Chapter Seventeen

“Ticket, sir?”

I smile and hand over my ticket and passport. Her eyes widen as she reads my name but she recovers quickly, tapping my details into her computer. I smile, ignoring the small crowd of paparazzi trying to get a picture of me.

She hands my ticket and passport back to me. “Enjoy your flight, Mr Stevens.”

It was actually Matt’s idea—not that I go to the States to surprise Scarlett and Jake—that was all mine, but to do some work with my sponsors while I was injured.

For three weeks starting on Monday, I’ll be helping kids at a tennis camp for young elite athletes. The camp is conveniently located in Chicago, where Scarlett happens to live.

Her advice for me to do something different had hit a nerve. Mentoring kids isn’t something I’d ever really considered doing, but the chance to be close to her—even only for a few weeks—was too good to pass up.

 

I walk through departures and into the first-class lounge, stopping at a newsstand on the way. I pick up a copy of The Daily Mail and hand the attendant some change.

She smirks at me. “Your girlfriend not with you?”

“Pardon?” I ask. For a moment I think she’s confused, but then I see it. I pick up the magazine and groan. “Bad Boy’s New Romance” is splashed across a photo of Scarlett and me kissing. I recognize the setting from our walk along the river. I look at the date on the magazine and realize it’s been out for nearly a week.

I snatch up my paper and stalk off. Has she seen this? No. She would’ve said something if she’d seen it. I’m nervous because I have no idea how she is going to react to being an international news story. I sit down for less than five minutes when my flight is called for boarding.

On the flight I try to sleep. The people who can afford to travel first class tend not to give a shit about me, which is good because I’m not in the mood to socialize with fans.

“Sir, wake up.”

I stir and open my eyes.

The flight attendant smiles at me. “It’s time to disembark,” she explains.

Huh. I slept through not only the entire flight, but also the landing. Grabbing my carry-on, I exit the plane. I’m the last person to leave, so when I reach customs, it’s almost empty.

I’m out of the terminal with my luggage in record time. Flagging down a taxi, I give him Scarlett’s address. I should go to my hotel so I can shower and change, but I don’t want to wait another second to see her.

I chuckle to myself, which earns me an odd look from the driver in the rear view mirror. I’m amused because this is so unlike me. This woman has me whipped—and bad, at that.

My heart begins to pound as we near her house. I know it’s close because I have it plugged into the GPS on my phone—I don’t even trust taxi drivers in my own country, let alone when I’m travelling.

God, I hope she’s happy to see me.

Not telling her I was coming was a huge fucking deal. Fuck, flying halfway across the world to see a woman is a huge deal. Because let’s face it: we all know the camp bullshit is just a cover, an excuse for me not to look like the desperate sap that I am.

The taxi pulls up outside a brownstone house with a white picket fence. I glance around as I walk down the path, taking in the manicured gardens, the identical houses, and the wide, tree lined street. It was much nicer than I’d been expecting. The way she’d described it, it had sounded like the ghetto.

I take a deep breath and knock on the heavy wooden door.

It opens and there she is. My heart races as I stand there, waiting for her to say something. Her eyes widen in shock, but not the good kind. She’s terrified. I’m confused, because this is not the reaction I’d been playing over in my mind.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice is low. She’s trembling as she steps forward and pulls the door over, blocking my view inside.

I’m so stunned I don’t even know how to answer. “I…I wanted to surprise you.” I feel like an idiot, because it’s obvious I’m not welcome. She is not happy to see me.

“You need to leave. Now,” she hisses. Her green eyes are glassy, like she’s been crying.

I can’t figure this out. I feel like I’m missing some major piece of the puzzle. “What the hell is going on, Scarlett?” I ask, confused.

What the fuck is this?

“Who is it, Scar?” a voice calls out. A male voice.

Her eyes meet mine just as a tall, clean-shaven man walks up and wraps his arm around her waist. My jaw twitches as he kisses her on the cheek and she lets him.

My eyes meet hers and I laugh. She’s about to burst into tears and I find that fucking hilarious. She’s fucking upset? I shake my head, trying to control my rage. I feel so fucking betrayed. I’m beyond angry. I’m fucking livid.

“Nobody,” I mutter. I laugh and run my hand through my hair.

This is un-fucking-believable.

I shake my head and turn to walk down the footpath. I turn around and look at her one last time. “I’m just a man trying to sell something she obviously doesn’t want.”

End of Volume One. Volume Two releasing on the 16th of September.

 

 

Other books by Missy Johnson

Out of Reach (See next page for an except)

Wicked Innocence

The Tease Series

Beautiful Rose

Provoke

Always You

Desire

So Many Reasons Why