A Gorgeous Villain (St. Mary’s Rebels #2) - Saffron A. Kent Page 0,3

ballerina. Have been since I was five.

Reed Roman Jackson has the kind of footwork that would make any ballerina fall in love with him.

It would make any ballerina go down on her knees and weep at his feet.

Not me though.

I can’t.

What kind of a sister would I be if I did?

Therefore, I can’t widen my eyes at the rapid swipes and the swings of his legs as he zigzags through the closing-in crowd, still somehow keeping possession of the ball. I can’t wring my hands in my lap when he nearly crashes into a guy from the opposite team. I can’t lose my breath when he almost loses the ball but at the last minute, with a fake pass to throw them off his scent, he saves it.

And neither can I hop up from my seat and clap and scream when he finally, finally, sends the ball flying with such force that it feels like it’s slicing the air itself in two before hitting the net and scoring the goal. The first goal of the game.

I can’t do any of that.

I can’t.

But I can’t deny the rush in my chest or the puff of relieved air that escapes through my parted lips.

I can’t deny that my veins feel full and bursting.

They feel full of music, of the notes of a violin, and my feet are restless. So restless to just… dance.

“That’s my brother.”

Tempest’s voice pierces through and I jerk my eyes away from Reed, who’s getting thumped on the back by the Mustang camp of the team while the Thorn camp is simply going about their business of getting back into their positions, including number twenty-three, Ledger.

“Um, sorry. Who’s your brother again?” I ask because I completely missed who she was pointing at.

She throws me a sly smile. “The one you’ve been watching.”

“What?”

She bumps her shoulder with mine. “The one who scored the goal just now and you got so excited that I thought your eyes would pop out of your head.”

“I didn’t.”

Did I?

She laughs. “You so totally did. Even I don’t get as excited as you did.”

My heart is a drumbeat in my chest. “I –”

“It’s fine. I won’t tell.” She mimics a zipping motion on her lips before pointing to the back of her jersey. “But anyway, Jackson. I’m Tempest Jackson. Reed’s my brother.”

She’s Reed’s sister.

Sister.

“That’s why you look familiar,” I breathe out before I get a hold of myself. “I’m sorry. I just thought you looked familiar.”

She wiggles her eyebrows. “You also thought I was his girlfriend, didn’t you?”

“What? No.” I shake my head, squirming in my seat. “I… It’s none of my business.”

“It’s okay. He has a lot of girlfriends. Oops. Not girlfriends. Girls. My brother doesn’t do girlfriends.”

“Oh yeah, I know.”

Tempest stares at me for a few seconds. It’s not long but it’s enough to make me slightly uncomfortable and self-conscious. “But that doesn’t mean that he won’t ever have a girlfriend. You know, when the right girl comes along. He’s just being an idiot right now.”

“O-kay.” I nod. “That’s good to know.”

“Is it?”

“What?”

Tempest completely turns to me then. “I like you. I think you’re cool. And I think…” She lowers her voice. “You have a major crush on my brother. And –”

“Oh my God. Stop.”

I look around to make sure no one’s listening in on our conversation.

Although the stadium is so loud and people are so engrossed in the game, I highly doubt anyone could eavesdrop even if they wanted to.

But still.

I can’t take any chances. If someone so much as got a whiff of the fact that I was talking about him, that Ledger and Conrad’s sister was talking about having a crush on the enemy, I don’t even know what would happen.

Ledger would definitely kill Reed. Definitely.

And then he’d lock me up somewhere for who knows how long for betraying him, and I wouldn’t even blame him.

Because it is a betrayal, isn’t it?

“What?” Tempest asks confused.

“Don’t even talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t. And because I can’t.”

“You can’t what?”

I look around again. I even go so far as to lean in toward her and lower my voice. “I can’t like your brother.”

She leans in as well. “What? Why can’t you?”

“Because I can’t.”

“Yeah, you said that. But what does that mean?”

“It means that I can’t. I’m not…” I look for a suitable word. “Allowed.”

“You’re not allowed?”

“Nope.”

“Well, who is it that’s not allowing you?”

I stare at her a beat before saying, “Look, you don’t live here so you don’t know.”

“What don’t I know?”

“There’s bad