The Striker (Gods of the Game, #1)

by Ana Huang

I didn’t know much about Scarlett DuBois, but given she was related to Vincent, I knew one thing: I wasn’t going to like her. At all.

I didn’t wish for much outside the realm of football, but I’d give up one of my cars to see her again. Maybe. Possibly. Definitely.

“However, I have to commend you on achieving something that I thought was impossible.” “What’s that?” “Making me like someone with the last name DuBois.” I rolled my eyes even as I fought an exasperated laugh. “You are an incorrigible flirt.” “Flirt? Yes. Incorrigible? That’s a matter of opinion.”

“Before you say anything else, this…” I gestured between us. “Ends now.” Amusement slid across his infuriatingly perfect face. “What’s this?” “The flirting. It’s unprofessional.” “I’m afraid flirting is part of my nature, darling.”

If the way he said darling was illegal, the velvety intimacy with which he uttered my name was downright sinful.

“Don’t even think about it.” Vincent’s sharp tone brought my attention back to him. “I saw the way you were looking at her,” he said when I raised a questioning brow. “Touch my sister, and you’re dead.” “Drop the overprotective brother bit, DuBois. It’s cliché.” “I’m just giving you a friendly warning.” There wasn’t an ounce of friendliness in his expression. “Scarlett is off limits.” “Scarlett can speak for herself.”

“I’m a ballerina. I live by rules.” “That’s too bad.” The light finally turned green, and I broke eye contact to focus on the road. “You’d have more fun without them.”

For someone whose mere presence put me on edge, he had a way of also easing my anxiety—namely by distracting me so much I didn’t have time to think about anything else.

“You’re telling me the Asher Donovan has nothing better to do with his time than drop by a ballet academy?” A shadow flickered in those crystalline green eyes. “I have other things I could do,” he said. “I wouldn’t say they’re better.”

I didn’t have the energy to argue. I also didn’t make a habit of trusting anyone outside my family and Carina, but in that moment, it was hard to remember why I should keep Asher at arm’s length.

“Shit. I forgot how high-impact running is. It’s not good for chronic pain, is it?” The warmth in my veins melted into honey. Hell, everything melted. At this rate, they’d have to scrape me off the driveway with a spatula. “You looked up chronic pain?” A wash of dull red colored Asher’s cheekbones. “Out of curiosity, that’s all,” he said. “I didn’t know much about it, so I figured I should learn the basics. Obviously.” “Obviously.”

“Why did you transfer? You were doing so well at Holchester.” “Two hundred fifty million pounds is a lot of money.” “It is, but I don’t think that’s the only reason.” “Why not?” “You don’t strike me as someone who’d do something solely for a paycheck.”

I have too much pride to love something that doesn’t love me back.”

If her smile was a burglar, her laugh was a fucking thief because I was pretty sure she just stole a piece of my heart from right out under me.

I didn’t care if she was livid with me. I’d let someone I cared about down once; I wasn’t going to do it again. Scarlett wasn’t my best friend, girlfriend, or family, but I didn’t need a label to know that I did care about her.

So maybe I was stepping over the line with what I had to say next, but I wouldn’t be a friend if I didn’t point it out—and I did consider her a friend, even if that sentiment wasn’t reciprocated.

“I think you’re capable of more than you give yourself credit for,” I said. “But at the end of the day, you have to ask yourself what you’d regret more—trying and failing, or not trying at all?”

Late-night existential crises were the worst.

“I hate to interrupt your ogling, but can you please get up? As much as I love having you on top of me, this tile wasn’t designed for comfort.”

“Bold and erroneous of you to assume we’d still be talking in fifty years.” “Stranger things have happened. If you’re lucky, it might even be seventy.”

“Sorry, but tonight’s a book-and-bed type of night,”

She was the only thing I could think about before sleeping, after waking up, while showering, and basically during any activity I used to try and forget her.

She’d given us both the wake-up call we needed, so I ignored the cramp in my chest and carried on with my training.

my thoughts returned to where they always went. Back to her. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.