Novel-novel oleh Victor Gold

The hot water was sliding down my back, but I couldn't feel it. I stood there, eyes closed, letting the steam fill the small shower stall until I could barely breathe.Bianca had left this morning. She’d kissed my cheek, told me she had "some things to settle" back home, and promised she’d be back before I even missed her. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I was already gone. I wasn't her brother anymore. I was a stranger living in a skin that felt too tight.It hadn't even been a month. Less than four weeks in Montreal with Nikolai Volkov, and I was already breaking. Every time I looked at her, I felt sick because I saw him. And every time I looked at him... I just saw the end of everything I knew.I turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping a white towel around my waist. I needed to clear my head. The hotel’s spa was empty this late, and the steam room was calling to me. I needed a place where I couldn't see anything, where the world was just gray mist.I pushed open the

I found a small coffee shop three blocks away from the hotel. It was tucked into a quiet corner, far enough that I hoped no one from the team would find me.After the meeting a few days ago, I couldn't breathe. The snickers from the other players when I walked out of the lounge were still ringing in my ears. They thought it was funny. They thought I was just some rich boy getting put in his place by the big, bad Captain.I took a sip of my black coffee, staring out the window. My hands were still a little shaky. I just needed some peace. I needed to not be "Alessandro Moretti" for an hour.But as I sat there, a strange chill started to creep into my bones. The morning had started out fine, but now, the air felt freezing. I looked down at my light sweater and sighed. I was shivering, my teeth almost chattering."Enough," I whispered to myself.I stood up, pulling my baseball cap lower over my eyes to hide my face. I didn't want any fans or press recognizing me. I walked out the door, h

"Ale? Are you even there?"Bianca’s voice came through the phone, sharp and clear, but it felt like it was coming from a different planet. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the spot on the carpet where Nikolai had stood nights ago."Yeah, B. I’m here. I’m listening," I said, rubbing my face with my free hand."You don't sound like you're listening. I was saying that the modeling agency here is incredible. The interview went so well! Montreal is so different from Boston. People actually care about style here."Bianca had left two days ago for a shoot. It should have made things easier. But after that night in the gym—after Nikolai had pinned me down and looked like he was about to break into a million pieces—he had just... stopped. He got up, wiped the blood from his hands, and walked out without a word.Since then, he hadn't said a thing to me. He wouldn't even look at me in the hallways. I was beyond confused. One minute he was crying on my chest, and the next he was a

Three days.I had managed to avoid Nikolai Volkov for three whole days. In the world I live, with Nikolai practically breathing everywhere, that was practically a miracle. I had mastered the art of "busy." I was always in a meeting with the marketing team, always tucked away in the video room with the scouts, or always conveniently on the phone when I saw a massive, black-clad figure turning the corner of the hotel hallway.I didn't understand him. I really didn't.For weeks, he had treated me like a plague. He looked at me with enough disgust to wither a plant. Then, on that bus, he had turned into a different person. Territorial. Aggressive. Feral. The way he talked to me—the things he said about the way I tasted—it didn't make sense. One minute I was "filth," and the next he was willing to crash a bus just to keep me."Ale? You still on planet earth?"I blinked, looking up from my tablet. I was sitting in the arena lounge with Marco, the team’s starting goalie and probably the only

I woke up earlier than expected because someone is knocking on my door.Not gentle knocking. Real knocking.“Alessandro. Are you alive in there?”Bianca.I sit up and rub my face.My head feels heavy. I barely slept.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Nikolai’s face. Felt his hand in my hair. Heard his voice in my ear.I push the thought away and get up.“Yeah,” I say. “Give me a second.”I open the door.Bianca is standing there with two coffee cups in her hands. She’s wearing one of my hoodies and gym leggings. Her hair is tied back.She smiles.“Morning.”“Morning.”She hands me one of the cups.“You look terrible,” she says.“Thank you.”“I’m serious. Did you sleep at all?”“Not really.” I said with a sigh.She walks into the room like it’s hers and sits on the edge of the bed.“Jet lag?” she asked her face looking a bit worried“Something like that.”She watches me for a moment while I drink the coffee.Then she says, “I saw Nikolai this morning.”My hand pauses halfway to my mou

The car ride to the airport was silent, but it wasn't a peaceful silence. It was the kind of quiet that felt like a bomb with a ticking timer. Nikolai sat as far away from me as possible, staring out at the streets. Every time the car hit a bump and our shoulders brushed, he would stiffen like I had burned him.By the time we boarded the plane, I was a nervous wreck. The Titans players were all there, eyeing me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. I was the billionaire’s son, the guy in the viral video, and now their "consultant." I felt like an alien in a locker room."Sit," Nikolai commanded, pointing to the seat next to him in the back of the plane."I can sit with the staff, Nikolai. I don't want to make things weird for the team."He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my jacket. "I said sit. If you're going to be my guard, start now. I don't want people asking why my consultant is hiding in the galley."I sat. The flight to Montreal was short, but it felt like ten hours.