18. Lorelei

18

LORELEI

" I nsufferable asshole," I mutter as I march from his office with my cell in my hand.

The coolness of the tiles beneath my feet works its way up my body and I shiver.

I can't even leave…

Ignoring the jerk I just left behind, I pull up my contacts and hit call on Wilder's number.

It only rings once before his deep voice fills the line.

He was waiting for me. He always is before a game.

"Hey, are you ready?" I ask.

"It's a big night. They were our worst loss last season."

"That was last season. You're a better team than you were then."

"So are they," he says nervously.

"Then the win you're about to take will only be sweeter."

"Lor," he warns.

He secretly loves my positivity before his games. It's the reason he has this little pregame ritual.

"How are those cleats?" I ask.

"Oh my god, they are the best." So they should be, for what they cost. "Thank you so much."

"They're gonna get you this win. I just know it."

He blows out a long, nervous breath that makes butterflies erupt in my own stomach.

It doesn't matter how many games he plays, how many touchdowns he scores, or how many wins he gets under his belt, I am always a nervous wreck for him.

As much as I hate being so far away from them, on game nights, I can't help but think it's probably for the best. I have never been more stressed than sitting in those stands, watching Wilder get taken down from every which way while the timer counts down, ready to decide their fate.

"There are scouts, Lor," he says quietly. "They?—"

"Wilder," I snap, trying to drag him from his panic. "You are the best football player I've ever seen." No need to mention that I never watched a single game until he started playing. "Forget about everything but the game. Focus on the ball, on your plays. Even if this one doesn't go the way you hope, your skills and talent will still shine through."

"I want this so bad," he confesses.

"I know you do. And you're going to get it."

"Fuck," he huffs.

"I believe in you, Wild Child. Rix does too. He's in the stands waiting for you to come out."

"I know. I know."

My free hand curls into a fist. I wish there was more I could do to reassure him.

"You'll be watching, yeah?"

Guilt twists up my stomach.

I want to. I watch every single game.

Glancing up, I gaze down the hallway that will lead me back toward Kian.

"I've got to work late, but I'll have it on my phone," I say, unable to lie to him. "I'll be right there with you, okay?"

"Yeah," he says quietly.

"You've got this, Wilder. You're going to kill it."

He falls silent, and my nerves quadruple for him.

There's noise down the line and he sighs. "I need to go."

"I love you. I can't wait to see you."

"I love you too, Lor. Come visit us soon, yeah? I want to see you in the stands again."

My heart constricts.

"I'll be there, I promise. Message me later, yeah?"

"Might be too busy partying," he says with a laugh.

Shaking my head, I can't fight the smile that spreads across my face.

"Bye, Lor. Love you," he says again before hanging up on me.

"Love you too," I add as I lower my cell from my ear.

I'm still smiling when I turn back toward Kian's office.

But it falls the second I find him standing there, watching me closely.

"Who was that?" he asks.

"What the hell has that got to do with you?" I hiss, all the happy feels vanishing.

His eyes narrow as he studies me. There's a silent warning there, which I choose to ignore.

"Excuse me, we've got work to do, and I for one don't plan on spending my entire Friday night with my boss."

I take off in his direction, refusing to cower to his demands or the look in his eyes.

"I thought you were single."

"And I thought you were my boss, not my father."

He's standing right in front of the door, refusing to allow me entry, but I'm not the kind of woman who'll be stopped by a man with more muscle in one arm than I possess in my entire body.

"Excuse me," I say again, attempting to squeeze between his massive body and the doorframe.

My arm burns red hot the second my bare skin brushes against the soft cotton of his shirt. But that reaction is nothing compared to when I press the length of my body against his side to squeeze past him.

Closing my eyes, I ignore the sparks that shoot around my body.

I've almost done it. I'm almost past him and back into the room when he suddenly turns and wraps his hand around my upper arm.

Twisting me around, he backs me up against the door, his hard eyes boring into mine.

"Who were you talking to?" he asks darkly.

A smile curls at my lips as I remember the final words I said to Wilder.

I shake my head, unable to believe what my brain is conjuring up right now.

"Are you…are you jealous, sir?" I ask, tilting my head to the side, silently mocking him.

His jaw tightens, a vein I haven't seen before popping up at his temple.

"I want to know who's important enough to stop you mid-task."

"It's Friday night, Kian. I shouldn't even be here right now."

"You agreed to stay and work."

"Yeah," I say, a bitter laugh following the word. "But I'm wondering why I bothered. It's a bullshit task we're doing right now."

"No," he growls, making my skin erupt with goosebumps.

"It is. You just want to prove Kingston wrong. But it's pointless. He's going to do whatever the hell he wants. He doesn't care what you say about the figures."

His eyes darken, letting me know that I've just hit on something.

"He will make the right business decision," he argues, although it's weak. He knows I'm right. He's just desperately trying to cling to some authority when it comes to his brother.

"Whatever you say. Can you let go of me now?"

His grip loosens a little, but he doesn't release me. Instead, his other hand comes up to rest on the door beside my head, effectively caging me in.

I lift my chin, refusing to show any kind of weakness.

"I'm going to ask you one more time." I roll my eyes and his expression hardens. I'm pretty sure he's seconds from losing his shit. And I am here for it.

I smirk, already hearing his question in my ears.

"Who were you talking to?"

"You're an insufferable asshole, you know that?" I say, ripping myself from his grip and quickly ducking under his arm, marching deeper into the room to resume the task at hand.

"Lorelei," he rasps.

Fuck. The sound of it does all kinds of things it shouldn't between my legs.

"What, Kian?" I snap, my patience giving out.

I look up and my eyes instantly lock onto his dark, angry ones as he stands before me with his arms crossed over his chest.

Oh, he's pissed. He's really fucking pissed.

And damn, if it doesn't look hot on him.

Heat surges through my veins as I sit on my knees staring up at him.

An image I really don't need of me crawling toward him suddenly pops into my head, and I fight to banish it.

Not fucking appropriate, Lorelei.

With an irritated huff, I decide to just give in. If I want to watch even a second of Wilder's game, then I'm going to have to come clean anyway.

"My little brother," I state. "Happy now?"

He blinks. Once. Twice. Three times.

O-oh, he was not expecting that.

How cute.

"Careful, Kian. You look awfully close to losing control right now."

I smile up at him innocently.

"Just get back to work, Lorelei," he hisses before turning on his heels and marching from the room.

"Well then," I mutter to myself once the door has closed behind him.

Waking my cell up, I find the app that will allow me to watch a live stream of Wilder's game that's due to start any minute, and I prop it up so I can see as I return to the endless sheets of paper, showcasing what has to be the most depressing set of company accounts that I've ever seen.

Kian is gone longer than I was expecting, and I can't help but feel smug about riling him up so much that he had to go and have a serious word with himself.

Good. Fucker deserves to give himself a dressing down for his overbearing behavior.

The game starts and I quickly forget about the paperwork, instead focusing on the tiny players running around my screen.

It's almost impossible to identify any of Wilder's teammates, but I can spot my little brother from a mile away, and from the second the whistle blew, he's been on it.

"Yes," I hiss when he makes a pass that earns them the first touchdown of the game. "You can do this. Make those scouts proud, baby."

I startle when a throat clearing on the other side of the room rips through the air.

"Shit," I mutter before glancing nervously at my cell.

Kian takes a step forward, and the unmistakable scent of takeout fills the room. My stomach almost immediately rumbles.

"What are you doing?" I ask as he clears off the coffee table before me and places the bag on it.

"I ordered us dinner," he says simply, as if the event that sent him running from his office never happened. "What are you watching?"

I climb to my feet, taking my cell with me.

"Umm…hey?" I complain when he snatches my cell to look for himself.

"At least it's not porn," he deadpans, making my cheeks blaze, before tapping on my screen.

"What the hell are you—" My words trail off as the huge flat screen on the opposite wall lights up and Wilder's game appears before me.

The players are no longer unrecognizable little ants on the screen. Now they all have limbs, and I can even make out the names and numbers on their jerseys.

"Which one is your brother?" Kian asks.

"Seriously?" I balk, blindly dropping onto the couch beside him as my eyes track Wilder across the screen.

"Protective much?" Kian mutters as he begins unloading the bagful of food.

"Don't start. You have no idea what our?—"

"I'm sorry."

I rear back. "Y-you're?—"

"Sorry," he repeats.

"Right. Okay," I mutter, unsure what to do with that apology.

"Eat," he demands, sounding much more like himself.

Unable to deny the lure of good Chinese, I select a container and grab…"Chopsticks, really?"

Kian shrugs one shoulder.

"If you're going to do something, Lorelei, then you should do it properly," he states.

"I agree, and to eat properly, I need a knife and fork."

"Sorry, we're going authentic tonight," he explains as if this isn't the only time we're going to be eating dinner together.

I don't remember that being in the job description.

"Brilliant," I mutter, attempting to wrangle the two sticks into submission as a cheer goes up around the room.

I look up and immediately jump to my feet, screaming at the TV as Wilder makes a touchdown.

"What?" I ask once I've calmed down and find Kian staring up at me with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Don't worry, I caught the chow mein before it hit the floor," he says, lifting the container to show me.

"Oh shit, that was on my lap."

He grins. "Maybe I'll just eat it all myself."

"Oh hell no. I'm starving. I'll figure these bad boys out even if it kills me," I say, retaking my seat and attempting to copy his hold on the sticks.

He smirks at me before expertly collecting up rice and pushing it past his lips without dropping a single grain.

"How?" I ask in disbelief. I can't even pick up a vegetable.

"We spent a few weeks in China when were kids and?—"

"Of course you did," I mutter, unable to contain my eye roll.

"Here, let me show you," he offers, scooting closer and wrapping his arm around me.