Dirty Player (The Montgomery Billionaires #3)

PROLOGUE

LEVI

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Jackson Billows holds up his hands, laughing as his dark braids hang around his shoulders, almost covering his ice.

Ice, as in diamonds.

He has at least three chains draping from his neck and is sparkling like Marilyn fucking Monroe.

One could call him an actor, the way he dances around the field during an NFL game. He’s a show pony for sure, but Philadelphia loves him—hell, America loves the fifty-million-dollar-a-year Hawkes player.

Philadelphia Hawkes, that is.

The team I hope to play for one day.

Next year, if I’m being exact.

I don’t care about the money. I’m already a billionaire in my own right because of my family. I’m the son of Ward Montgomery—of Montgomery Enterprises and the luxury fashion label Verity I guess I have my answer to how she feels about me.

“Levi—”

I turn and walk away.

Striding through the party, I push past a dozen people muttering sorry and finally step outside. In a haze, I find my car where I parked it on the large sweeping driveway. As I climb in, I hear her call my name, but in the next second, the roar of my Maserati’s engine drones her out.

I don’t even look at her as she runs up alongside it, as I put my foot to the floor and burn rubber, driving past the entrance to Jackson’s mansion.

I’ll sort that out with him another day.

When I get home, I head straight to my gym, rip off my jeans and shirt, and pull on my boxing gloves. Then imagine both their faces as I smash the ever-loving shit out of the bag.

How fucking dare she?

How dare she make me look like a goddamn idiot in front of all my friends and idols?

How dare she break my fucking heart?

I’ve never seen her as a jersey chaser. We met by accident—literally. She was sliding on the wet pavement and I saved her. But it looks exactly like that to me.

Colby is a heartthrob. I mean, he has ten million follows on his Instagram and most of them are women.

Enough said.

Emotions aside, I hate that my brother was right.

“Careful bro, you know she’s on a scholarship, right?” Knox said to me.

“So?”

“Don’t rush into anything. You don’t know enough about her. There are gold diggers in the world who will marry you and take half of everything.”

I hated him at that moment. After yelling at him to fuck off, Atlas told me about a friend of his who’d had that exact thing happen.

I began to listen.

Reluctantly.

I suppose that was the moment I realized telling her I loved her wasn’t smart. That I needed to wait for her to show me she felt the same.

Dad joined the conversation that day, saying, “Knox is right. He’s just as tactless as a comedian telling knock-knock jokes at a funeral.”

Atlas snorted.

I hadn’t. I wanted to defend her. “Kaylee isn’t like that. She loves the sport as much as me. Hell, she wants to work as a sports physio.”

I thought I’d proven my point, but they both just stared at me.

“Just be careful, Levi,” Dad replied. “You know a lot of women are interested in the players. You aren’t stupid.”

After cooling off and thinking about things, I knew they just needed time to get to know her. We’d only dated for two months.

I figured in another six or twelve months, we’d show them how committed we were. How in love.

What a fool I was.

Now, she’s proven them right.

Thirty minutes later, the mix of alcohol and sweating like a pig dehydrates me. My head throbs and I don’t know if I want to scream or let myself cry.

Goddamn you, Kaylee.

I toss my gloves across the room and stalk back out to the living room. Not learning a thing, I pour myself a few fingers of whisky and press dial.

I don’t know who the fuck I’m ringing. Whoever the last person was. It’s a fifty-fifty gamble between Atlas and Knox.

“What?” Knox answers.

My fucking luck, I got the grumpy brother.

“Wrong number,” I grumble.

“Good try. What’s up?” he insists, and I guess it's due to the late hour that he knows something is wrong.

“Yo! Was the party shit, or are we just more interesting?” Atlas says in the background.

“Oh good. A two-for-one deal.” I rub my head.

“Gonna hang up if you keep being a dick,” Knox warns.

I’m silent for a moment, knowing he wouldn’t hang up.

Actually, he would, but they know me.

Plus, I’d just ring back.

“You were right,” I finally say.

“Clarify,” Knox, the arrogant of a bitch, says as I roll my eyes and flop back on the sofa, wishing the cushions would swallow me up.

“She’s a fucking jersey chaser.” My voice sounds bitter and angry, and I hate it.

I hate that I have to say those words about her.

Silence.

“What happened?” Atlas asks, all humor gone.

“Found her sharing saliva with Colby Wade.”

“That dick.” Knox grumbles.

“Not everyone is a dick, Knox. He was an incredible player,” Atlas says firmly, and I can’t help it. I let out a sort of insane laugh.

Colby is one of the greats, but my big brother—the big idiot—would have my back no matter what.

“We’re coming over,” Knox says, and I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s just past midnight but I have practice the next day.

“Nah, I have to be up in six hours. I’ll be okay. Just wanted to talk shit about her.”

It’s a lie, but I say it anyway.

“Gold digger,” Atlas chirps in.

“Punt bunny,” Knox adds.

My anger fades, and a strange pain in my chest has me dropping my head. I guess this is my first true heartache.

Two days later, when Kaylee Rose and Colby Wade are all over social media as the hottest new couple, I realize the player just got played.