caught out
NFWMB BY HOZIER
I smooth my dress down as I step into the elevator, heart still pounding from everything that just happened in Oliver’s hotel room. I use the blurred reflection in the wall to fix my hair, check my makeup, and try to make myself a little less just-fucked.
Is it obvious that Rockford FC’s captain just tied me to a door and fucked me senseless?
We agreed I’d head downstairs first, give it a few minutes, and then he’d casually follow. Professional. Nothing to see here.
The elevator doors ding open, and I step out into the lobby, forcing my expression into something neutral. I’m halfway across the polished marble floor when I hear a voice behind me.
“Addison.”
Fuck.
A small, helpless groan slips out before I can stop it, because of course it’s Matt.
I turn around slowly, trying not to raise suspicion. He’s alone—no camera crew, no intern following him around like he’s some kind of god.
“Hi,” I say tightly, already calculating my emergency exits and how quickly I can get away without making a scene.
“You look…” he gestures vaguely, his eyes dragging over me slowly in a way that makes my skin crawl, “... incredible tonight.”
I force a polite smile. “Thank you. Excuse me, I—”
He steps closer to me, cutting me off. “I’ve been thinking,” he says, smiling like he thinks himself charming.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” I mutter, angling my body to sidestep him.
He moves again, boxing me in.
“Do you ever think about it?” he asks, voice low. “The good times we had?”
I stiffen as my eyes dart around, looking for someone—anyone—to step into the lobby. But there’s no one. It’s just me and him and the weight of everything I wish I could forget.
“We were really great together, Addison,” he says, leaning in close enough that I can smell the whiskey on his breath. “You just… I don’t think you remember it right.”
I shake my head sharply. “I remember everything.”
“You could come home, you know.” He smiles at me, like he’s forcing shyness. “It doesn’t have to be this tense. We were good, Addison. You just got confused.”
“You’re right,” I say, voice hard. “I was confused. But I’m not anymore.”
“Addison,” Matt says, voice sharp now. I try to move, but his hand clamps around my arm. Hard.
I whirl around, shock and pain pulsing through me.
“Matt, you’re hurting me,” I say, trying to pull myself free.
His fingers tighten as his smile fades away. The charm disappears. All that’s left is the real Matt.
“You don’t get to walk away from me,” he snarls. “Not again.”
The panic in me rises. I want to scream, but I refuse to cause a scene. I refuse to let the world know what he’s put me through, like I’m some wounded animal for everyone to look at on the side of the road. If I expose him, everyone will see me differently, not him.
The elevator dings, and suddenly he’s there.
Oliver.
He storms out of the elevator like I sent up some kind of bat signal. He strides toward us, jaw tight, eyes dark, not even hesitating for a second. He steps between me and Matt, shoving him back with a solid hand to his chest.
“Touch her again,” Oliver says, voice low and deadly, “and I will end you.”
Matt laughs, a short, sinister, ugly laugh that just reveals who he truly is. Without the cameras here, he doesn’t even care about his job, the team, or the players.
“You think you can tank my career?” Matt asks, arms spread wide like this is some kind of game. “I have friends everywhere.”
Oliver doesn’t blink.
“Not your career,” he says, voice like steel as he steps closer to Matt. “You.”
For a second, none of us move. Matt’s mouth twitches. He’s an idiot, but he’s smart enough to know Oliver isn’t bluffing. He’s also hyper-aware of cameras at all times, so he knows something could make its way onto film that could damage him. Slowly, he steps back.
Oliver turns immediately, his whole body pivoting toward me, like nothing else in the world matters.
“Addie,” he says urgently. “Are you okay?”
I nod shakily, rubbing my hand along my arm where Matt grabbed me.
Matt’s eyes narrow, and that’s when I realize it.
Addie.
He heard it.
Before I can say anything, Oliver spins around toward him again, fury still radiating from him.
“You will not speak to her, look at her, or breathe near her again,” he seethes. “You’re done.”
He takes my hand, shielding me as he pulls me away from the scene of the crime and back toward the ballroom.
“I need some air,” I whisper, tugging at Oliver’s hand.
“Okay.” He pivots and pulls me down a hallway and out the back door of the hotel toward an empty courtyard. He doesn’t let go until we’re tucked into a quiet corner, near a marble pillar draped in white string lights.
“Addie,” he says again, voice rough as he looks me over. “Are you really okay?”
The concern on his face just about undoes me.
“Yeah.” I nod. “I’m okay.”
Oliver lifts his hand to gently brush a strand of hair behind my ear. He lets his fingers linger against my cheek.
“You scared me,” he murmurs.
“I scared you?” I almost laugh, but it shakes and comes out broken.
“The look on your face. That fear,” he says, thumb brushing along my jaw. “You should never have to look at anyone like that.”
I swallow hard, because I know he means it. He means every word.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He leans forward, forehead resting slightly against mine.
I close my eyes and lean into him, desperately wanting to hold him and never let go.
Because I don’t know where we go from here.
This was always going to end when the season does, but now Matt knows, and that’s an entirely new variable I wasn’t planning on.
I must be holding on to him tightly, because Oliver pulls back and looks me over again.
“Addison, are you sure you’re—”
“He knows.”
Oliver blinks, confused. “Who knows what?”
“Matt,” I say, feeling sick. “He knows.”
Oliver tenses just at the sound of his name. “Knows what? That he’s a bloody arsehole?”
“No, no,” I say quickly, squeezing his hand. “He knows about us.”
“How do you know that?”
“You called me Addie,” I whisper. “In the lobby. The second you said it, his face changed. He knows.”
He stares at me for a second like he’s trying to place the exact moment in time.
“I—I didn’t even think. It was just—”
“I know how his brain works,” I say, shaking. “The way he looked at me after? I’ve seen that face before. He’s put it all together.”
“Fuck,” Oliver mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “We’ll handle it.”
“But, Oliver—”
“Hey.” His voice softens, but it doesn’t lose its edge. He takes my hand, lacing our fingers together. “Take a deep breath.”
I let out a shaky breath. “But if he knows—”
“Then he knows,” Oliver cuts in. “But I also know something.”
“What’s that?”
Oliver smiles at me. “I know you’re Addison fucking Scott, and no one makes you retreat.”
I bite my lip to keep the emotion inside me from spilling over. Oliver tilts my chin up, searching my eyes like he’s reading every thought running through my head.
He presses a quick kiss to my forehead and steps back.
“Come on, let’s get back to the gala before Carlos creates a PR disaster.”
I smile, wiping away a tear, and follow him, because at this point, there’s nothing else I can do.