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I stiffen, every muscle in my body wound up, all of my senses on alert, “She’s not yours.”
“She’s not yours, either. I’ll never let you have her.” He tucks her head under his chin and my blood pounds at my temples. Anger flushes my skin. I take another step forward and he scowls. “Don’t come closer.”
“Let go of her.”
“No fucking way.” He squeezes her wrist, and she cries out. The blade slips from her grasp, and he catches it.
My heart slams into my ribcage, anger pulses through my veins. I move toward him, then freeze, for he’s holding the blade to her neck.
“Now we’re talking.” His grin widens. “On your knees, asshole.”
I bend one knee, then the other.
“Put your hands behind your head.”
I comply.
“How does it feel to be on the losing team, eh?”
I stay silent.
“Oh, I forgot. You’re used to it. You’re a loser of a captain, you know that? The least you could do is lead the team to victory. When did you last do that, eh?”
“The team won the last three matches,” I point out.
“They were limited over-matches; they don’t count.”
Jesus, another puritanical cricket lover? How many of them are there anyway?“Is that why you went after her—to get to me?”
He blinks, then laughs. “You give yourself too much credit. Abby and I knew each other, much before you came on the scene.” He lowers his cheek to hers. “Don’t we, sweetheart?”
She stares at me, eyes wide, cheeks shorn of color. She’s barely breathing, her body so rigid, it’s as if she’s encased in ice. I hold her gaze, try to convey to her there’s nothing to worry about. Her eyes flicker, and I’m sure I’m getting through to her in some form.
“Stop talking to each other, or I swear, I’m going to tear up this pretty face.” He raises his hand and places it against her cheek.
A small cry leaves her lips and my heart shatters. My muscles jump. Adrenaline fills my veins.Fuck, fuck, fuck. How do I stop this, how do I get him away from her?
“What do you want? Is it money? I can pay you.”
“Oh?” He tilts his head. “How much are we talking about?”
“Everything. Take everything I have but let her go.” I sense her lips part in surprise, but I don’t take my gaze off of his face. “You know you want to accept the offer.”
His eyebrows knit.
“You know you want to. Take it. Think of everything you can do with the money. We’re talking billions here. All the money from my sponsorships, and my winnings that I have invested—you can have it all.”
“Tempting.” He nods slowly, then smiles. “But no, thank you, I’ll take her instead.” He begins to inch away in the direction of the rear door of the kitchen. It backs onto a fire-escape; I’m sure that’s his destination. It’s how he left last time, as well.
“Wait,” I call out. “You’ll get VIP tickets to the next World Cup.”
He pauses.
“And to every single match played by the English cricket team for the rest of your life.”
He blinks, and I know I have him. I rise slowly to my feet.
“Think about it. A life’s supply of the best tickets. That’s something even money can’t buy.”
