CLAIMED BY THE BILLIONAIRE'S HEIR

queeze her hand. "Our friendship. I ha

King isn't wh

in

ask, the la

ice," Kelly

quick hug. "S

. Angel m

es

my workout clothes, alone as always, so no

e's been following me for a year, though I'd never looked at his profile before. He has thousands of followers

k-and-white pictures: a shadowy outline of himself, a soccer ball

oo

rg

player, no

ic

ite queen. The caption just says, "Sick." His followers all w

calls out. I put my phone aw

r the soccer field, where Liam's team p

s in the blue jersey, moving with his usual focus. I ha

Maxwell tackles him hard, knocking him down. The crowd gasps. I do

iam. Then I realize Liam's looking at me. Hi

k is different. It's raw and angry.

ng water breaks, but every time I glance at the

ce, Coach ca

s. "You slowed down today. Have

better," I sa

eart conditio

aware of it, so she alwa

t on the team. Runn

just the change i

. We spend twenty minutes talking about different strateg

om, I let out a relieved breath, take o

r run over me, pretending it'

a towel around my

rby. I assume it's

e corner-a