“But he didn’t give you his room number?” The awestruck friend seemed to sober a bit.
“No.”
“Then how did you get it?”
Yes, how indeed? There were genuine fans, and then there was this…she was crossing a major line.
“I overheard him telling the concierge to send up some drinks,” she said. “It was like he wanted me to hear it.”
Jesus, this girl was delusional.
Right?
I hated the doubt creeping into my blood, the whispers in the back of my head saying maybe Jansen was playing a game with the fan.
But no, that wasn’t right. Not at all.
And not because he couldn’t indulge in willing conquests, but because if he wanted the girl, he’d absolutely be straight forward and tell her. He was a flirt by nature, a tease at the best of times, and a downright scoundrel at the worst.
And you enjoy every single version of him.
True, but I didn’t have to tell him that.
“What are you going to do if he doesn’t like you showing up?” the friend asked, and the doors mercifully swung open.
I bolted through them, gulping down the air in the hallway, my eyes finding the large window at the end of it out of sheer instinct. My nerves untangled, a sense of solidness returning to my limbs as I headed toward my door.
“One, how could he not?” the redhead continued as they stepped out of the elevator. “Second, if he isn’t hospitable at first, I’m sure I can convince him to let me in.”
“I think we drank too much,” the friend said. “Because seriously, what if he doesn’t? What if he shuts the door in your face?” At least her friend was sounding somewhat reasonable.
“Then I’ll blast that shit all over social media,” the redhead said with a shrug.
Oh, fuck that—
I spun on my heels, stopping the direction I’d been heading toward my room, and damn near stomping to where the girls were going straight toward Jansen’s.
“Excuse me,” I said just as the redhead knocked on his door.
She pinched her brow as she looked at me. “Oh,” she said, recognition flaring in her glazed eyes. “We don’t need any more headshots or anything. We’re good. You can go.”
I blew out a sharp breath, telling my adrenaline to chill the fuck out. “No, you’re not good. Not even close.”
Her lips popped into an O as she glared at me. Her friend tugged on her arm, trying to get her to go. A shuffling sounded behind the door.
“I’m going to give you this one shot,” I said, just as I heard the doorknob click. “Leave. Walk your ass out of this hotel with a little dignity.”
She popped a hand on her hip. “And if I don’t?”
The door creaked open, and Jansen stood there, eyes darting between the three of us.
“I’ll call security and let them haul you out of here.”
“For what?” she snapped.
I ignored the way Jansen folded his arms over his chest, an amused look on his face that screamed he was dying to know what I’d do next.
Instead, I stepped forward, a few mere inches from the girl’s face. “For threatening to slander one of my players if they deem you unworthy, which trust me, in his case?” I jerked my head toward him without looking. “You absolutely aren’t worthy.”
She gaped at me, all the while her friend was still tugging on her to go.
“Your call,” I said, waiting.
She glanced at Jansen, and one look from him deflated every ounce of arrogance she’d had prior. “Whatever,” she scoffed, then shook off her friend’s hand and stomped past me.
“If I hear a word about this on the sites, it won’t just be me who hunts you down!” I called after her, knowing Langley and Persephone would use all their resources to bring down any lies she may try and post about Jansen. “I have eyes everywhere!”
The girls upped their pace toward the elevator bank around the corner, but the adrenaline in my blood had my hands shaking.
“Well, that may have been the sexiest and most adorable thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Jansen said, his voice all calm tease.
I brought my eyes to his, and something inside me tensed and went loose at the same time. The coldness was still there, but above it laid a layer of intrigue and…something else I couldn’t place.
“Adorable?” I almost hissed. “That woman was planning to slander your name if you didn’t fuck her.” Trash. Absolute trash.
He cocked a brow at me and pushed his back against the door to fully open it. “You look like you could use a drink.”
I gaped up at him, shocked that he hadn’t immediately been offended by the threat from the woman, or at least surprised.
The wind rushed out of me. I wasn’t new to the celebrity athlete lifestyle, but was it such a commonplace occurrence that he wasn’t even fazed by it anymore? God, how hard would that be to deal with? The constant knowledge of if you do the right thing, you still might be damned by the media, by jilted fans.