Page 66 of Set Play

A choked whimper tries to work its way from my throat, but I swallow thickly and twist my torso to do as I’m told. Even if I am listening to this particular order, I can’t help but point out, “Just because you won the game against Tampa tonight doesn’t mean you get to be so bossy, you know.”

Mateo stays quiet, and when I finally get the damn thing open, he strides in like he owns the place, kicking the door shut behind us. “I’d offer you a beverage, but it’s hard to be a proper host when my guest won’t put me down.”

His bark of laughter echoes throughout the empty townhouse as he moves toward the stairs. He gets one foot on the bottom step before panic hits. “No, wait!”

He jerks back as if the stairs are two seconds from collapsing, looking down at me in confusion.

I can’t let him carry me upstairs. That’s like twenty stairs!

He’d pass out before he even made it halfway and then I’d have to explain to everyone how I gave him a concussion.

“Please put me down. I can walk up the stairs.”

I avoid his eyes, not wanting to see his face when he realizes why I’m panicking. The heat of his penetrating gaze scorches the top of my head but I don’t dare move.

I’m mortified.

It wasn’t enough that he witnessed my panic attack at the gala. The universe just had to align it so he uncovered one of my biggest insecurities.

God, he probably thinks I’m a fucking mess. Um, maybe because you are a fucking mess.

I wait for him to say something. Anything. At this point, I’ll take anything over this painful silence. But he doesn’t speak. Instead, he lowers me to the first step and backs away, granting me my wish to climb them on my own. Neither of us speak until my bedroom door clicks shut behind us. “I’m sorry,” I rush to say, just as he asks,

“Do you want to talk about it?”

My heart melts at his offer, but I shake my head. I can’t let him get any closer. Not until I talk to Henri. That’s one thing that became glaringly obvious the night of the gala, and my interaction with Flora and Sophie tonight only confirmed it.

Mateo walks me to the front door, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “I’m sorry for walking out on you this evening, Élise. It’s just…I need you to kn—”

Niamh swings open the door, interrupting whatever he was going to say. I watch his eyes shutter even as he smiles at her.

“I thought I heard you two,” she shrieks, doing a happy dance. “So, how was the gala? I need details!” When she finally looks up at us, her excitement fades. “Shit, am I interrupting?”

He straightens up. “Nah, just saying goodbye before I head out. I’ll, uh, see you at practice tomorrow, yeah?”

The stark change in his demeanor knocks the words from my mind, leaving me to stand there and nod mutely. With a sad smile, he turns, walks back to his car, and leaves.

“What was that about, Éllie?” Niamh’s soft question breaks the hold on my tongue.

“I really don’t know. But a lot happened tonight. Let’s go inside so I can tell you about it. I need a glass of wine.”

To her credit, Niamh doesn’t interrupt my retelling of the night’s events once. When I finally finish, I tense, expecting her massive explosion of excitement, but she places a hand on mine and looks me in the eyes. “You don’t see it, do you?”

“See what?”

“You’re falling for him, Éllie.”

I scoff, “No, I’m not. I can’t be. Nope. Not an option.”

She doesn’t respond to my denial, just watches me carefully. “Even if I am developing some sort of feelings for him, it doesn’t matter,” I whisper into the space between us. “Henri—”

“Oh, fer feck’s sake!” Niamh slams her glass down on the coffee table, sloshing its contents, but not blinking an eye.

I gape at her, trying to understand her anger when she continues, “I’m so fecking sick of ye using Henri as a fecking excuse to hide how ye feel! I don’t fecking care about the bloody rivalry! Mateo doesn’t fecking care about it either. Yer the only one who does!” She launches to her feet to pace the room. “And why? Because yer brother told ye a story years ago and ye never bothered questioning him? No, we’re done with that shite. Ye need to confront Henri and ask him for the truth about the two of ‘em! Bí i do bhean!2” Without a backward glance, or translating, she storms up to her third-floor bedroom, leaving me alone on the couch wondering if she’s right.

A warm hand presses to my cheek, pulling me back to the present to see those gorgeous stormy blues staring down at me with concern. “Everything okay, Chispita?”

I nod and give him a weak smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry. I just zoned out. Anyway, I know you mentioned ravishing me…but can we just hang out and watch a movie?”