Of all the things I’d fabricated in my head, this isn’t something I’d ever considered. I’m pissed that she could be so damn stupid, but now I understand her fear. No wonder Tony had her under his thumb with this shit. If he still has the tapes, as he claimed, then he has enough evidence to land them both in jail. What a fucking wanker. Why keep hold of something like that? If it's possible, I dislike Tony even more now. What a fucking bastard.

  I want to help her, but I have no idea how. This isn't exactly my area of expertise. I’ve got no idea how to deal with this shit. I want to suggest that she own up to what happened, but with the risk of losing Jake, I know she won't go for that. Not that I blame her. I probably wouldn't do it, either.

  Come on. There has to be something I can do.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket. I reach for it and check the number. I don't recognize it. Shrugging, I press answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, this Ryder Stevens?”

  “Depends who's asking.” I don't recognize the voice, and with the recent developments, I’m suspicious of anything—or anyone—new.

  The male voice chuckles. “Sorry, this is Jim Harmer. Cally’s father? You coached my daughter for a little while there.”

  “Of course, Jim. How can I help you?” I say, my tone friendlier.

  “I have an odd question for you. Or rather, a proposition. Are you still playing these days?” he asks.

  “That is yet to be decided,” I mumble, running my hand through my hair. “So what is it you wanted to ask?”

  “Right,” he says. “I'm just going to come right out and say it. Would you be interested in coaching my daughter on a full-time permanent basis?”

  What the fuck? I nearly drop the phone. I manage to compose myself, but just barely. Is he for real? Surely there are better alternatives than me—especially for the money this guy can lay out.

  “Me?” is all I manage to reply.

  “I know you have no experience as a coach, but you're the only person she has listened to since she was five. She doesn't even listen to me.”

  “I'm not sure I'd call what she was doing listening,” I chuckle.

  He laughs in response.

  “Wow, sorry, I'm just in shock. I was not expecting this,” I mumble. My future is not even on my radar at the moment.

  “You don’t need to make a decision right away. Tell you what: Wimbledon starts next week. You know Cally has a wildcard entry, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say. I think I know where this is headed.

  “How do you feel about coaching her for that tournament? I'll make the remuneration worth your while. After, then you can decide whether it might be something you'd consider.” He pauses. “If not, then that's fine. No hard feelings.”

  “Okay. Yeah, sure. That sounds like a plan. When does she fly in?” I ask, distracted.

  “Saturday morning. Her match is Tuesday afternoon against Stephanie Raviskovic, ranked number 178 in the world. This is her first major at an elite level. More than anything, this is just a learning experience for her.”

  “Okay. And will you be flying over too?”

  “It's my daughter’s first professional tennis match. At Wimbledon. Of course I'm going to be there.” He laughs.

  I like this guy already.

  ***

  Prepping myself to coach Cally provides me with a minor distraction from Scarlett. I call Matt to let him know about Jim's call and my decision to trial coaching her. Matt is shocked, and I think a little impressed that I’m actually capable of behaving like an adult.

  I haven't heard from Scar, and to be honest I'm kind of glad. I have no idea what to say to her. She left in such a hurry this morning that nothing was really resolved. Everything is still just hanging in the air, and I have no idea where we're at.

  Telling me must have been such a hard thing to do. Of course, she wasn't left with much choice. It was either let me think really bad things, or tell the truth. And now I feel guilty, because while she has come clean, I'm still hiding something. There's still the issue of Tony, and the fact that I paid him off.

  I just wish she could have told me earlier. I paid this guy two hundred grand to fuck off. If I’d known what he had on her, I would have added stipulations—like demanding all copies of the tapes, and whatever other evidence he has.

  But it is too late now. It is what it is.

  God, it must be killing her, trying to figure out why he isn't bothering her anymore. I never even thought about that, but she must be going insane. I know I would be.

  ***

  It’s after seven when Scar and Jake walk through the door. She gives me an uncertain smile as she shrugs off her jacket, folding it over the back of the couch. Jake yawns and slumps onto the couch beside it. He looks exhausted. They both do.

  “Hungry?” I ask. I walk over to Scar and kiss her cheek.

  She smiles at me, but I can see the sadness hiding in her eyes. Is she embarrassed? Ashamed that I know? Because that's the last thing I want her to feel. After considering everything, I don't want her to feel that she has anything to feel sorry for, and I know I need to tell her that. I’m the last person who should be judging anyone.

  “We ate at the hospital,” she mumbles.

  I watch as she leans forward and ruffles Jake’s hair.

  “Ready for a bath?” she asks with a grin. He nods.

  I follow her down to the bathroom and watch her run the bath.

  “We need to talk about this morning,” I say, my voice soft.

  “I know we do.” She looks defeated. “Just let me get Jake into bed first.”

  ***

  With Jake fast asleep in bed, I crack open a bottle of wine—because I have a feeling that we're both going to need it. I pour two glasses and carry them into the living room, where Scar is waiting for me. She accepts one of the glasses as I slide onto the seat next to her.

  “Let me start by saying something,” I begin, “I want you to know that what you've told me changes nothing about the way I feel for you. I've done stupid things in my past, and I can see how much you regret what you did.”

  “I do regret it. More than you’ll ever know,” she whispers.

  “You can trust me, Scar. I love you.”

  Tears roll down her cheeks. It's the first time I've said those words to her. Hell, it’s the first time I've said those words to anyone. It feels right. Everything with her feels right.

  Chapter Twelve

  Scarlett

  “Scar,” Ryder whispers. He reaches out and touches my face. “I need you to be completely honest with me. I need to know everything.”

  I nod, and wipe my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I cross my legs and straighten my posture. The relief of him knowing is indescribable. And I can't believe how well he is taking this. It does make me wonder if he understands how serious this is, should it get into the wrong hands.

  This nightmare has been following me around for years. I’ve spent the best part of the last few years looking over my shoulder. Waiting. Expecting. Because he always comes back, and he always wants more. For some strange reason¸ telling Ryder makes me feel hope that this will all end soon.

  One way or another.

  “What do you want to know?” I ask. Does he want details? Because every single second of those nights are locked away in my mind, untouched, waiting to resurface.

  I remember everything. I remember how empty I was feeling, how alone I was. A new town, just me and Jake. I was working two jobs while trying to look after my sick mother and my sick son. That's too much for any one person to handle.

  After Mom had died, I was devastated. I wasn't sure how I was going to go on. I'm an independent person, but there is only so much one can do alone. And I’d reached my limit.

  Enter Tony. I’d known he hadn't changed. He was the same slimy piece of scum who’d left me alone and pregnant when I was sixteen. But I wanted to believe.

  “I want to help you, Scar. I want to make sure that this is the last time he ever bothers you. But to do that, I need details. I know you’re sorry for what happened, but right now you need to tell me everything you remember about what you did.”

  He reaches for my hand. I jump as his fingers touch mine. How is he okay with this? I don't get it, but right now I don't have time to question it.

  “The first two weren't that memorable.” I run a hand through my hair and breathe deeply, the air burning as it fills my lungs. “I approached them both in the bar. Convincing them to take me back to their rooms was much easier than I’d thought it would be.”

  I take a deep breath and close my eyes. This wasn’t getting any easier.

  “Tony picked the men. Old. Well-dressed. And wearing a wedding ring. They were the requirements. It was always an expensive hotel, because the whole idea was money.” I laugh and shake my head. “Everything was about the money.”

  “The videos, what do they show?” he asks.

  “The first few times things were stopped before they progressed too far. Tony made it clear that he was going to protect me, but I didn't have to do anything I didn't want to. He would get the shots with the implication of what was happening there, and that was enough for the men to cave.”

  “What exactly does he have on you? A video of you engaging in consensual sex with someone isn't going to be enough to get you into trouble,” he says, his expression darkening.

  “I know,” I say. “And it wasn’t even sex.”

  I close my eyes, wishing there was some way for me to get out of saying what I was about to say.

  “By the fourth time, it finally sunk in that he was using me. I told him I wasn't going to do any more. He snapped and threatened me. He told me if I didn't do it one more time, he’d make sure I spent a good part of Jake’s childhood behind bars.”

  “So you did it again,” he sighs.

  “Yes. Only this time, Tony was out for more money.” I laugh, because this sounds ridiculous. “Honestly? I didn't even know who the guy was at first. I thought the plan was the same: we’d go to his room, get intimate, and Tony would come rushing in saying I was only sixteen.”

  “What happened?” Ryder moves closer to me.

  I hold my breath as his fingers run along my hairline, a shiver racing down my back. I’m so freaking lucky he is taking this so well. How many guys would stand by their girl after hearing this?

  “He didn't stop it. I kept waiting and waiting for him to come in and help me, but it never happened. I said no, I told the guy I didn't want this, but he just laughed and told me he’d already paid my ‘pimp’ to have me for the night, and that he was going to get his money's worth.”

  “Scar . . . he raped you?”

  “I guess so.” I shrug. At the time, I’d put it down to karma: I’d gotten what I deserved after what I did to those other men.

  Tears roll down my cheeks. I wipe my eyes and stare down at the bedspread, embarrassed and ashamed of myself.

  “I can't believe this,” Ryder mumbles. He jumps to his feet and paces the room, cursing every few steps. “That fucking wanker. I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill the bastard.”

  He turns to me, his brow furrowing. He walks back over and sits down next to me on the bed, taking my hand firmly in his. “Scar, this isn't your fault. Why has he been carrying this around for so long? Go to the police. What the hell can he do to you?”

  “It's not that easy, Ryder. I wish to fucking God it was. He—” I pause and close my eyes. “We scammed four men out of thirty thousand dollars each. That's a hundred and twenty grand. That's fraud. Blackmail. That's what he has over me. That last guy? That was just payback, his way of getting revenge on me.” I laugh and shake my head. “He had me raped, Ryder. He wouldn’t hesitate to ruin my life again.”

  I sigh as his arms wrap around me. Why is he still here? How can he not run after hearing what I just told him?

  “Who’s the guy, Scar? The guy who paid to sleep with you?”

  My palms begin to sweat as my pulse speeds up. I knew this question was coming, but I’m hesitant to tell him the truth because I know he’ll be out for blood, and I’m not sure how much this guy is to blame. He thought he’d paid for a hooker.

  But I can’t lie to him anymore. I’m tired, and if there’s one thing all this has taught me it’s that secrets never stay secret for long.

  “Matt,” I whisper, lowering my eyes. I brace myself for his reaction, which I know isn’t going to be good.

  His forehead creases, then his eyes widen in shock. “As in my manager?”

  I nod, unable to speak over the lump in my throat. I’d recognized his voice when I’d called for Ryder’s location when he left my house after seeing Tony. Thank God he didn’t recognize mine. But why would he? I was just some slut he thought he’d paid to sleep with nearly two years ago.

  “Fuck,” Ryder curses, leaning forward. “Matt is the cunt who raped you?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ryder

  How do I feel right now? Like I want to hunt that piece-of-shit Tony down and kill him. I can’t believe I gave that wanker two hundred grand. He should be in jail.

  I’m still in shock after hearing the full story. I barely slept. All I could think about was poor Scar, and how she’d blamed herself all these years. I sigh. I feel useless, like there’s nothing I can do to help her, and it’s driving me crazy. I handled that so fucking badly. She needed support and I’d made it all about me.

  It’s Sunday afternoon, and I’m about to go meet Cally and her father at the club. Scar is at the hospital with Jake all day today to prepare for the trial that begins tomorrow. It’s going to be a big week, between Wimbledon and Jake’s treatment. As badly as I want to sort this shit out—and pummel the fuck out of Matt—I know now is not the time.

  I meet Cally and Jim in one of the training rooms of the club. Cally actually looks happy to see me, and she runs over and gives me a hug. I reciprocate, surprised by her display of affection.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “Nervous. Terrified. Like, going to shit my pants.”

  “Cally,” Jim chastises.

  “What?” she protests. “He asked.”

  I laugh and turn to Jim. “It's great to finally meet you.”

  “Likewise. I've heard great things about you from my daughter, and trust me, that's rare. She normally hates everyone and everything.” He gives my shoulder a nudge. “But you? She doesn't stop talking about you.”

  “Dad!”

  Cally turns a bright shade of red, and I laugh. I'm getting a sense of satisfaction from hearing what an impact I’ve had on her.

  “I told you if you're going to embarrass me I’d rather you go back to the States,” she mutters.

  I laugh again. And there's the Cally I remember.

  “So, your first major tournament as a professional. I thought we’d just chat today and do a few hits, and then maybe do some light training tomorrow and just soak up the atmosphere. How does that sound?”

  “Okay, I guess.” She somehow manages to raise her eyebrows and roll her eyes simultaneously.

  “Did you have something else in mind?”

  “I want to win,” she says, matter-of-factly.

  I chuckle. “Everyone wants to win, honey. But you need to be realistic. You need to treat this as a learning experience. You're not going to win Wimbledon.”

  “Gee, thanks for your vote of confidence,” she mutters sourly.

  “Cally, I’m not telling you not to dream.” I laugh. “I just don't want you going into this with high hopes. Learn what you can. And the other players—learn from them. Do you think I just went in and won a major championship from the get-go? No. It took a lot of work, and a lot of patience.”

  “I think that’s bullshit,” she challenges. “You think I haven't done my homework on you? Your first pro tournament was the US Open, and you made it through to the quarter finals.”

  “But I didn't win. And I learned a lot,” I retort. “In fact, I lost the quarter final match six-love, six-one, six-one. But do you know what I took from that? I won two games against the number one player in the world.”

  She’s still pouting, but I can see that my words are beginning to sink in.

  “Okay,” she sighs dramatically. “I'll do it your way.”

  I laugh, loving the way she makes everything sound like she’s doing you a huge favour. Jim flashes me a smile and raises his eyebrows, and I know what he's saying. She listens to me. God knows why, but she does.

  “Good. Let's go and have some lunch, and then I have a surprise for you.”

  After a quick lunch at one of my favourite pubs, we pile into my car en route to the surprise I have planned for her. I thought back to when I first started my professional career, to what I found most daunting. It was stepping onto that court. It's hard to get your head around thousands of people sitting there, watching you. Every shot, every mistake is magnified by a thousand. It’s handling the pressure that will make or break you as a player.

  I pull into the car park of Wimbledon Stadium. Next to me, Cally gasps, as though she's just realized what we're doing here.

  “Are you serious?” she squeals.

  I nod. “Half an hour on centre court, you versus me. Get all of your freaking out done today, so by Tuesday you're ready to just give it your all.”

  “Oh my God, I can't believe this.” Her eyes widen and she laughs. She turns around and squeals at Jim. “Dad, it’s freaking Wimbledon.”

  He laughs, and I can see that he's happy his daughter is happy. “How did you wrangle this?” he murmurs, impressed.

  “I’m the best player Britain has ever seen.” I shrug. “I get everything I want.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Scarlett

  I listen as the doctor explains to me that Jake will need to be in the hospital for the first week of the trial. After that, depending on how he is responding, he may be a candidate to receive the rest of the treatment at Ryder’s house.

 

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