Chapter 50
Josephine
“God, I’m starving,” I declare, scanning the breakfast spread. It’s just as elaborate as always, and that makes it so damn hard to know where to start.
It’s Sunday, so I’ve been up since sunrise. That’s the deal. Kylian sleeps alone in the Nest on Saturday nights so he can decompress, but only as long as I promise to come up first thing Sunday morning.
Watching the filtered sunlight sparkle through the stained glass of the cupola while Kylian eats me out is the ultimate way to wake up. I don’t know which one of us likes it more.
“Oh yeah?” Kylian whispers. He wraps his arms around me, then teases his hands down the front of the boxers I stole from him before coming downstairs. “I thought you were fully satisfied.”
One finger dips lower, the tip connecting with my clit in the lightest of touches.
“Baby, why are you still so wet?” he asks, licking a path along my neck and pinning me to the island in front of a bowl of fruit. It’s all I can do to set down my plate and grip the edge of the counter.
“I thought I cleaned you up before we came down here,” he teases, his hand traveling farther into the boxers. He pinches my swollen, sensitive clit between his thumb and finger. “Unless this just happened, and you’re wet again?”
His breath is hot on my neck, his words kerosene to the fire smoldering in my belly. I shudder when he gathers all the fresh arousal from between my legs and slathers it around my pussy.
“This is all new?” he asks, swirling a finger through my folds. “You’re fucking soaked, baby,” he purrs reverently, shallowly fucking that one finger into my pussy. He kisses along my neck again, and I can’t help but grind back against his cock.
I really was satisfied when we came down the stairs. Leave it to Kylian to ignite the glowing embers settling inside me.
“Such a needy girl. You like knowing that all your other boyfriends are right through that door? That at any second, one of them could walk in and see me playing with your pussy?” He adds a second finger, then draws them out so slowly my hips chase his hand on instinct.
“So fucking needy,” he murmurs again, using his hips to pin me against the island.
Once I’m immobile, he pinches my clit hard, and he doesn’t let go.
“Kylian,” I pant, moisture surging from me and coating my thighs in a way that’s going to be awfully apparent if he keeps this up.
“So fucking messy,” he murmurs again. Except it sounds like praise. And it makes the walls of my pussy clench with desire.
He grazes his teeth against my shoulder, only heightening the sensation. “I should spread you out on this counter right now between the berries and the whipped cream and fuck you so hard you gush all over the quartz.”
Holy. Shit.
The heat is all-consuming. I’m so sensitive and well-fucked I ache.
But I can’t make him stop. I never want him to stop.
“Please, Daddy,” I whimper as he presses his erection into my ass. “Please, let me—”
“There you two are!” Mrs. Lansbury calls, pushing through the door that connects the dining room to the kitchen.
Kylian has just enough time to remove his hand. Once Mrs. Lansbury is focused on the coffee, he wraps his arm around my chest.
“Clean it up, naughty girl,” he taunts, holding his hand in front of my face.
I pull back but can’t go far. I’m trapped in his hold. There’s no way in hell I want sweet Mrs. Lansbury to watch me suck my own cum off my boyfriend’s fingers.
He drops his chin to my shoulder when I stall.
But then Mrs. Lansbury speaks again.
“Kylian.”
Her tone is low, serious in a way I’ve never heard before. I shake myself out of the lust-filled haze Kylian has put me in yet again, only to catch sight of her pained, panicked expression.
“You need to get in there. Both of you. Now.”
Kylian stiffens and moves to my side, suddenly on high alert. His eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second. His furrowed brow and the subtle shrug of his shoulders tell me he doesn’t know what’s going on, either.
“Grab something quick,” he instructs, reaching past me to snag a bagel and a sausage link he pops directly into his mouth.
I reach for the closest thing available—the stupid mixed berry blend I almost got fucked beside—and spoon some into a bowl.
He grabs my hand a second later, pulling me behind him as he hustles into the dining room.
A sense of déjà vu washes over me as I take in the scene before me.
Decker and Kendrick are seated on one side of the long table. Locke is positioned on the other. Misty is standing before all of them, but this time, she’s got a literal projector set up behind her.
It’s the images illuminated on the wall that stop me in my tracks.
It’s me.
Hoisted up in Decker’s arms on the field after they beat South Chapel, our lips inches apart in what sure as shit looks like an almost kiss.
The screen changes.
It’s me again.
Snuggling between Kendrick and Locke out on the lower deck, K’s hand spread wide across my stomach while my arms are wrapped around Nicky’s neck.
“That was just last night,” I whisper, mortified.
Every head in the room turns in my direction.
A satisfied smirk paints Misty’s face. “Good to know. That’ll help me piece the timeline together and better respond to all the inquiries we’re getting about the Lake Chapel Crusaders’ number one fan.” Shit. The bite in her tone means we’re all in trouble.
“Don’t say another fucking word,” Kylian growls under his breath. He guides me around the table and pulls out the chair next to Locke, then motions for me to sit.
“What is this?” he demands, jutting his chin toward the projector, then flicking his gaze to Decker.
“This”—Misty huffs, regarding the screen, then sweeping her perfectly manicured hand between the five of us—“is the makings of a PR nightmare.”
My stomach knots with dread. I knew there were photographers on the field that day with Decker—but I never thought someone would take our picture here at the house. During a clearly private moment. When the five of us were the only people here.
Kylian clamps a hand down on my thigh in a protective hold. He barely tolerates Misty as it is, and he doesn’t bother to hide his disdain as he shoots her a glare, then angrily swipes at his phone’s screen. I know exactly where he stands, but what about the rest of them?
One by one, I try to silently garner their attention. Neither Kendrick nor Decker will look at me. And there’s nothing reassuring about either of their expressions.
Kendrick’s face is ashen, a hard glare flicking between the screen and Misty.
Decker’s face is blank. His carefully constructed public mask is in place, though his jaw is working overtime. I lean forward, ready to speak, when he finally looks at me.
It’s the subtle, barely there nod of his head that makes my heart rate spike. Whatever this is—whatever’s about to go down—Decker is deferring to me.
With her hands planted on her hips, Misty looks from Decker to me, then follows the length of Kylian’s arm where it’s possessively resting on my leg.
“I need a complete and honest rundown about all this so I know what I’m dealing with here.”
It’s Kendrick who speaks up first. “No, you do not.”
Her gaze narrows on him, but she ignores his comment and regards Decker instead. “A camera crew and two production assistants are down on the beach collecting B-roll as we speak. You’ll be on camera—on the record—and under scrutiny twenty-four seven in one week’s time.”
I shut my eyes as anticipatory dread swirls inside me at the reminder of everything involved with the SportsZone coverage.
Decker gave us all an out—suggested we leave and camp out somewhere until it’s over—but I couldn’t stand to leave any of them, let alone break up the group because of my own insecurities.
“This feature has been in the works for months. It’s the biggest publicity push we have in our arsenal ahead of the draft.
Thomas flies in next week. The feature is woven into seven sponsorship deals.
And yet despite all the planning, all the strategy, and all the work we’ve put into it, I’m being blindsided by what the ‘Life of A Crusader’ actually entails, it seems.”
She clicks back a slide to the picture of Decker and me.
“The feature is supposed to follow Decker, although you’ll benefit from the additional coverage ahead of the draft, too, Kendrick.
Per the contractual agreement, the crew will have complete access to the house and to your lives for up to ten days.
Everything is on the record. Everyone who lives here”—she shoots a wary, peeved glance my way—“is subject to be interviewed and included.”
“No.” Kylian’s objection is loud and absolute.
Misty barks out a mocking laugh. “You’ve already signed off on this.”
Heart dropping to my stomach, I search Decker’s face. When I get no reaction, I look to Kendrick and Locke and finally Kylian.
“I didn’t sign anything,” I whisper, my voice cracking on the last word as I fight back tears.
“You did not,” the other woman confirms. “And that’s a problem in and of itself. Everyone who lives in this house is required to sign an NDA. Decker knows this.” She glances at Cap. “Thomas has already been informed.”
“We’re done here,” Decker declares, rising to his feet.
“We’re not, actually,” Misty counters, pointing her clicker at the screen.
The picture comes into focus in slow motion.
Though picture isn’t an accurate description. It’s pictures. Plural. It’s a collage. A collage of regrettable choices and stupid decisions, made by a young girl trying to look so much older than she actually was. Though childhood hadn’t really been an option for her to begin with.
It’s pictures of me at fifteen and sixteen. Grainy, red-eyed photos of me partying: double-fisting beers, pulling on a bong. It’s pictures I haven’t seen in years. Pictures that have been rounded up and used to deliberately destroy once before.
Near the bottom, an out-of-focus shot proves to be the worst offender.
It’s me, unconscious, being carried by my hands and feet by two boys who fucking knew better but took what they wanted anyway.
Never let them get you to the second location.
I gulp past the fury—the shame, the outrage—threatening to incinerate me. It doesn’t matter where she got the photos or what she knows. All that matters is that she’s trying to use them against me now.
I’ve let these pictures pull me under once before. I refuse to allow anyone to weaponize them against me ever again.
Standing slowly, I focus on taking measured, even breaths. Beside me, Kylian matches my movements and also rises to his feet.
I smooth my hands down the front of my Crusader’s T-shirt, then rest them gently on the table, steadying myself. For a handful of heartbeats, I study the images illuminated on the wall behind Misty. I stare into the eyes of a girl who has overcome and survived too much to roll over and give up now.
When I finally glance around the room, I realize I’m not alone. All four of the men around the table are also standing. Watching me, encouraging me, deferring to me.
I inhale and straighten my spine, setting my sights on the woman at the head of the table.
“I don’t know where you got those pictures or why you felt compelled to put them in a slideshow presentation, considering you’re propagating photos of a minor without consent.”
Misty huffs and opens her mouth to defend herself, I assume, but Decker shuts her down before she can get a single word out.
“She’s speaking,” he growls with so much animosity Misty’s mouth audibly snaps shut.
Good. I hope she chipped a veneer.
“I will not be shamed, manipulated, or coerced because of choices I made when I was a child. Or by footage that was used against me in a rape case. Because that’s what that is.” I tilt my chin toward the screen behind her as Misty pales to a ghostly white. “Those are pictures of a child.”
I gulp past the sick threatening to rise up in my chest and push forward. I do it for the girl I used to be. I do it for the woman I am today.
“And that picture in the bottom right corner,” I sneer, my voice shaking, “was taken moments before my unconscious body was taken into a garage and I was sexually assaulted.”
Misty looks like she’s going to be sick. I hope her dress is dry-clean only.
“If you were going for shock value, you lost. They already know. Every person in this room knows what happened to me when I was sixteen years old.” I cock a brow.
“And the pictures you shared from the game last week? And from the patio last night? Those were all taken after they knew the details about the girl I used to be.”
I step back from the table, physically shaking. My voice quavers as I deliver my final request.
“Leave me out of this. All of it—any of it. I don’t want to interfere with the guys’ careers, but I also won’t stand to be bullied and manipulated because you feel threatened.”
The screen goes black as the last word leaves my mouth. It’s then that I realize Kylian’s no longer by my side.
He pulled the plug on the projector.
He skirts around Misty, mumbling “excuse me” and snatches her laptop off the table.
“Let’s go,” he whispers, grasping my elbow gently and encouraging me forward. Two steps later, Locke’s hand connects with my low back.
Misty lets out a cry of protest, but Decker immediately shuts her down once again.
“You and I have some things to discuss,” he snarls, crossing his arms over his chest.
He nods at Kendrick and mouths, “Go.”
I deflate with relief when Kendrick’s eyes meet mine. He doesn’t focus anywhere but on me as he makes his way to join us.
As soon as we push through the dining room door, leaving Decker to deal with Misty, I slump against the wall.
Shit on a crumbly cracker.
Will I ever truly escape who I was or what happened?
This is all too much.
And yet—I’m still standing.
I’m still standing, with my guys by my side.
“Baby. You handled that beautifully. You did so good. You’re okay now. We’re here. What do you need?” Kylian implores, a pained expression screwing up his face.
I inhale and close my eyes, willing myself to keep it together.
Surprisingly, I’m not on the cusp of breaking down.
I’m spent, sure. Tired in a way that sleep won’t rectify. But maybe there’s something else that will.
“Fresh air,” I answer as I force my eyes open and look to each of them. “Fresh air and sunshine. Maybe an afternoon at the beach? But I want to wait for Cap.”
“You got it, Mama.” Kendrick pulls me into his side and kisses my hair, then takes my hand to lead us out the back door.