Semua Bab PLAYING FOR KEEPS: MY FAKE ALL AMERICAN QB BOYFRIEND : Bab 1 - Bab 10

Siena's povMy legs are moving on autopilot. The hallways blur, while the agency’s chatter morphs into a distant hum like I am hearing it through the water.I push through the exit door and stumble outside to the back of the building, my breath coming short and shallow. My chest feels tight—too tight, too much, My heart is palpitating too fast as if its on a mission to break free from its cage. I sink down onto the cool concrete steps, gripping my knees.“Sienna, Breathe,” I will myself. But I can’t.My lungs refuse to expand, and my vision is tunneling. My hands shake as I press them to my chest, desperate to stop the crushing weight pressing down on me. Everything is slipping away. The house. My mom’s memory. My stability. My entire life!A sharp gasp rips from my throat and I clutch at my ribs, trying to rip away the force burning in my chest, stealing away my goddamn breath. It feels like I am drowning.“Hey, hey—breathe.”A deep, steady voice cuts through the fog, and sudde

Jax's pov This is the most ludicrous thing I've ever done in my entire 27 years of life. I am standing in the middle of Émile Laurent’s private showroom, staring at the array of limited-edition gowns like they are a defensive line ready to crush me. The designer himself—a flamboyant man with a sharp eye for style and an even sharper tongue—is slumped lazily over a velvet couch, sipping what looks like a green smoothie but, knowing Laurent, is probably some overpriced detox elixir designed to make mere mortals feel inadequate. “I always thought choosing women’s clothes was easy,” I mutter under my breath, running a hand through my hair. “I’d rather ditch this for a suited-up practice during summer in the open field.” Across from me, Émile Laurent—fashion’s golden boy and the designer responsible for tonight’s exclusive collection—grins like a devil in silk. He’s already draped in one of his own creations, a sleek black tux with gold embroidery that somehow doesn’t look ridiculous

Sienna's pov The sharp, relentless ringing of my phone rips me out of sleep like a sledgehammer to the skull. I groan, burying my face deeper into my pillow, willing whoever it is to just go away.The ringing stops.Bless.I sigh, shifting under the covers, trying to slip back into unconsciousness—The phone starts blaring again.I swear under my breath, fumbling blindly for it on my nightstand. The screen is too bright, the letters swimming in my still-sleepy vision. I don’t even check the caller ID before answering, voice groggy and irritated.“What?”A gruff chuckle filters through the line, and my stomach sinks.“Well, good morning to you too, princess.”Shit.I sit up instantly, pressing my fingers against my temple as my father’s slurred voice fills my ear. “So,” he drawls, dragging the word out, “I have to find out from my friends—from the newspapers, the internet—that my only daughter is out here bagging a quarterback?”I close my eyes, rubbing the bridge of my nose. Here we

SIENNA BLAKE’S POV Switching off the audience’s voice, I get on my tiptoes and seal my mouth to his, then suck on his bottom lip before releasing it, but I don't push back, “You were amazing tonight. So here is your after-game kiss,” I mumble close to his lips that if I puckered them, I would be kissing him. His bright blue eyes glisten before his lips pull in a slight smile, “Then I am gonna need more than this,” he growls before attacking my lips in a full-blown kiss. “Carter, get a room,” a voice howls over the crowd’s voices. A frown appears between his brows, but it quickly disappears before it appeared, “Bigfoot, let's go and hit the showers.” “I will see you outside,” he pecks my lips before he lets me go and steps away. “Outside?” I pause, confused. “Yes, outside” his glistening lips pull in a smile before he mutters, “Yesmy team and I always go to celebrate a win over some drink, so I thought you would join us.” I pause “I-uh-I ca…,”“Forget it, you're joining us.” h

What?” I stumble backwards my back pressing against the door. “T-there m-must be a misunderstanding-I cleared my dad’s debt a few days ago-you’ve got it all w-” “No we don’t,” their leader reaches out and grabs my forearm. “Sienna, yes your piece of shit of a dad owes us more than what you did cash in.” he leans in closer, his boozy breath fanning my face. “Please don’t make us result to violence and come with us.” “N-o, no he is here sleeping…l-lets ask him if that's true,” I blurt yanking my hand from his grip before walking towards the living room. “D-dad…dad wake up,” he grumbles,” tell these guys they all got it wrong…we don’t owe them anymore.” “Mmmh,” he shifts before slumping back to sleep. “Wake up,” the leader slaps him and my dad jolts forward, his bloodshot eyes wide. “You piece of shit! You owe us our money!” “I don’t owe you bastards shit!” my dad spits, swaying unsteadily, voice cracking. “You know I'm tired of playing this little game with you,” he bel