The Defender (Gods of the Game, #2)

by Ana Huang

It wasn’t even about the lack of romance in my life; it was about being someone’s priority. Having an anchor. Knowing there was a person out there who would be my first call if shit went down and vice versa.

I was a balloon drifting aimlessly through the crowd while everyone around me found their tethers.

“Don’t sound so happy to see me, buttercup. I’ll get the wrong idea.” I suppressed a laugh at Brooklyn’s eye roll.

Brooklyn may look angelic, but she had the tongue of a viper. It was oddly attractive. I shouldn’t enjoy verbally sparring with her so much. She was the manager’s daughter, which meant he would rip my balls off if I looked at her the wrong way. On top of that, she was one of my sister’s best friends, which meant Scarlett would also rip my balls off if I looked at her the wrong way. It was a lot of potential danger for one girl. The problem was, I’d never liked playing it safe.

He was like the moon to my tide; his mere presence altered my gravitational field.

“Who’s the one who can’t control themself now?” “I never said I could control myself around you.”

As perfect as he seemed on paper, I wasn’t interested in Mason like that, and I would want someone to tell me the truth if I were in his position. Vincent didn’t respond. But I swore I saw a shadow of a smile linger on his mouth for the rest of our ride home.

“The reason is because I couldn’t stop thinking about you while I was gone. Then I come home to see you sitting there, doing nothing except existing, and I can’t fucking breathe.” His voice was low and taut. “Maybe you were right. I am pissed at you because you can float through the kitchen, making pancakes and cracking jokes, while I’m using every goddamn ounce of willpower not to touch you. That’s why I don’t want to be around you. You’re killing me, and you don’t even know it.”

“Then why’d you stay?” “Because I can’t fucking say no to you if I tried.”

It was…fuck, it was her. Every piece and facet of her. They shone so brightly I couldn’t look away. The truth had always been there, waiting for its moment in the sun. It’d compelled me to invite her to Budapest even though I knew it was a bad idea, and it’d made me want to kill anyone who made her cry. But I’d never been able to put my finger on it until now. Fuck. Me. I wasn’t just infatuated with her. I⁠—

“Brooklyn.” I lowered my voice, my throat strained. “I’d lose every single fucking bet in the world if it meant I could be with you.”

Her smile faded as the silence of the moment coiled around us, tight and breathless with anticipation. “You ruin me,” I said, my voice barely there. Then I leaned in, my lips brushing hers in the softest of kisses, and my ruination was complete.

And as we walked back to my car, her hand in mine, I realized that the most dangerous person in my world wasn’t the intruder or my birth mom or any rival footballer. It was Brooklyn, because she was the only person alive with the power to unravel me.

“Getting needy already, DuBois?” “I always need you.”

“Je serais toujours là pour toi, mon coeur. Quoiqu'il arrive.”

“If anything happened to you, I wouldn’t survive. Do you understand? Tu es plus que mon cœur. Tu es mon tout.”

“I understood the risks. It was early in the process, but if push came to shove, and I had to choose between you and Blackcastle?” My voice turned tender. “I’d choose you. Every time. Because you’re it for me, Brooklyn Armstrong. There’s nothing and no one else I love more.”