Not My Romeo (The Game Changers 1)

An incredulous look crosses her face. Her eyes narrow. Maybe it was something in my tone. Maybe it’s because I’ve insinuated she isn’t a good person.

I give her a nod, and I’m turning to go, when her voice stops me.

“I have one more thing for you.” There’s a sly look on her face, and I cringe, once again disappointed in myself for being blind when I dated her.

“What?”

She stands gracefully, hips never missing a seductive sway as she glides over to me, her wineglass in her hands. She drains the liquid and sets it back on the table. Gone are the traces of her tears, yet there’s a hint of desperation on her face. “That girl in the video? Elena Riley. The librarian.”

I stiffen. She’s done her homework. “What about her?”

She laughs, and unease creeps over me.

“Stay away from her, Sophia.”

Her features harden. “I couldn’t care less about that ordinary girl. I just can’t believe you’re with her. Especially considering who she is.” She gives me a knowing smile, a glint of something in her gaze I can’t read.

“What about her?” I snap. “What game are you playing?”

A brittle laugh comes from her. “Oh, it’s so good, what I know about her, but I’m not going to tell you. You’ll figure it out on your own soon enough, I bet.”

“Tell me what?” I grind out.

Swiftly, she grabs her purse, an effortless motion. Her face is smug.

My heart beats harder than it should.

“Sophia, tell me what you mean.”

She brushes past me, her hands dragging across my shoulders. Another laugh. “Don’t trust her, Jack. She isn’t who she says she is. Think about that. That’s my gift to you today.”

My body tightens as she sashays away, a clever smile on her lips. She breezes out the door and out of my life forever, and I swallow thickly. Relief and victory are mine. So why do I feel like something just went horribly wrong? A heaviness settles on my chest, like a boulder that I can’t push off.

What did she mean about Elena? What kind of betrayal was she insinuating? Did she mean the lingerie or something more sinister?

Don’t trust her, I say in my head, and it plays over and over.

I freeze, shaking myself.

Wait. Who am I thinking about not trusting—Sophia or Elena?

I can trust Elena.

Right?

After talking briefly to Lawrence and my attorney, I get in my car, my mind churning, trying to figure out what Sophia was getting at.

She isn’t who she says she is.

A text comes in. Elena. I let out a sigh of relief, needing a distraction from the emotional roller coaster that is Sophia.

You all done?

Yeah. All over. So glad.

Great.

I stare at her words.

Things haven’t been easy between us these past few days, and part of it was Sophia, and the other part was . . . me.

Maybe I need to take a breath and reassess.

Don’t trust her, she said.

But . . .

Fuck.

I want . . .

Elena.

You’ll never commit to her either, a small voice murmurs in my head, and once she figures it out, she’s going to kick you to the curb so hard, and you might not get up.

Stop.

I lock those thoughts down.

My throat feels dry as I twist the top off a bottle of water in the Porsche and chug it down. I need to see her.

Meet me at the penthouse.

Can’t. I’m at work plus play practice is at seven. Are you coming?

I’ve been so caught up in worry over this meeting that rehearsal was an afterthought.

Right. I’ll head to your house. Meet you there before practice.

Are you okay?

Am I?

I will be when I see you.

I set the phone down and start the car.

After an errand at the hardware store, I’m on the road toward Daisy and playing back Sophia’s words.

Is there something in Elena’s past she hasn’t told me?

No. I toss that idea out.

Still . . .

My teeth grit. A seed of doubt is building and growing inside me, snaking around my . . . heart.

Feeling anxious and harried, I park my car in her driveway and jog up to her door, knocking briefly and going inside. I’ve spent the last two nights here. We’ve spent long hours in her bed, talking and making love. I’ve never been this . . . desperate for a girl. I’ve given her more than I have anyone. No NDA. No holding back about who I really am. She knows about my shoulder. Fear snakes over me, and I shove it down.

I stalk in, feeling off, sweeping the room.

“In the bedroom,” she calls, and I walk down the hall and open her cracked door.

She’s standing at the foot of the bed. Hot as hell. Black lace thong is on her ass, a lace bra hugging her breasts. I shut the door firmly, wondering where Topher is. Probably upstairs.

Focus, man.