Page 12 of Wicked Lord

“Christ, Lorelei, how did that happen?”

“I guess it’s all the fraternity guys I’ve been fucking.” I threw him a hate-filled glare.

My father rose from the chair, his brows gnarled and lips twisted into a scowl. “Watch your mouth, young lady.”

“Whatever…”

He pointed a warning finger at me. “The Havershams will be here shortly, and I expect you to be on your best behavior. You’ll have to make up for missing the yacht trip somehow.”

I slapped my hands on my hips and narrowed my eyes at my dad. My track record with men suddenly made a lot more sense.

“I’ll put on a fake smile and pretend for now. But I promise you this, I will not marry Brock Haversham. I don’t care what I have to do, but Iwillfind another way.”

“As long as that other way means five million dollars in our bank account by the end of the summer, I really don’t care what you do,” he gritted out.

Fuck, five million?

How the hell was I going to find a way to make that much money by September?

CHAPTER 6

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS

Axel

Steam already filled the locker room when I left the coach’s office still in my practice gear, my cleats hitting the black and white tiles. My muscles groaned, and my legs threatened to collapse after the beating we’d taken this afternoon, but I loved every second of it. Rushing across the field—and knocking a few guys down on the way—was the best form of therapy.

Not that I needed therapy. At least, I’d never admit it.

“Vanderhart, you in trouble?” Dawson Jacobs asked as he stood against his locker, the white towel barely hanging onto his wide hips.

A grin pulled my lips apart. “Me in trouble with Coach Carson? Never happening.”

Byron Phillips, the best receiver the Knights ever had, snorted on a laugh. “Vanderhart is the golden boy, the star quarterback. He can do no wrong when it comes to the coaches.”

I shrugged, unable to deny his words. “I can’t help that people fall for my charm, Phillips.”

The favoritism probably had something to do with the head coach sporting the same serpent and dagger tattoo on his forearm as I did.

“Another conversation about going pro?” Byron opened his locker and drew out his black and gold duffle bag, Stonewall U’s Knights crest emblazoned on the front.

“Coach Carson is persistent.” I had no desire to go pro. As much as I loved the game, I didn’t need the money, nor did I want to wreck my body by the time I turned twenty-five.

Plus, my father was more than happy to welcome me at Vanderhart Securities.

My parents never pressured my brothers or me into joining the family business. Instead, they encouraged us to pursue our dreams. Of course, my grandparents were a little more old school and were hoping we’d all follow in my father’s footsteps. My grandmother was always on me about finding a wife.

If Evie Vanderhart had her way, I’d be hitched and expecting baby number one a week after graduation.

I removed my shoulder pads and dropped them on the bench before kicking my shoes off. Raucous laughter reverberated from the next row of lockers.

“Come on, guys. Just stop.”

A hard smack echoed, followed by more laughter. “Don’t be such a pussy.”

“Please. I’ve had enough. I can’t take anymore.”

The black, gold, and white locker room suddenly faded, and I stood on the bluffs again, the clear ebony sky reflecting in the ocean as if the heavens surrounded us. There was no telling where one ended and the other began. But such a mesmerizing sight couldn’t wash away the ugliness of that night.