Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 122

Chapter 122

Aiden

Every year, it was the same exhausting routine. I swear, these events felt like torture. Each season brought the identical circus, just with balloons in different colors. Old money flaunting polished shoes, wives with tight, bored expressions, all pretending this dinner was about football when really it was about their egos and tax breaks.

If it weren’t for my boy, I might’ve knocked back a couple of shots just to survive this charade. But there he was—Christ—standing in line like some misplaced movie star. His new suit hugged him perfectly, those wild curls actually tamed, and his skin practically glowing under the harsh event lighting. A prince. My prince. And honestly? I could endure this freak show all night for him. Hell, I’d put up with worse.

Our eyes met across the line, just a quick flick—barely enough time for anyone else to notice. He searched for me, I returned the gesture, and right then, I knew I could handle this. Put on the showman’s mask, parade my boy for these donors, make him shine so brightly they’d be tripping over themselves to write checks. He’d thank me later. Literally. I could already feel those lips around me again, properly showing their gratitude. A smirk tugged at my lips at the thought, and I swear, he caught it. My boy flushed hard and quickly looked away.

And yeah, that hurt. The looking-away always stung. But I was the one who told him earlier to keep his distance tonight. To stay a mile apart from me all evening. I knew myself well, and I knew him even better. For all his faults, Noah was terrible at lying.

“Line up,” I barked, arranging them according to the program. Shoulders squared, ties straightened. Miguel muttered something under his breath until I shot him a look that shut him up immediately. Noah stood right in the center, exactly where I told him to be—front and center, the scholarship kid, the supposed charity case, the one these vultures wanted to inspect like livestock at auction.

That morning, I’d warned him—while bending him over the kitchen counter and fucking him—that tonight he’d be paraded like a prize pig. Every donor’s eyes would be on him, measuring, judging, deciding if he was worth their investment. I swore to myself I’d make sure he was. If it was the last thing I did, they’d see exactly what I saw—well, not all of it… I almost chuckled at my own thought.

The music softened. I gave the signal. One by one, the boys stepped forward, applause building steadily. Then I followed behind them, and the crowd erupted into a roar that vibrated deep in my chest.

Of course. To them, I wasn’t Aiden Mercer, the asshole coach who never smiled. I was the football legend descended from the heavens to rescue their pathetic team and its disastrous past.

I raised my hand, Roman gladiator style, and the room fell silent. That moment was always a thrill—here and at the club. Half of them hated me personally, but every one of them worshipped me as a player.

“Evening,” I said, just enough charm to smooth the edges. I gave them my name, as if they didn’t already know it by heart, and then I began introducing the boys. Not just tossing out their names like scraps, but highlighting exactly what made each of them valuable—their strengths, their grit, the unique fire they brought to the field. My team. My work. Each player polished in words the way I’d drilled them to polish themselves on the turf.

Until I reached my baby boy. Then my chest tightened because, damn, was I proud.

Because I saw her.

Lexie Hart—our star cheerleader, polished, pretty, and as dangerous as poison ivy—sat about ten feet away. Daughter of William Hart, one of our biggest investors. She was watching him. Watching Noah with the same amused expression I’d just had, but on her, it twisted my stomach. Her smile lingered on his every move, and something inside me snapped.

She was already on my blacklist, logically. But now, with her eyes locked on my boy and the Hart family name backing her every whim, my blood boiled. I could feel it in my clenched jaw, my fists tightening, the dark whirl of thoughts racing through my mind—every possible way to keep her away from him. Evil glares, making her life hell until she begged to quit, expulsion from the squad, hell—even murder danced through my head with a frightening ease.

Then Noah stood up, heading toward the restrooms, and like a shadow, Lexie followed a few steps behind, doing exactly what I’d been hoping to do.

Damn it.

And just like that, a crystal-clear thought slipped in—maybe that third option wasn’t such a bad idea after all.