Page 22 of Wicked Lord

“And how will that help you with Brock?”

I drew in a steadying breath, dreading this part. I hated the idea of revealing the true state of our financial affairs to Axel, but I had to let him in on some of it. “My father insists I find someone worthy, and he gave me until the end of the summer to land a successful fiancé, otherwise I’m stuck with Brock. If we pretend to be together, I’m hoping Brock will back out of the arrangement when he sees us, and Daddy will be appeased for a few months.”

“Just till the end of the summer?”

I nodded.

The crease between his brows deepened, and he remained silent for an endless moment. “Cordi was really jealous?”

“Sure as shit.” I smirked and dragged my hand down my curve-hugging dress. “Who wouldn’t be envious of all this?”

A warm chuckle dribbled from Axel’s lips, lifting his broad shoulders. “You’re not wrong there, Battenberg.”

I held out my hand, hope fluttering in my chest for the first time in a while. “So what do you say? Do we have a deal?”

CHAPTER 10

MAKE IT HAPPEN

Axel

The ball snapped, the line exploded, and I hesitated for half a second. Again. The whistle blew before I could curse, but Coach’s glare from the sideline said enough.

I ripped my football helmet off and wiped the sweat pouring down my face with my arm, the sun beaming across the field and frying my ass. As if the memories of last night weren’t bad enough, I had to play like shit during practice.

Images of Kyle ramming into Cordi from behind had my stomach churning. The crunch of his bones against my hand had an equally sickening effect, even if I did get a little pleasure out of causing him pain.

Still, if Killian hadn’t pulled me off, Kyle would be dead, and I’d be threatened with prison for murder.

Again.

“Yo, Vanderhart!” Byron jogged to me and tore his helmet off, his bronzed skin gleaming with sweat. “I can catch the ball—when you stop throwing duds.”

I flipped him off and snatched my water bottle from the table on the sidelines, squirting the ice-cold liquid into my mouth. “Go to hell, Phillips. I’m having an off day.”

“Must have had a rough night too.” His dark gaze lingered on my bruised knuckles. “Whose face did you break?”

“Just some little punk’s.”

The throbbing in my knuckles was nothing compared to the heavy weight sitting on my chest. Cordi had watched me erupt into a jealous rage and nearly kill a guy for fucking her. She’d never believe I didn’t have feelings for her, and that was the worst thing imaginable in her book.

When Lorelei proposed her little deal last night, I was skeptical. Could I spend an entire summer pretending to date Lorelei Battenberg just to make Cordelia jealous? Would anyone really believe we were a couple? Killian would think I’d lost my mind.

I would have immediately declined Lorelei’s offer, but the hope blooming in her eyes had stopped me. She had to be desperate to get away from Brock to even consider this, and that alone almost had me agreeing. Despite what she claimed, that fucker had hurt her.

So, I told her I’d think about it.

“Vanderhart!” Coach Carson blew his whistle from a few yards down the sidelines and waved me over.

I muttered several choice words as I jogged in his direction.

“Will the golden boy get scolded for once?” Byron laughed as he kept pace beside me before veering off to the field.

The coach chucked his clipboard on the table and crossed his arms against his broad chest, wrinkling the black and gold Knights shirt. Dark hair peppered with streaks of gray was smoothed away from his square face, the lines of his jaw so harsh a guy could break his damn hand if he tried to punch the colossalman. He’d played for the San Francisco 49ers until he busted both knees.

“What’s up with you today, Axel? Your head’s not in the game. It’s nowhere in the vicinity.”

I swallowed hard and raked my fingers through my damp strands. Just because Coach Carson wouldn’t bench me for fucking up didn’t mean I wasn’t disappointed in myself.