Maisey Yates - Six Of The Best Of Desire 2016

Theo cleared his throat. “New York. Jean-Pierre is the starting quarterback for the New York Gladiators.” Pride pierced his words, and he lifted his eyes to meet Leon’s. So he did care, Erika thought. It was just masked.

She wished it was that easy to tell what was going on with Gervais. Nothing he’d said so far betrayed any level of an emotional depth. Just sex. But that wasn’t enough for her. And that was the reason she hadn’t been able to help but pull away the night before.

Last night when she’d gone to him, she’d believed he might really care for her. Sure, the sex was great and he wanted to provide for their children. But she’d started to think that he also genuinely liked her, sex and children aside.

Before then, she’d been so sure of him. Of the decision she was close to making.

As she sat in the owners’ box again, she realized she couldn’t stop replaying seeing the bed empty when she woke up, knowing it was her fault for pushing him away but not knowing what she could have done differently. Erika would have continued to analyze the situation if it wasn’t for the approach of Liv, her sister. The one that had been through the sex tape fiasco.

The scandal had almost cost Liv everything.

Liv narrowed her gunmetal eyes at Erika, pinning her. She sat next to Erika, hands firmly grasping the wineglass’s stem. The smell of alcohol assaulted Erika’s sense of smell, turning her stomach sour.

“Sister,” she said lazily, “this family...”

Erika straightened, finishing the sentence for her. “Is filled with wonderful, loving people.”

Liv nodded solemnly. “Yes. And how do you say—American royalty?”

Erika’s eyes remained out toward the field, toward where Gervais stood with a reporter giving an interview, players and photographers around them. She would not be dignifying her sister’s comment with a response.

“All I am trying to say, dear sister, is that you need to be here. You could be royalty for real if you did.” Liv’s words, spoken in a hushed tone, had a bit of a slur to them.

“That’s not what matters to me. What matters is—” But the words caught in her throat as she watched Gervais get hit by two men locked in a tackle. Gervais was on the sidelines, knocked to his feet, his bare skull slamming back into the ground. Hard. Tackled on the sidelines with no equipment.

She barely registered what the Mitrases or the Reynauds were doing. In an instant, the panic that stayed her breath and speech was replaced by a need to move. A need for action. The damn need to get to his side.

Pushing her way to the door that led down to the stands, she ran smack into James, the security guard who had first alerted them that the whole Mitras clan was arriving. He stood at the door to the tunnels leading through the bowels of the stadium and out onto the field. His credentials were clipped to his jacket, a communication piece in his ear. “Princess, I am afraid I can’t allow you onto the field. Please wait here. I promise to keep you updated about Mr. Reynaud.”

James put a hand on her shoulder. Consoling? Or to restrain? Either way, it didn’t matter to her because this man kept her from Gervais.

Years of practice drills during her time in the military pressed her muscles into action. Without sparing a second thought, she grabbed his hand and bent back his pinkie. A minor move but one that could quickly drive a man to his knees if she pushed farther. “James, I am a nurse, but I am also former military. I can flip you onto your back in a heartbeat and you cannot—will not—fight me because I am pregnant. Now, we can do this simply or we can make this difficult, but one way or another, I am going to Gervais.”

James’s eyes narrowed, then he exhaled through gritted teeth. “I could lose my job for this.” He shook his head, rolling his eyes. “But come with me. You’ll need my credentials to get through to the field.”

She bit her lip hard in relief. “Thank you.”

“Um, ma’am, could you let go of my pinkie?”

“Oh.” She blinked fast, having forgotten she’d even still held him pinned. She released his hand and stepped back.

Wincing, he shook his hand. “Follow me.”

She followed him through the corridors, urging him to go faster and barely allowing herself to breathe until she saw Gervais with her own eyes. He waved off his personal security team as soon as she came into sight, his face twisted in pain as the team doctor shone a small flashlight in front of his eyes, checking his pupils.

Her medical training came to the fore and took in his pale face. He sat on the ground, upright, and was not swaying. His respiration was even, steady. Reassuring signs. Her heart slowed from a gallop. He would need a more thorough exam, certainly, but at least he was conscious. Cognizant.

“Gervais? Are you okay?” Erika knelt beside him, then turned to the team’s doctor, her voice calm and collected now. “Is he all right?”

On the field beside him, the game continued, the fans cheering over a play while Erika’s focus remained on Gervais and all that mattered to her.

“I’m fine,” Gervais growled, then winced, pressing his hand to the back of his head.

The doctor tucked away his flashlight into his bag. “He’s injured, no question, given the size of that goose egg coming up. Probably a concussion. He should go to the emergency room to be checked over.”

“Then let us go.” She barked the command at the doctor. Meanwhile, the game had resumed playing, and she trailed behind him.

As she stepped out of the arena with Gervais, leaving her family behind, reality crashed into her. Her heart was in her throat for this man. He was the father of her children. But she barely knew him and already he’d turned her world upside down. She felt as if she, too, had taken a blow to the head and her judgment was scrambled. How could she care so much so soon?

What was she doing here? She had started to love him, but maybe she just loved the surface image. Maybe she’d done what her family had done—just looked at the surface. After all, he’d offered no feelings, no emotions to her. Just convenient arrangements for their children and sex. His marriage proposal had never included mention of love.

And she couldn’t settle for less than everything from him, just as she wanted to give him her all.

What if in spite of all logic, she had fallen in love with him and he could never offer her his full heart?

* * *

There were only a few times in his life that Gervais had felt extreme elation and intense concern all at the same time. This was certainly being added to that tally.

Later that night as he stretched out in his own bed, Erika hovering, he was still replaying that moment Erika had rushed out to him. His head throbbed but his memories were crystal clear.

Watching Erika care enough about him to rush to his side filled him with a renewed purpose. He’d been blown away and more than a little unnerved watching her rush to his side, somehow having persuaded James to let her through security and out onto the field.

Make no mistake, he always wanted her there. By his side. But he didn’t want any harm to come to her or their children, either. The thought of harm befalling her or their children by her own rash actions gnawed at him. The security was there for a reason. God, she was everything to him. Everything. And he wasn’t sure how he could have missed out on realizing the depth of that.

They could be so good together, but it also seemed as if the risk of her pulling back was at an all-time high. All of her interactions with him since the CT scan came back had been rigid. Formalized. As if she was a nurse doing a job, not a woman tending to her lover.

That reaction clapped him upside the head harder than the wall of a football player that had crashed into him. Her reactions didn’t add up. She had been so upset on the sidelines, so freaked out about what was happening to him. And now she was answering in snippets of sentences. He didn’t want to upset her more, or keep her awake all night. But his family had been in and out of the room for hours. It was nearing morning before he finally had a moment alone with her.