right, then. So, you want to get Violet back?”
I slump farther over my knees. “I’m screwed.”
“My best advice,” says my brother, sounding way too cheerful considering this is my fucking life we’re discussing, “is that you grovel. Big time.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Violet
No.
The train I intended to catch is canceled, and although the next one is on time, it’s made me late, and it’s almost two-thirty when I arrive at the hotel.
Please don’t have finished the interview early and left already.
The hotel is clearly catering to the influx of fans, as they’ve opened a small conference room and are showing the interview live, on United’s cable TV channel.
The room is packed, and I hover by the door, then I catch sight of a notice directing, presumably, the press to the interview itself. Even though I won’t be able to get into the room, I make my way along the wide, carpeted corridor, and there’s another notice on a stand, proclaiming that Lucas Carter is in conference room one.
Sure enough, there are a couple of security guards. At the other end of the corridor.
With their backs to me.
My heart pounds, and my hands are sweaty.I’m not really going to do this, am I?
Before I even answer my own question, I push open the door and slip inside. Instead of being safely at the back, where no one will notice me, the door opens halfway along the room. A few heads turn in my direction, and I stealthily shut the door behind me and try not to catch anyone’s glance.
Talk about looking suspicious.Guilt leaks from me, but I’m not about to turn back now. Lucas is speaking, clearly answering a question I missed. His voice is a thousand times sexier than I remember and sets the butterflies off in my stomach.Not now, Vi.I straighten my shoulders and grip my phone. With a bit of luck, the journalists will think I’m recording.
At least no one marches over and demands to know what I’m doing there, and I take a deep breath and swivel on my heels. I’m instantly transfixed by the sight of Lucas, who’s sitting behind a table with Bec and a couple of other people I don’t know at the front of the room.
“So, Lucas,” one of the journalists says, although I can’t see who’s speaking. I can’t see anyone but Lucas. “There were some rumors you’d lost your heart to a gorgeous redhead over the summer. Any truth to that?”
What thefuck? Heat blasts through me, and I have the terrible urge to slink back out of the room before anyone guesses she’s talking about me. Well, how many other redheads has Lucas dated over the last month?
