《Playing Dirty》全部章節：第 1 章 - 第 10 章

If someone asked me why I hate Mateo Carter, I’d probably say it’s for a lot of reasons, but the truth is it all comes down to how easy it is for him to ruin everything without caring, because he plays dirty, on and off the ice, because he’s always smiling like nothing has consequences, because he never loses, because he always gets what he wants and people follow him even when they shouldn’t, because he has that reputation as a player, a heartbreaker, like it’s something to be proud of, and still no one seems to see him for what he really is, and what pisses me off the most is that someone like him, someone exactly like that, is the one who’s with Sofi now, like it wasn’t enough having him as a rival, I also have to deal with him being this close, right in my life, in hers, like he somehow belongs there… when he doesn’t.And maybe the worst part is that this isn’t just about him.It’s about her.Because Sofi has always been mine… not like that, not officially, but she has been since

I feel something inside me tighten all at once, like a switch I didn’t even know I had just got flipped, and before I realize it I’m already moving forward, not thinking, not measuring, because there are things you just don’t see and walk away from.“What the hell are you doing?” I snap at Mateo.My voice comes out louder than I expected, heavy, sharp, and for the first time all night, things aren’t going the way he planned.He pulls away from the girl with complete calm, like this is nothing more than an awkward interruption, like what just happened isn’t enough to make any normal person panic.He runs a hand through his hair, exhales, and looks at us.“Seriously?” he says. “This is my room. Did I give you permission to come in?”I stare at him, incredulous.“Are you hearing yourself?”The girl he was with has already stepped aside, uncomfortable, watching the scene like she’s reconsidering every decision she’s made in the last ten minutes.Good for her.Sofi takes a step forward, bu

The dinner starts off uncomfortable, but not the kind you can hide behind polite smiles and light conversation, this is heavier, constant, like something is about to break at any moment and only two people at the table are actually aware of it.My mom and Mark are happy.Too happy.They talk nonstop about plans, dates, details that clearly mean a lot to them, but to me just sound like a countdown to something I don’t want to live through.“We’re thinking of having the wedding in two months,” my mom says with a smile that doesn’t fade.Two months.Perfect.Plenty of time for this to get even worse.“And after that we’d love for everyone to live together,” Mark adds, calm, like it’s the most logical idea in the world. “There’s more than enough space in the house.”Of course.Because living under the same roof with him sounds like a dream.“It’ll make things easier,” my mom continues, “for you to get to know each other, to build a relationship.”I can’t help it, a low, dry laugh slips ou

The first night in the mansion of that idiot and my new stepfather was pure hell. Every time the hardwood floor creaked in the hallway, I froze in bed, staring at the ceiling with my heart in my throat, waiting for my bedroom door to swing open. It didn't, but Mateo’s warning kept echoing in my head like a persistent echo: “Whenever you want to pick a fight and talk trash to me... I’m going to shut you up with a kiss.” «Arrogant bastard.» By six in the morning, I couldn't handle the claustrophobia of my four walls anymore. I threw on a pair of athletic shorts and a loose gray t-shirt, set on heading down to the kitchen for a strong cup of coffee and slipping out for a run before the rest of the house woke up. Big mistake. As I stepped into the kitchen, illuminated by the cold light of dawn, I found Mateo with his back to me, leaning against the granite island. Wearing a full set of clothes seemed to be a concept he was allergic to in this house: he wore only gray sweat shorts, sh

I slammed into the mansion, the pulse pounding in my ears like a stampede. The front door shut behind me with a heavy thud that echoed through the marble foyer, and I took the stairs three at a time, feeling my blood boiling at a dangerous temperature. The vibration of my phone in my pocket was still burning against my thigh, as if that picture of Mateo and his brazen text had been branded into my skin. And there he was. Standing right in the middle of the hallway under the skylight, looking completely unbothered, like he owned the damn place. He was wearing my gray pajama pants—a pair that hung loose on me, but fit him outrageously tight around the hips and thighs—and he was completely shirtless. Drops of water from his recent shower were slowly running down the center of his chest, tracing the ridges of his abs before disappearing under the waistband of the pants. “I’ve had it with you, Mateo!” I yelled, closing the distance in long strides until I was less than three feet from hi