The Offer (London Players #1), page 1
The Offer
London Players #1
Becca Steele
The Offer
Copyright © 2021 by Becca Steele
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Editing by One Love Editing
Becca Steele
www.authorbeccasteele.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s crazy imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Playlist
Take Me Back to London - Ed Sheeran, Stormzy
Troublemaker - Olly Murs, Flo Rida
Here With Me - Marshmello, CHVRCHES
Joy - Bastille
Just You and I - Tom Walker
If I Can’t Have You - Shawn Mendes
Lying to Yourself - Lily Moore
Better - ZAYN
Let Me Down Slowly - Alec Benjamin
Never Be Alone - Shawn Mendes
House of Cards - Tyler Shaw
The Cure - Little Mix
Wings - Birdy
fOoL fOr YoU - ZAYN
Find the playlist on Spotify or YouTube
Author’s note
The author is British, and British English spellings and phrases are used throughout.
For Brenda
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Thank You
Acknowledgments
Also by Becca Steele
About the Author
Prologue
PAST
Wedding day
Facing the double doors that would lead me to my future husband, everything inside me screamed that I was making a mistake—that there was still time to back out. But, as always, my mother’s face came into my mind, with the words she’d constantly drummed into me.
“Ralph is a good catch, Victoria. He’ll treat you well, and his connections are incomparable. You’ll be a good match. He thinks the world of you, you know.”
Did he? I wasn’t sure. Not anymore.
Our relationship had been a whirlwind. I’d been swept off my feet by this handsome, charming man, who knew all the right words to say and was offering the security I’d longed for. My father had passed away when I was fourteen, and it had hit us all hard—me, my mother, and my older brother, Ethan. I’d been adrift for so long, and when I’d met Ralph Chamberlain-Rees at one of the society parties that my mother had dragged me to, I was instantly drawn to him. Tall, blond, with a slim build, he was ten years older than me and had a career as a successful hedge fund investor. In short, he was the perfect catch…on paper.
We’d dated for two months before he proposed, and still swept up in the newness of our relationship, I’d said yes immediately.
Then, the cracks had begun to appear. Rumours of my fiancé playing away from home on his business trips, whispers of a gambling addiction… Soon the stories became more frequent, to the point where I began to question what I knew of my future husband.
I’d chosen to believe Ralph when he’d told me that there was no truth to the rumours, but the knot in my stomach never went away.
Now, next to me, my brother shifted on his feet. There was no love lost between him and Ralph, and he’d made his opinions clear to me ever since I’d announced my engagement.
“V? It’s not too late to back out, if you want to.” He lowered his head to look down at me, concern in his gaze.
Tears filled my eyes, and I bit my lip, hard. “No. I’m doing this.”
I squared my shoulders and focused on the doors leading into the drawing room.
My future husband awaited me.
I didn’t know what it was that had led me to go back to Ralph’s and my lavish suite when I was supposed to be toasting my new marriage with some of my bridesmaids. Ralph was elsewhere, supposedly playing poker with a number of his groomsmen and friends. I’d given an excuse about wanting to change out of my wedding dress and into something more comfortable, but something—call it a premonition, maybe—led me up the sweeping staircase of the manor house. As I opened the heavy wooden door with the big, old-fashioned iron key, I heard a moan, followed by a grunting sound, and the key fell from my hand onto the soft carpet. Slipping off my shoes, I moved, barefoot, through the suite in the direction of the bedroom.
There was my new husband, lying on our bed among tangled sheets, gripping the head of a woman with long, chestnut hair while she went down on him, both of them fully naked.
As I stood frozen in the doorway, he looked up, and his eyes met mine. His already pale face drained of all colour, and his mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.
Clapping a hand over my mouth, I stumbled backwards.
Then, I fled the suite.
I was barely able to make it to the loos before the nausea overtook me.
Much later that night, I dared to return after an awkward conversation with the front desk about the loss of my key. Ralph was nowhere to be found.
I stood, staring at the rumpled bed sheets, wondering how and when I’d misjudged things so badly.
My marriage was over before it had even begun.
PAST
One year ago
The angry roar of the crowds fuelled the despair fizzing through my blood. 34-24. The London Hawks had lost to the Worcester Warriors, taking us one step further away from the top of the Premiership. I’d been sent off fifty minutes into the game for foul play. Fucking Matthews knew just how to push my buttons, and when I’d been shown the red card, my teammates had to hold me back from going for him again.
The usual post-match interviews came and went in a blur, and then I was finally showered and changed, ready to get out of there. Ignoring my teammates, I headed for the back exit and escaped onto the streets of London unnoticed. My hood pulled up, I kept my head down until I was safely inside my destination, a large busy pub on the river. A pub far away from the rugby ground, where the clientele was less likely to recognise me.
I was alone, but that was the way I wanted it. I needed to drink. To forget that this loss, that my actions, could cost us the season.
Stepping up to the bar, I ordered a shot of vodka.
Then another.
Until everything disappeared into a blurry haze.
“Jake! Do you think your actions cost the Hawks the match?”
A roar of rage tore from my throat as the camera was shoved in my face, the reporter crowding me against the outside wall of the pub, leaving me with no escape.
“Get the fuck out of my face!” Shoving him with all my strength, I sent him sprawling into the road, where a car had to make a sudden swerve, the driver leaning angrily on the horn.
“You’ll regret that.” The reporter spat his threat at me, climbing to his feet. He’d managed to keep hold of his camera, and through my blurry vision, I noticed him lifting it and pointing in my direction.
That did it. Launching myself at him, I ripped the camera from his hand, throwing it across the pavement, then punched him for good measure. I was drunk, and my punch was no more than a glancing blow off his chin, but as soon as I’d done it, I realised my mistake.
People had begun to crowd around us, holding their phones up, capturing every moment of my altercation with the reporter.
Fuck.
By the following morning, my reputation, already shaky, had been cemented.
I was branded as rugby’s bad boy, and the tabloids were out for blood.
1
PRESENT
“My hands are tied. The board have spoken, and there’s nothing I can do. If you want to stay on the team, you need a drastic change. Now. Are you sure you don’t want me to hire you a publicist? She can have you—”
“For the last time, no. It was no the first time you asked me, and it’s still fucking no,” I growled, pushing my chair back and storming over to the window. From behind me, I heard Drew, my manager, sigh wearily.
“You need to do something, Jake. You’re one of our best players. But you’re at the point where your antics could cost you your career. The board are talking of trading you to a lower-division team.”
I stared out over Wells Way Stadium, home of the London Hawks premiership rugby team, and my home for the past three years. Being a professional rugby player was all I’d ever wanted. To know that my career was in jeopardy thanks to some stupid fucking headlines? The tabloids were obsessed with me, nicknaming me “rugby’s bad boy.” Most of the shit they spouted was complete lies, but people were either too stupid to see that, or they wanted it to be true, so believed it anyway.
Turning back from the window, I met my manager’s eyes. “Give me a few days to think. I
“Okay.” His lined face was more serious than I’d ever seen it before. “You need to come up with something that will satisfy the board. It’s not only your reputation at stake, it’s the club’s, too.”
“I know.” There was nothing more to be said, so I made for the door.
“Jake?”
I paused in the doorway, turning to look back at him.
“Don’t let me down. I want you on the team.”
With a sharp nod, I left him.
What the fuck was I supposed to do?
Out in the corridor, I ran into Alex Bryan, my friend and teammate. “Afternoon, mate.” His face broke into a grin when he saw me, his blue eyes sparkling. They dimmed when he took me in. “What’s up?”
“Just had a meeting with Drew. If I don’t clean up my act, they’re gonna drop me.”
He stared at me, his brows pulled together. “What? They can’t do that.”
Sighing, I began to walk in the direction of the exit, Alex falling into step with me. “They can. The board had a meeting.”
“Anything I can do to help?” Alex held the door open, letting me through before he stepped out after me.
“Unless you can magically make the tabloids love me, no.”
He stopped dead, gripping my arm. “Wait. I can’t do that, but are you busy? Got time for a pint?”
“Not sure that the pub is gonna solve anything, mate.”
“It won’t, but Ethan might. He’s good with advice and shit.”
Ethan Barrett. One of Alex’s two best friends. Owner of Barrett London, a boutique and highly sought-after digital marketing agency. Rich, successful, and an all-around good guy.
“Yeah. I have time for a pint,” I found myself saying. Maybe Ethan would be able to help out.
It was worth a try, because I was out of ideas.
Settled in a wooden booth in the corner of the busy pub, I lifted my pint glass to my lips, letting the cool liquid slide down my throat while I waited for Ethan’s verdict.
“I feel for you.” Luke Davenport, Alex’s other best friend, spoke up. He ran his hand through his deep brown hair, a smirk on his face. “Maybe you shouldn’t have spent so much time in the sin bin this season. Oh, and headbutting Thomas and getting the suspension.”
“Thomas deserved it,” Alex cut in, leaning forwards over the table and brimming with indignation. “Did you see that tackle on Southall? The ref didn’t even catch it.”
Ethan tapped his phone on the table, turning our attention away from my misdemeanours and onto him. His dark eyes focused on me. “I may have an idea. I need to speak to the other person involved first, but how would you feel about dating?”
“No, thanks. That’s the last thing I need right now.” I drained the rest of my pint and thumped my glass back on the table.
“Hold on. Let me explain. I’m talking a mutually beneficial arrangement, where both of you are in agreement that the dates are just for show. Be seen in a few high-profile places, look like you’re enjoying it, the paps take your picture…” He grinned. “It’s the perfect plan.”
“Wait a minute.” Luke stared at him. “Are you forgetting how you ended up with a fiancée? Does a fake wedding date ring any bells? Jake isn’t interested in a relationship.”
“This is nothing like that,” Ethan insisted. “Avery and I had chemistry from the beginning. I just chose to ignore it. This time, if the person I’m thinking of agrees, I know that there will be absolutely no risk. Jake is not only not her type, she isn’t his either. They couldn’t be more different. Believe me, there is no chance of any attraction.”
“Hmm.” Luke’s hum of disbelief brought a hint of a smile to my face. He drained his own pint and stood. “I need to get going if I don’t want to be late to meet Liv. Jake—good luck. Sounds like you might need it.”
I rolled my eyes. “You reckon?” Turning to address Ethan, I continued. “Count me in for these fake dates. As long as you understand I wouldn’t even consider this if I wasn’t in deep shit with the club.”
“Leave it with me.” Ethan stood, too, grabbing his briefcase from the seat next to him. “I’ll get back to you by tomorrow.”
“In the meantime, slide your eyes to your left.” Alex spoke in a low voice, and I followed his gaze to two women perched on stools at one of the high tables by the window, both eyeing us appreciatively.
“This is the kind of view I like.” I let my gaze trail over the woman closest to the window, noting her lips curve up as she crossed and uncrossed her legs, drinking me in.
“No.” My head turned to see Ethan still standing there, frowning down at me. “No other women while this fake dating is happening.”
“It hasn’t even started yet.” Alex threw him an unimpressed look.
“It will be happening if I have anything to do with it. No other women.”
I raised my hands. “Whatever, mate. I have plenty of self-control. I’m sure I can handle a few weeks without sex, or however long this needs to go on for.”
“Can you?”
Alex’s horrified stare had both me and Ethan laughing. “Yeah, mate. I can.” I sobered up as I reminded him of the whole reason that we were doing this. “It’s my career on the line. As much as I love women, rugby means everything to me. I guess I didn’t realise I’d fucked up badly enough to put it at risk.”
“Yeah. You’re right. I’m not losing my teammate.” He reached over and patted me on the shoulder. “In fact, I can be your sponsor. You know how people have an AA sponsor that they call when they’re tempted?”
“Yes…”
“If you see a woman that catches your eye, you can call me, and I’ll take care of the situation for you. Once she sees me, she’ll be all, ‘Jake who?’”
“Great plan,” Ethan said dryly. “Anyway, I’ll call you tomorrow at the latest. Maybe even later this evening.” He lifted his hand in farewell, then turned and made his way through the crowds, heading in the direction of the pub doors.
“Do you think this is a good idea?” I asked Alex once he was gone.
Alex stared down at the table, flipping a beer mat over and over as he thought. “I do,” he said eventually. “It’s worth trying, at least. What do you have to lose?”
Nothing. It wasn’t as if I could make things much worse.
I just had to hope that Ethan came through for me.
2
Curled up on the sofa in Ethan and Avery’s penthouse apartment, I ignored my phone which was lighting up with messages with an increased frequency. I was this close to blocking my mother. Yes, she was my mother, but her interfering nature was stifling me. I just wanted to hide away.
Who ends up with an annulled marriage at twenty-four, after only being married for a few months? Me. The day of my wedding, I’d known deep down that I was making a mistake. Instead of backing out, I chose to ignore the signs. My ex-husband didn’t even wait for the ink to dry on our marriage licence before he was sleeping with another woman. And she wasn’t the only one either.
When I’d found out, and I realised that the overriding emotion I was feeling was relief, I knew that our charade of a marriage had to end. Looking back, I don’t think I’d even loved him. Not really. More, the idea of him. He certainly hadn’t loved me, that was for sure. He wanted someone respectable to look pretty on his arm and charm his business associates and society acquaintances.
We’d never consummated our marriage, not after I’d found him with the other woman in our hotel room on our wedding night. Three months into our sham of a marriage, we’d agreed on an annulment, and I moved back in with my mother. The previous nine or ten months, or however long we’d suffered together, had been like hell, in all honesty. She’d spent the first few months begging me to take my ex-husband back, and when she realised that it wasn’t going to happen, she’d changed tactics. Now, she was desperately trying to find me a man. As if I needed a man to be happy.
