The Striker (Gods of the Game Book 1)

If someone told me at the beginning of the summer that Asher and Vincent would spend a night drinking and hanging out together peacefully, I would’ve asked what they were smoking. The idea was absurd.

However, their brief truce on Saturday gave me hope that they could not only tolerate each other, but that they might actually be friends. They just had to set aside their pride and admit their rivalry was played out. At this point, they were holding on to their grudges for ego.

I didn’t say any of that to them. They had to figure it out themselves.

Vincent returned to Paris that morning to wrap up his affairs, but he’d be back next Monday. That meant Asher and I had one week left to enjoy our alone time together—or so I thought.

“I have some news,” Asher said, his face unusually somber as finished up practice.

I’d run through the first half of Lorena’s third act after his training today. I hadn’t danced in Yvette’s place again during rehearsals since my disastrous debut, but I’d worked on the choreography in bits and pieces like Asher had suggested. So far, I wasn’t pushing myself past my limits, and I felt pretty good about my progress.

However, my thrill at nailing the third act faded at his tone.

“Good news or bad news?” I asked warily. If it was good news, he’d look happier, but if it was bad news, he’d be more upset. Right?

“It depends on how you look at it.” Asher rubbed a hand over his face. “I have to go to Japan this week. Aoki Watches is my biggest sponsor, and they want to fly me out to do some press and promo for the launch of their spring collection.” A grimace crossed his face. “I got the email from my manager this morning. We were originally supposed to shoot the promos later this year, but a scheduling conflict came up and they had to shift everything last minute.”

“Japan?” I sucked in a sharp breath. That wasn’t a quick trip to, say, France or Italy. That was halfway across the world. “How long is the trip?”

“Three days. I leave on Wednesday.”

Wednesday. That was in two days, which meant he’d be gone until Sunday. That ate up the full remainder of our time together before Vincent’s return.

“Oh.” I swallowed past the irrational lump in my throat. “That’ll be fun.”

I shouldn’t be upset. It wasn’t like I’d never see him again, and it was ridiculous to feel like Asher was abandoning me because it wasn’t his choice to leave.

At the same time, it was the end of an era. This summer had changed everything—my self-esteem, my willingness to leave my comfort zone, my relationship with others and myself. It was our little bubble against reality, and I wasn’t mentally ready for it to just end without a proper sendoff.

We had one week. I’d prepared for that. I’d planned for that. Now, we had two days, including today. Maybe not even that, since he probably needed to spend tomorrow packing and prepping for his trip.

Asher’s face clouded at whatever he heard in my voice. “Scarlett⁠—”

“Make sure to eat all the food for me. Ramen, sushi, matcha…and beef. Kobe beef is world famous, right? I bet their fish and steak is amazing. Will you be in Tokyo? You should visit some of the temples if you have time. They look beautiful.” I prattled on, hoping the words would bulldoze over the hollow cavern in my chest. “The time difference will be killer, but if you don’t FaceTime me at least once to show me the sights, I’ll never forgive you. Oh, and I⁠—”

“Scarlett.”

I stopped, slightly out of breath from my rambling. “Yes?”

“Come with me.”

“Come with you to where?”

“To Japan.”

My lips parted. Surely, he was joking. “I can’t go with you to Japan!”

“Why not?”

“Because I have a job! I have practice. I have…” I floundered, trying to come up with other reasons and failing. “I can’t just drop everything and fly to another continent with you. What will I tell Vincent? He’ll be suspicious for sure.”

“Vincent isn’t here. By the time he finds out, we’ll have told him about us already,” Asher said calmly. “I also asked Carina about your schedule after I found out about the trip. She mentioned you had quite a few days of holiday leave you need to take before summer’s end or you’ll lose them. Where better to enjoy them than in Japan? With me?” His roguish grin matched the teasing sparkle in his eyes.

Typical Asher.

But I couldn’t be mad because he was right. I hadn’t taken a proper holiday in too long, and Japan was on my bucket list.

“I don’t know.” My reflection stared back at me from the studio’s mirrors, its face wracked with indecision. “Leaving for Asia with less than forty-eight-hours’ notice is wild.”

Asher noticed the crack in my shield and pounced. “You know what they say. Spontaneity is the spice of life.” His expression gentled when I didn’t reply. “If you really don’t want to go, you don’t have to. But if you’re concerned about work, Carina said she can squeeze in your holiday and find someone to cover you.” As Lavinia’s executive assistant, Carina was in charge of overseeing the staff’s schedules. “Aoki is also flying us out on the company jet, so we don’t have to worry about being spotted in the airport. I can bring a plus-one, so they’ll also cover your expenses, and the Japanese press won’t hound us the way the paps do here. I have a bunch of work obligations while I’m there, but I’ll have free time too. We’ll actually be able to enjoy ourselves without looking over our shoulders every minute of the day.”

I drew my bottom lip between my teeth. That did sound nice.

Asher and I made our relationship work in London, but we spent half our time hiding out in one of our houses and the other half hoping people wouldn’t see past his disguises when we were out and about. We couldn’t hold hands or kiss in front of other people. Even in “safe” spaces like the Angry Boar, we were constantly on alert for eavesdroppers.

I wanted to experience what it was like to be a normal couple with him.

In the end, that was what sold me. Not the private jet, not the all-expenses-paid trip to Tokyo, but the prospect of simply spending more time with him.

“Okay,” I said, torn between nerves and excitement. “Let’s go to Japan.”

I’d visited Asia only once in my life. My parents took Vincent and me to Disneyland Shanghai before their divorce, but I was so young I only retained vague recollections of a pink castle and the fairy-light sugariness of candy floss.

Tokyo was the polar opposite of that sweet, hazy childhood memory.

Glittering skyscrapers and giant neon signs draped across the skyline like jewels adorning a crown. The streets teemed with people, and the energy of the city pulsed with such vibrancy it seeped through our car windows and reverberated in my bones.

It was electric. It was frenetic.

It was incredible.

Asher’s publicist Sloane met us on the tarmac when we landed. Blond, statuesque, and intimidating as hell, she issued orders and shepherded us through the city and into our penthouse hotel suite with the brusque efficiency of a four-star military general.

I didn’t know what Asher told her about me, but she didn’t question why her star client popped up in Japan with his summer trainer in tow.

“Here’s a detailed itinerary for the next three days,” she said, handing Asher a thick sheaf of stapled, color-coordinated papers. “Call time is at seven a.m. tomorrow. I’ll be here at six-fifteen sharp to make sure you’re awake and ready. If you need anything, call, text, or email in that order. If it’s a true emergency, find me in my room. I’m staying in 805.”

“Got it.” He took the papers without looking at them. “You know, it’s still early in the evening. You should hit the spa for a massage or something. My treat.”

Sloane’s mouth pursed. If anyone looked like they needed a massage, it was her, but she didn’t acknowledge his suggestion before moving on.

“One more thing,” she said. “You’ll see you have several blocks of free time. They’re highlighted in yellow. You are, of course, free to spend that time however you wish. But”—she jabbed a finger at his chest—“if I find out you’ve so much as stepped foot near a sports car while you’re here, I will personally fetch a Japanese steel knife from the kitchen and castrate you with it. Scarlett is my witness. Do. You. Understand?”

She punctuated her question with additional jabs.

I hid my grin behind my fist while Asher raised his hands in surrender.

“Sports car. Japanese steel. Castration.” He nodded. “Understood.”

“Good.” Sloane dropped her arm, took a deep breath, and smoothed a hand over her flawlessly tailored skirt suit. “Scarlett, it was lovely to meet you. Asher, stay out of trouble.”

With that, she left. Her heels clacked against the marble floors of the suite’s entryway before the door opened and closed, and silence descended once more.

“You could look a little less entertained by her threat,” Asher said dryly. “Castration would be unfortunate for both of us.”

“Yeah, but it’d be worse for you.” I offered a cheeky smile. “At least I have dildos to take over the—aah!” I squealed when Asher swept me up with a growl and carried me to the bedroom. “Let me down, you Neanderthal!” I pounded a fist against his back, but I was laughing when he finally laid me down on the bed.

He hovered over me, his face creased with a mock scowl. “What were you saying about dildos?”

“That they’re one of mankind’s greatest inventions?” I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed away his adorably boyish pout. “But they’re not as good as something else I can think of.”

“That’s the right answer.” His lips lingered on mine for a moment before he pulled back and examined me. “How was the plane ride? Do you want me to draw you a bath?”

Warmth dripped from my chest into my stomach.

“It was okay.” Eleven hours was a long time to spend in the air, but the private jet’s luxurious amenities prevented any bad flare-ups. The seats had pressure-relief cushions, and I could walk around and stretch my legs whenever I started getting stiff. They even had a heated massage chair onboard. “I can take a bath later. Right now, I need to eat. I’m starving.”

While Asher ordered us room service, I explored our home for the next three days. The suite was twice the size of my flat in London. Its living room boasted a home theatre system and a state-of-the-art universal remote while the lavish dining room was big enough to accommodate eight. Delamonte soaps and gels lined the bathroom’s double marble vanity, and a wall of one-way tinted windows provided a dazzling view of the Tokyo cityscape. There was even a grand piano and a balcony with a second dining area.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Asher came up beside me as I stared out at the sea of lights below us. “Makes me want to watch Tokyo Drift again. Do you think Sloane will consider that ‘stepping foot near’ a sports car?”

Exasperated laughter erupted from my lips. “Don’t even joke about that. She will actually castrate you, you know, and she’ll spin it into a good PR move too. She’s terrifying.”

He grinned. “That’s why I pay her the big bucks. She puts up with a lot of shit from me.”

“Mmhmm.” I could only imagine. Being a celebrity publicist sounded like the most stressful job ever. “Like your car crashes over the past few years?”

I didn’t ask the question with the intention of being combative. It came out soft, almost hesitant, but the ease with which it escaped proved it’d always been there, lurking beneath the layers of my denial and avoidance.

Asher’s grin faded. “Yes,” he said after a long pause. “Like the crashes.”

We’d avoided the topic all summer, but Sloane’s warning had ripped my layers to shreds and bared the ten-ton elephant in the room.

My hang-ups about cars and driving were known quantities. That was why Asher hired Earl to drive me to training every week and why he was careful to stick to the traffic rules when I was with him.

But I didn’t know what he was like when I wasn’t there. Was he the same guy who made headlines for destroying his Ferrari in an illegal street race with another footballer? The one whose off-pitch antics fed into the controversy of his transfer because people worried his recklessness would eventually catch up with him and screw the whole team over?

I hadn’t asked because I hadn’t wanted to know the answer, but the question was out there now, and there was no taking it back.

“Sloane’s warning about staying away from sports cars.” My next words stuck in my throat before I forced them out. “Was that a general warning, or do you still race?”

I hated doubting him, but I had to know.

Even racing in official competitions like Formula One was dangerous, and those had safety measures in place. I’d seen footage from a few illegal street races. They were the Wild West, and the likelihood of injury or arrest was even higher than in sanctioned racing.

Asher stilled, his throat bobbing with a hard swallow. Tension coated the air like oil spilled over water.

“Not often,” he said. “I haven’t done it in a while.”

“When was the last time you raced?” I didn’t want to turn our first night in Japan into an interrogation, but I’d already opened Pandora’s box.

We might as well see it through to the end.

Shadows flickered in his eyes. “Earlier in the summer. Early July.”

Early July.

Barbs hooked into my throat. That was more recent than I’d anticipated. It was before we officially got together, but it was around the time of our first kiss.

“Does it bother you?” Asher asked quietly. “Me racing.”

“I…” I tried to wrestle my thoughts into some semblance of coherence before I answered.

I knew he loved the thrill, and I didn’t want to take that away from him. But every time he got behind the wheel, he put his career and his life in danger. Could I really sit by and let him take that risk without pointing out the dangers? He’d been lucky so far, but all it took was one stroke of bad luck to end everything.

I knew that better than anyone.

“It worries me,” I finally said. “Regular driving is dangerous enough. Accidents happen every day, but cars are an essential part of modern life. It’s a risk we have to take. Street racing is more than that.” My voice sank into a tremulous whisper. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want what happened to me to happen to you. I don’t want you to lose your dreams or…” Die.

The word wedged in my chest and clung on with bloodied nails, like it was trying to hide from the inevitability of its own passing.

I couldn’t imagine a world where Asher didn’t exist—where I didn’t hear his voice teasing me or see his smile beckoning me from across the room, where his heartbeats didn’t sync with mine when we fell asleep and where I didn’t have a constant safe harbor in the storm.

I couldn’t imagine a me without him, and that terrified me more than anything else.

Tears stung the backs of my eyes.

“Scarlett.” Asher sounded anguished as he pulled me into his chest. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

“You don’t know that.” The tears trickled down my cheeks. God, this is humiliating. I was ruining our first night overseas together, but I couldn’t stop. I’d spent years running from my fears, but the prospect of losing him was so overwhelming that I couldn’t outrun it. It swamped me, dragging me under waves of anxiety and horrible, bloody what-ifs.

I raised my head to look at him. “I used to think I was invincible. I was young and healthy and on top of the world. I thought nothing could happen to me, but I was wrong.” Emotion clogged my throat. “The thing is, I couldn’t have prevented my accident. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that’s up to the universe. But street racing…you’re choosing to put yourself in that position.”

Asher’s face crumpled. “Darling…”

“No.” I shook my head and wiped my tears with the back of my hand. “Please let me finish. I know you love racing. I do. I don’t want to discount that, and I don’t want to tell you how to live your life. But I can’t wake up every day wondering if that’s the day your luck runs out, and I’ll get a call saying you’re gone.” My words cracked. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t.” His voice sounded thick, or maybe that was the weight in my chest talking. “You won’t because I won’t race anymore. I don’t need it, but I need you.”

Another sob bled out, formed of relief and a dozen other feelings I couldn’t name.

When I was younger, my friends and I tried to guess what our future partners’ professions would be. I didn’t care much at the time, but I was adamant about not dating anyone in emergency services. No firefighters, no police, no one whose job involved them running headfirst into danger for a living.

In theory, a footballer should be safe, but there was nothing safe about my feelings for Asher.

Maybe I was selfish for asking him to give up something he loved. If that was the case, then so be it.

I would rather be selfish with him alive and healthy than selfless with him buried beneath the ground.

Asher tightened his hold on me. “I won’t race anymore,” he repeated. “I promise.”