Taylor Swift & Travis Kelce inspired romance. Can you find all the Easter eggs? |
Trace Kelton, a charismatic NFL star, is on the brink of losing it all after attempting to save an intoxicated woman that ended with him hospitalizing three men. To p...
A gnawing at Trace's insides became present. Just seeing Penelope at his front door churned the beginning of a hurricane that was already rising into a force of nature. Trace's mind was overloaded with the realization that Syler hardly cared about him, and he hated that every bone in his body still loved her. And to have to stomach the thought of misplacing his energy and dedication to getting to know her and protecting her, he had to now deal with this mess that stood in front of him.
Penelope's raven hair was tied up in a messy bun, hazel eyes sharp and keen on his every movement. Her ruby-colored pencil dress hugged her hourglass figure, and between her perfectly manicured nails was a blue folder with a thick stack of papers inside.
"What are you doing here?" Trace questioned as he approached her.
"Can I come in?" Though her voice held a sultry rasp he would have typically found attractive, tonight, it felt like nails on a chalkboard, grating at his mental clarity.
Trace gave her a quick glance, marched right past her, and began typing in my code to unlock the front door. "Alone with a–what was it you called me? Abuser? Taking risks today, I see."
Her lids closed with a shallow sigh. "You saw the interview."
Trace pushed open his door, stepped in, and turned to face her. "Bye, Penelope."
"Wait." The breathy word came out as a frantic rush of desperation. She stepped closer and extended a hand, placing it on the surface of the door to hold it open. "I'm sorry about the interview. I got paid to say those things, and I needed the money. I know they aren't true."
With a clench of his teeth, he bit, "Bye, Penelope."
She raised a hand in surrender, the other still clutching her blue folder. "Okay, okay! I get it. You shouldn't give me the time of day. But, I'm here to talk to you about Syler. I have some information you might want."
He went to close the door, saying, "I don't want anything from you."
Penelope slammed her hand against the door again, blurting out, "She's had other contracts. With men."
The sound of the confession sent a spike of anger down his spine, but it stopped him in his tracks. The door remained halfway open. If that were true, he felt even less important to Syler than he had originally thought. But the idea of ripping this wound in his heart as wide as possible to help him over the hump of getting over her was appealing.
"I know about your contract with her. And I thought you'd want to know about the others."
Others. The humiliation he was already feeling magnified. And so did his curiosity. There was a buzz in his pocket from a text that rolled in. Then another. And everything in him didn't want to look. Instead, he put his hand in his pocket, switched the lever to silence his phone so he could forget about the rest of the world for a moment and focus on what Penelope was trying to say.
He stepped away from the door, leaving it wide open as he entered his house. He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, Penelope's heels clinking against the tile behind him. "Don't close the door. You'll be seeing yourself out shortly." Without looking in her direction, he moved to the entertainment area where three beige couches encircled a square, glass coffee table. He plopped down on the sofa and took a long chug of his water, suddenly wishing it was his bourbon.
Penelope came beside him, her fruity perfume taking up space around him in a suffocating way. She put down the folder on the table. "These are her other contracts."
His fingertips were itching to rip apart the folder, but he stayed tamed, unsure how his behavior might be misconstrued for her next interview. "How'd you get these?"
"I can't tell you." A smile tipped up the corner of her maroon-painted lips. "But, if this intrigues you, I have some important information on Madd Hules as well."
Maybe she had some sort of evidence that could relieve him from all his contracts. This could mean freedom. Trace reached for the folder, but upon touching it, her hand slammed down over the papers to keep it shut. His eyes slid to hers, watching her scoot closer to him.
"Uh uh. This information doesn't come without a price, Trace Kelton."
Trace narrowed his eyes on her as she licked her lips and let a moan escape her mouth. His body heated. The tension buzzed. The air around him suddenly ignited in ways he was uncertain about. And as her lips came close to his, he took a hard gulp, staring at the folder and wondering if this would cost him more than his freedom.
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Thank you kindly!
I should be back after the holidays with a Syler chapter.
