Chapter 5 #5
{Melanie’s P.O.V}
I woke up with the blanket pulled over my face.
Even under the covers I could still feel last night. Ace’s bare chest under my palm. The way his abs flexed when my fingers traced them. That smug chuckle that followed me all the way down the hall.
My face burned so hard I wanted to scream into the mattress.
He is shameless....Completely and utterly shameless.
I shoved the blanket off and sat up, heart already racing—then the memory hit me like a brick.
Press conference.
This morning.
I nearly fell out of bed.
“Shit, shit, shit—”
I scrambled upright, bare feet hitting the cold hardwood, and bolted for the bathroom across the hall. The water was still ice-cold when I stepped under it, but I didn’t care. I scrubbed fast, washed my hair in under two minutes, and was out again.
Back in the guest room I tore open both duffel bags and started throwing clothes everywhere.
Black jeans. Oversized hoodies. Practice gear.
Nothing looked right....Nothing looked like a girl who was about to stand next to Ace Walters and pretend the entire world wasn’t watching.
My hand landed on a short white dress.
It was the one I’d packed without thinkin...a stretchy fabric that hugged every curve and stopped mid-thigh.
I stared at it for half a second, then yanked it over my head. It clung to me like a second skin.
Perfect...Exactly what the cameras would eat up.
I plugged in the straightener and ran it through my damp hair until it fell in a dark, glossy sheet down my back.
No time for anything complicated.
A swipe of mascara and a thin layer of clear lip gloss....That was all the makeup I needed.
The white heels were at the bottom of the second bag..thigh-high in length, skinny stiletto, same white colour as the dress.
I stepped into them, grabbed my black leather jacket, and practically flew out of the room.
The smell of toast hit me the second I rounded the corner.
Ace was already in the kitchen.
He stood at the counter in a fitted black suit, sleeves rolled to his elbows, the veins in his forearms doing something funny to my body.
He was plating toast like he had all the time in the world.
When he heard my heels he turned, and those dark eyes dragged over me from the top of my straightened hair all the way down to the sharp points of my shoes.
He always checks me out that way...without even caring if I knew.
“Good morning,” he said, flipping a toast over.
“We’re late!!” I blurted, snatching a piece of toast straight off the plate and shoving half of it into my mouth.
He didn’t move. “You have to eat.”
“There’s no time to eat, Ace.”
He turned, opened a drawer, pulled out a small plastic container, and stacked the remaining toast inside closed the lid like he hadn’t heard me.
“Eat while I drive.”
He walked past me toward the front door without another word, keys already in his hand. I had no choice but to follow.
The second the car doors closed he threw it into gear and peeled out of the driveway like the devil himself was chasing us. Trees and streetlights blurred past the windows.
I clutched the edge of the seat with one hand and the container of toast with the other, trying not to scream every time he took a corner too fast.
“Ace—Holy Cow—slow down!”
He didn’t even glance at me. “We’re late.”
By the time we screeched to a stop outside the athletic complex, my heart was trying to climb out of my throat.
A crowd of fans had already gathered near the main entrance, phones up, bodies bouncing with restless energy. Some of them were holding handmade signs. Most of them were just waiting for blood.
The second I stepped out of the car a girl’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and ugly.
“There she is! The team’s little fuckgirl!”
Ace’s hand was already on the small of my back, but the second the word left her mouth he went completely still.
He turned his head toward the girl who had yelled. The look he gave her wasn’t dramatic. It was as though he wanted to rip her head off in that instance.
The entire crowd went dead silent.
I grabbed his wrist and dragged him toward the glass doors before he could open his mouth.
“Please ignore her, Ace” I pleaded. “Let's go in.”
The press conference room was already packed. Cameras lined the back wall. Microphones crowded the long table at the front.
Flashbulbs started popping the second we walked in. Ace didn’t bother with greetings. He didn’t smile. He just steered me straight to the two empty seats in the middle and sat down like he owned the entire building.
Someone from the athletic department tried to start the usual opening remarks. Ace ignored them completely.
He leaned forward into the cluster of microphones, voice low and flat and carrying to every corner of the room.
“I’m only going to say this once.”
The room went quiet.
“Melanie never slept with Ken. She had something private to discuss with him that night. I knew about the meeting and couldn’t go with her because I had another appointment.”
A few reporters started to shift, ready to jump in. Ace kept talking, eyes locked on the cameras.
“I got tired of watching people drag my girlfriend’s name through the mud over a lie. So we’re done hiding. This is public now. She’s mine. Anyone—fan, blogger, rival, whoever—who tries to keep slandering her will deal with me directly. I don’t care who you are.”
Whoa...He was really immersed in this, wasn't he? Even I would have believed him.
He didn’t wait for questions and didn’t give them a single second to recover.
His hand closed around mine, then he stood, pulling me up with him. We walked straight out of the room through the side exit while the entire press corps scrambled to shout after us.
Outside, the morning air felt colder than it had five minutes ago. Ace still hadn’t let go of my hand. His thumb brushed once over my knuckles, almost absent, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.
I looked up at him, still a little stunned.
“You just called me your girlfriend on live television.”
He finally glanced down, dark eyes unreadable.
“Wasn't that the agreement??"
"Oh.." I muttered. It was foolish of me to think too much of it. It was just 'an agreement'.
Get your head in the game
