Hard Tackle: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (22 page)

I
choked back
the mouthful of tea, and laughed nervously. It seemed like an appropriate response. “You… Did you just… What?”

“I want you to marry me,” George said sincerely, as if the suggestion weren’t just a stupid joke. He sounded deadly serious. “I’ll get a ring.”

“You think the lack of a ring is the problem here?” I asked. I liked a big diamond as much as the next girl, but it would have to be damn big to blind me to the strangeness of this situation.

“I haven’t explained, have I? Shit, sorry, my mind’s all over the place right now.”

And now so is mine
.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, I had been minding my own business working in the café and dreaming about meeting a charming Englishman like the ones I’d seen on television. Then Ellie told me to serve George, and the rest was history. In George’s case, it literally would go down in the history books.

I had a story to make me the envy of all my friends. Except I’d never be able to tell them. I couldn’t say yes—obviously—and I wasn’t about to go spreading tales about the new prince proposing to me. The most exciting thing to ever happen to me, and I’d have to take the story to my grave.

“You’re confused,” I said to George. “And clearly very sleep-deprived. Perhaps I should leave.”

“No,” George said quickly. “Give me a chance to explain. I want you to marry me.”

“Yeah, I gathered that much when you proposed.”

“Right, but not because we love each other or anything. I just want us to get married, and then split up soon after.”

My heart sank with disappointment when he admitted he wasn’t in love with me. I knew it was stupid; I wasn’t in love with him either. It was a gut reaction to hearing the words spoken aloud by a crush. That’s all he was. A handsome crush, who was about to be a prince. Or already was a prince. I didn’t know how it worked. The details didn’t seem important.

“Then why get married?” I asked.

“I need the money. I have an inheritance locked up in a trust and I don’t get to claim it until I get married.”

“But you’re a prince now. You won’t need money any more.”

“I plan to abdicate. Give up all the titles and the bullshit that goes with it. But I can only do that if I have another source of money.”

“Some people work for a living,” I said. “Have you thought about that?”

“I need serious money. Millions.”

“What for?”

George paused before answering. He liked to think he could read body language, but two could play at that game. He looked embarrassed; whatever the reason, he didn’t want to tell me.

“I’m broke,” he said eventually. “Nearly, anyway. If I don’t get my hands on that inheritance soon, I’m going to be in real trouble.”

At least he was being honest with me. That still didn’t mean I could go along with this plan. I had far too much going on in my life right now, namely school, paying for school, and all this visa crap hanging over me like—

The visa. If George and I got married, I’d be able to stay in the country easily. I wouldn’t have to go back to America. I wouldn’t have to face the grief I’d get from my mom, and the looks I’d get from my former friends.

God, this could be so perfect.

But I’d be marrying a prince. I’d had enough drama with my last engagement. I wanted a quiet life now, and I wouldn’t get that if we were engaged.

“No,” I said firmly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. It’s too huge.”

“I’d pay you. And you could get a visa to stay here permanently. You’d do well out of the arrangement. Trust me, I stand to inherit a
lot
of money.”

“I’m not all that keen to prostitute myself out.”

“You’d be more like a high-class escort,” George replied. I
thought
it was a joke, but you never could tell with the English. “Look, it doesn’t have to be anything seedy. You can still go to classes as normal. The only difference being that we would have to live together for a bit.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“You know, I really wish you hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm thing.”

I shook my head again, harder this time, as if I might be able to shake it so hard I could turn back time twenty-four hours.

The proposal had been stupid, but the even stupider thing was I was actually considering it. Living here would be a hell of a lot better than living on campus, and if I got my visa, I’d be able to stay here and never go back to America. I’d sure as hell never have to see Stan again.

But Stan was also the reason I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t be engaged again. Not now, maybe not ever.

“No. No, I can’t. You’re a great guy. A really great guy. You’ll find someone else to take you up on your offer.”

“There’s no time. Once I get pulled into the royal bullshit, I’ll be trapped. If I’m already married, they might actually let me live a normal life.”

“There has to be someone else.”

“There was, but it didn’t end well. Besides, I don’t want just anyone. I want you.”

“Why?”’

“I like you. You’re funny, clever, beautiful, annoying. All attributes I look for in a woman. Look, you don’t have to decide now, but I would need an answer soon. Will you think about it?”

I already was thinking about it. Why was I thinking about it? I must be crazy. This was such a bad idea. Even Ellie would say this is too far, and that girl liked to throw caution to the wind.

“I’ll think about it,” I promised. “But don’t get your hopes up.”

“Thank you. You would be doing me a huge favor.”

“Yeah, no shit. I should get out of here, before the press find out where you live.”

“I’ll call one of the security guys from downstairs.”

A man came up to escort me down to a cab. He needn’t have bothered. It was still early, and apparently people liked to sleep in on Saturday mornings because the apartment and the streets were deserted.

I couldn’t get engaged again. That was madness. But this wouldn’t be a real engagement or a real marriage. We would just pretend to be a couple for a few months, and then call it off. I did need the money. Maybe not quite as much as George, but it would help me make a fresh start. That’s what this entire trip had been about after all. Get my head straight and make a clean break. The visa would be icing on the cake.

I needed to talk to Ellie before I did something stupid. My phone vibrated in my purse. Speak of the devil.

“
A
re
you going to do it?” Ellie asked.

“No, of course not. That would be crazy. Wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, just a bit.”

“Completely,” Dani agreed. “Nuts.”

They’d said just what I expected, but I was still disappointed to hear it. In the hour it had taken me to get home, have a shower, and get dressed, I’d warmed up to the idea a bit. It didn’t have to be such a big deal. People got married and divorced all the time, and the wedding could just be a small civil ceremony. No one would ever have to know the sordid details. No one except Ellie and Dani I suppose. And we wouldn’t be the first people in history just to get married for a visa. People did in the US all the time.

“I told him no,” I explained.

“What? Why?” Dani asked incredulously.

“Because… I just… weren’t you listening to anything I just said?”

“Yeah, I heard. A prince just fucking proposed to you. A lush prince at that.”

“Lush is good, right?” I asked Ellie, who often served as my Welsh to American translator. Ellie nodded.

“But you just said it was nuts.”

“It is,” Dani agreed. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it.”

I sighed loudly, and suppressed a smile. That was much more what I wanted to hear. “What about you?” I asked Ellie. “Do you think it’s ‘good crazy’ or ‘bad crazy?’

“I usually serve as the voice of reason next to Dani, but…”

“But?”

“But he’s a fucking prince,” Ellie said, so loudly that my neighbors could probably hear through the thin walls. “I still can’t believe I
spoke
to him last night, and that’s saying nothing of you spending the evening riding his dick.”

“We never had sex,” I said. The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. Now I was in trouble.

“You didn’t sleep with him?” Dani somehow managed to reach a volume even louder than Ellie. Good job most of the floor was probably sleeping off a hangover.

“Finding out I was kissing a prince came as a bit of a shock believe it or not. What would you have done?”

“I’d have dropped to my knees and had my lips around his dick quicker than you could say ‘God save the King.’”

“And I’d have played with his balls,” Ellie added helpfully.

“Look,” Dani said seriously. “If you don’t want to do this, I know one pussy that would be more than happy to ride some royal cock.”

“No,” I said quickly, as a pang of jealousy hit me in the gut. I couldn’t imagine George with Dani or Ellie. I didn’t want to think of him with any other women, come to think of it. “It has to be me.”

“Why?” Dani asked.

“Uh, something about me being American, and how it will be easier to get out of the Royal family side of things.”

“This is fate,” Ellie said. “You have to do it. And him. Most of all, you have to do him.”

‘Yep,” Dani agreed. “Give him one from us.”

“I’m still not doing it,” I insisted.

“What are we missing here?” Ellie asked. “You like him right?”

“Yeah, sure. I barely know him, but he seems nice.”

“And he’s hot,” Dani added.

“He’s easy on the eyes,” I admitted, thinking back to the few glimpses of his chest I’d seen last night through the open buttons. If we got engaged, we wouldn’t
have
to sleep together, but I couldn’t imagine a scenario where I’d be able to resist. Last night, his hand on my thigh had been enough to get me dripping between the legs. What would I do if I saw him get undressed or come out of the shower with only a towel around his waist?

I’d probably drop to my knees and get my lips around his dick quicker than you could say ‘God save the King.’

The physical side definitely wasn’t the problem. I just didn’t want to be engaged again.

“I never told you girls this,” I said, so quietly that the both had to lean in to hear me. “But I was engaged back in the US. Things didn’t end well.”

Ellie wrapped her arms around me and gave me a hug that I didn’t know I needed until I hugged her back. “Sorry sweetie,” she whispered. “That must have been horrible.”

Yeah, it was. And that was my fault. I certainly didn’t deserve anyone’s sympathy.

“I’m fine now,” I said, once Ellie had let go. “I just don’t know if I want to get engaged again.”

“Don’t treat it like an engagement,” Dani said. “You’re just hanging out with a hot guy for a few months, and after that you will go your separate ways. And you’ll be rich. And famous. You could be the next Kim Kardashian.”

“A girl can dream,” I said dryly.

Dani was right. We would just be hanging out for a few months, and then we’d split up. Simple, right? Unless I didn’t want to split up after a few months. Unless I fell in love. If that happened, I’d be completely and utterly screwed.

I
turned
my phone to silent, and slipped out of the apartment before I could be surrounded by photographers.

I made a conscious effort to avoid the news, but that was easier said than done. Going online in any way, shape, or form, was basically off the table, and I had to put headphones in to avoid hearing conversations about me.

No one recognized me wearing a large pair of aviators and keeping my head down, but that wouldn’t last long. I didn’t have a Facebook page, but I had plenty of friends who did. Their photos would soon start popping up, showing me drunk, and with women draped over me.

Then the the sex stories would start. I could just picture the headlines in the tabloids now.

MY NIGHT WITH A PRINCE.

ROYALLY SCREWED.

I SUCKED THE CROWN JEWELS
.

I probably deserved the trashy headlines. It was my fault for sleeping with trashy women.

My phone had already collected hundreds of messages, but none of them were from Sophia, so I ignored them. She’d had a few hours to think about it. How long would she need? Most women would jump at the chance to marry a prince, but apparently Sophia was not ‘most women.’ I knew that already, of course. Sophia was special. Any man would be lucky to have her—even a prince would have to work to earn her affection.

There were other women who would marry me, but I had my heart set on Sophia now. She was the perfect choice.

And she was beautiful. Truly stunning. Was that a good thing? It would certainly make it a lot harder to keep my hands off her for six months, but at least I wouldn’t have to fake my desire for her in public. It was definitely better than being a prince and getting some crappy arranged marriage.

I had to avoid that at all costs. If I accepted a position as heir to the throne, my life would be over. I’d have no freedom. It would be all hand-waving, and ribbon-cutting, and whatever other bullshit the royal family did these days.

If I got married and claimed my inheritance, I could avoid all that. Sophia wasn’t the only option, but she was the only one I wanted.

I didn’t dare call Tabitha in case those bastards at the tabloids were still doing the wiretapping thing, but I did want to see her. As far as I knew, video conferencing was still a fairly secure bet, especially going through a VPN. It was a risk, but it was a risk I had to take. I needed to see Tabitha and Liam. They were the whole reason I was doing this, after all.

I walked to a park where I knew I could get the rare combination of privacy and enough cell phone reception to make a video call. I kept my head down the entire way in case someone recognized me. Did people actually recognize famous faces on the street? I never did, but then I was shit with faces. I hadn’t even recognized that actress until we’d finished the deed, and she’d started talking about her Oscar win. I was fairly certain I could bump into Lady Gaga wearing a dress made of meat and I wouldn’t recognize her.

I tried calling, but no answer. Of course there was no answer—she was eight hours behind and it was the middle of the night there. My brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders.

Still no message from Sophia. Once again, I thought about asking someone else to help me out, but I couldn’t imagine it not being Sophia. I wanted to parade her around as my fiancée, and show her off to my friends. I wanted to go on television and tell the world that I was renouncing my claim to the throne because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Sophia.

Alright, so I’d look like a bit of a tit when we split up six months later, but we’d have fun in the meantime.

My proposal this morning hadn’t exactly been the stuff of fairy tales, even if marrying a prince was.

I just had to convince Sophia that this engagement and marriage was the right thing for both of us. She probably needed the money almost as much as I did. Students who worked part-time in coffee shops weren’t usually sleeping on mattresses stuffed with £50 notes after all. Not to mention, education in America was expensive, from what I’d heard. She’d have a fuck-tonne of debt that I could clear for her.

And she’d mentioned a visa. Sophia wanted to stay in the country after her studies. If she married me, getting a visa would be a formality. It was a win-win. I just needed to show her that.

“
O
h my God
, is that him?”

“Where do I know him from?”

“He sure looks like that prince.”

My disguise didn’t pass muster close up in a crowded jewelry store. Within seconds, the gossip started, and phones were held in front of faces to record the moment for posterity.

The manager of the story noticed the commotion—and the reason for it—and quickly came over to help.

“Close the store,” I demanded.

Might as well make the most of this ‘being a prince’ thing.

“Yes, sir,” the man said, before immediately ushering customers out of the store, and then locking the door. “It’s an absolute honor—”

“—to have me in the store. Yes, I’m sure it is. I’m here to buy a ring.”

“What type of ring?”

“An engagement ring.”

I thought it was only in cartoons when pound signs appeared in people’s eyes, but apparently not. At least I’d made one person happy today.

“Absolutely, sir. I mean, Your Highness.”

I cringed, and suppressed the urge to vomit. That’s why I had to do this. I couldn’t handle spending the rest of my life being referred to as “Your Highness.”

“ ‘Sir’ will do,” I replied. “Now, I’m not sure about all the technical terms, but I want something big and shiny. Something I can’t look directly at for too long without going blind.”

“Yes, sir. Right this way.”

The man disappeared into the back room and came out with a rock the size of Gibraltar.

“Oh yes, that will do nicely.”