Chapter Seventeen

Violet

“Sold a photo?” I lick my lips and hope I don’t sound as nervous to Lucas as I do myself. And oh my God, does he even know I’m related to his agent? It’s never come up in conversation. Why would it? Who explains their family tree to a new boyfriend?

Lucas isn’t really my boyfriend. I ignore the little stab through my heart, because pretending something is real, doesn’t make it so.

My mind flies back to the other night when we left the restaurant, and I was the worse for drink. Heat sears my cheeks. Did Bec call because of me? Has she said anything to Mum yet?

How humiliating to be splashed across the Sunday newspapers when I could hardly stand up straight.

“Don’t worry.” He kisses my knuckles, which sends warm tremors through my chest. “I don’t think your name’s mentioned. Bec would’ve said something, otherwise.”

I stop myself from sagging with relief, and not because they didn’t get a good shot of me. “You know Bec and my mum are cousins, then?”

“Yep. Do you want a cup of tea?”

He obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, so I nod. “Love one, thanks.”

He gives me a leisurely kiss, and I wind my arms around him. If there’s an option between tea and sex, then there’s no choice. I can drink tea any time.

His thirst must be greater than mine as he pulls back. “Hold that thought.” His voice is a sexy rumble as he pushes my hair back from my face. “I’ll be right back.”

He stands and stretches, his muscles bunching and flexing like a work of art. And his tight butt is a miracle of human perfection. I’m still smiling to myself when he pulls on a pair of boxer briefs and saunters out of the room.

I spy the saucy camisole I wore—briefly—to bed last night, and quickly tug it on before fishing my phone out of my bag to check for any messages.

Cross-legged on the bed, I chew my lip and glance at the half-open door. Why would Bec call him just to tell him he was in the papers? He’s always in the gossip columns. I search for the most salacious one, and sure enough, there’s the headline.

Lucas Carter’s Mystery Date

The photo beneath the heading shows Lucas, looking as hot as hell even though he doesn’t have his usual trademark smile, with his arm around me as we left Overton’s. I peer closer, enlarging the photo, but my face is pressed against him, and no one would guess it’s me.

Huh. My panicked heart rate settles. If I can barely recognize myself, there’s no reason why Bec would. Or anyone. Well, Dad might. Not that he follows gossip, but he might make an exception when the footballer in question is Lucas.

I squint at the screen, but it’s impossible to tell I’m clinging onto Lucas to keep myself upright. It looks as though we’re just kind of snuggling.

We were snuggling. I wasn’t that drunk, was I?

Since I’m not entirely sure about that, I push it aside. The important thing is, even if Mum does see this, all she’ll think is we were having a really great time. It’s not like I forgot to wear my knickers and gave the photographer a flash of my fanny, is it?

While his teammates in Harrington United slay the opposition in Hong Kong, Lucas Carter is all about slaying the ladies with his current mystery redhead.

Ugh. Nice. I cringe inside as I read a couple of sentences that scrutinize my dress, shoes, and hair jewelry, and speculation as to why both Lucas and I went to such lengths to hide my face.

Carter, who is recovering from a knee injury in January, was out on the town again on Friday night…

They make it sound like he decided to abandon the tour just so he could enjoy some nightlife. I skim over the paragraph, which is basically all conjecture and rubbish.

Recently, Carter’s star has become eclipsed by that of his brainy twin, Harry, the genius behind Blitz and The Plains of Exitium…

Seriously, who writes this crap? Lucas’s star isn’t eclipsed at all. I glare at the screen and keep seeing the word brainy jump out at me.

It’s not the first time I’ve read an article saying that, but it’s far more annoying than before, because the implication—that Lucas isn’t brainy—is blatant.

I shouldn’t have read it. It’s really pissed me off. They don’t know what they’re talking about. I pull on my jeans, shove my phone in my pocket, and make my way to the kitchen.

He has his back to me, but I can see he’s reading something on his phone, and as I approach he tugs on his earring. A strange pain knifes through my heart. He might not be reading the same article I was, but I’d bet my future degree he was.

“Need some help?” I inject a bouncy note in my voice even though I want to do the author of that article serious damage. Don’t they care that Lucas has feelings?

“Sorry.” He sounds preoccupied, and I want to kiss away the frown that slashes across his forehead. “Got distracted.” He glances down at his phone, and I can’t help myself.

“They’re a bunch of wankers.”

“What?” He shoots me a bemused grin, and I give his phone a disdainful nod.

“If you’re reading the same rubbishy crap I just did. I don’t know how they have the nerve to call themselves journalists.”

“Right.” There’s a guarded tone in his voice, which I hate. “It doesn’t matter. I’m used to it.”

Somehow, that makes me madder than ever, and the injustice burns in my chest. Why should anyone have to get used to being continually compared to their brother?

“It sucks.” So eloquent, Violet. But if I said what I really think, the air would turn purple.

He shrugs then hooks his arm over my shoulder, and I snuggle against him. He’s naked, his skin is warm, and he smells so good I want to push him over the workbench and kiss him all over. I want to take away that resigned look in his eyes. Instead, I catch sight of his phone, and yes, it’s the same article.

Like I didn’t know that already.

The Carter twins, sons of Professor James Carter and the late Professor Madeleine Rose Sinclair, have both done phenomenally well in their chosen careers. But while Lucas’s ability on the pitch has won him many fans, no one can deny it’s Harry who inherited their parents’ brains…

I’m practically speechless, and bubbling with rage. How dare they insinuate—and not very subtly—that Lucas got the bum end of the elite Carter-Sinclair genetic code?

He closes the page and drops his phone onto the workbench. “Don’t worry about it, Violet.” He gives me his famous smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “They’ve never said anything I don’t already know.”

Wait. Is he agreeing with this load of drivel? Why would he do that? Doesn’t he know how great he is? And I’m not talking about his ability on the pitch.

“You can’t be serious. Just because your brother isn’t athletic, doesn’t mean he’s better than you.”

He pulls me closer, and this time his eyes glint with humor. “No one’s ever put it that way before.”

“Well, it’s true.” I’m still fuming over the whole thing. How many times has Lucas had to go through this kind of patronizing fuckery?

“It’s also true Harry’s the smart brother. And Mac’s the brilliant sister.”

“Going to university doesn’t make you a better person than anyone else.”

“I’ve never said Harry’s the better person.” He’s obviously enjoying my defense of him. “And he never went to university. But he got the brains, and I got the brawn.”

I scoff, not sure whether he’s pulling my leg, now. “Your brother didn’t get hit with the ugly stick, so it stands to reason you ended up with your fair share of his brains.” I’m not entirely sure that came out the way I intended, so I cup his jaw in the hope it distracts him from any negative slant he might decide to take from it. “Are you fishing for compliments?”

He tucks my hair behind my ear, and it’s such a gentle, unexpected gesture, that it warms me deep inside. Stop falling so hard for him, Vi…

“I’ve never had to fish for compliments.” If anyone else said that, they’d sound so up themselves. But Lucas just sounds kind of wistful, and a strange ache squeezes my heart. “But at home I was always the odd one out.”

His confession slays me. I know exactly what he means. There’s no logical reason, when I know I’m as much part of Dad’s family and relatives as my half-brother, but sometimes I get a pang when I see Mum, Dad, and Sam together. The three legit Hendersons.

“You know,” I say softly, “it was probably all in your mind. I bet the rest of your family never thought that about you.”

He appears to consider that, almost as though it’s never occurred to him before. “You could be right.”

“Of course, I’m right. Trust me, I would’ve noticed if your brother or sister were being snotty about you that night I met them.”

He gives a huh of laughter. “None of my family’s snotty. Just highly intellectual.”

I stroke his jaw, loving the way his overnight stubble grazes my palm. “That’s not their fault. They can’t help it.”

“That’s true,” he concedes. “Genetics are a strange thing.”

“And so are families.”

“Are we still talking about my family?” He winds a length of my hair around his finger. “Because yours seems solid.”

I want you to meet them.

Luckily, I don’t say that out loud, as I don’t want him running for the hills. I dated Geoff for three months before he met my parents.

Wait, I haven’t talked that much about my family, have I? Yet somehow Lucas picked up that we’re solid.

That shouldn’t thrill me as much as it does, but I can’t help it. He really does listen, and although I’m over comparing him to my ex, Katie has often moaned about how her boyfriends never hear anything she says.

“We are solid. It’s not that. It’s just sometimes I wish I was Dad’s real daughter, you know?”

“I thought you were, the way you’ve talked about him.”

“He tried to adopt me, when he and Mum married, but my bio dad kicked up such a stink, they put it on ice.” I heave a sigh and wrap my arms around Lucas. While it’s hardly a big secret, it’s not often I admit the truth about my birth name, but I want Lucas to know. “Henderson isn’t even my real name. It’s Dobbes.”

He pulls back just enough so he can catch my gaze. “Nah. You’re not a Dobbes, Violet.”

“One day I’m going to legally change my name.”

“What’s stopping you?”

Okay, I hadn’t expected that question, and I’m not sure why. It’s a perfectly reasonable one, but I don’t have an answer for it. Then again, no one’s ever called me out on it before. “Um, nothing. I just haven’t got around to it yet.”

“If you want something, you’ve gotta go for it.”

The determination in his voice catches me. Everything about Lucas is action. When he decides to do something, he doesn’t bugger around and procrastinate like me.

I do want that name change to be legal, so why am I waiting?

“Thank you.” I hope I don’t look as adoring as I feel, because that would be too mortifying. “I’m going to sort that out as my number one priority.”

His eyes smolder. I didn’t know such a thing was even possible, and shivers race along my spine. “Do you want to know what’s my number one priority right now, Violet?”

I have a good idea, but I want him to say it. “Surprise me.”

He brushes his lips across my cheek and teases my earlobe. It’s crazily arousing, and I sigh and tilt my head to give him better access. His voice is husky and full of promise as he answers, “You.”