Reckless a black diamond.., p.1
Reckless: A Black Diamond Novel, page 1
RECKLESS
A BLACK DIAMOND NOVEL
UNLUCKY 13
BECCA STEELE
Reckless
Copyright © 2023 by Becca Steele
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Editing by One Love Editing
Cover design by Rebel Ink Co
Photography by Ren Saliba
Becca Steele
www.authorbeccasteele.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s crazy imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
CONTENTS
Keep In Touch With Becca Steele
Welcome to Black Diamond
Playlist
Author’s note
Prologue
Part I
1. Theo
2. Jordan
3. Theo
4. Jordan
5. Theo
6. Jordan
7. Theo
8. Jordan
9. Theo
10. Jordan
Part II
11. Jordan
12. Jordan
13. Theo
14. Jordan
15. Theo
16. Jordan
17. Theo
18. Jordan
19. Theo
20. Jordan
21. Theo
22. Jordan
23. Theo
24. Theo
25. Jordan
26. Jordan
27. Theo
Part III
28. Jordan
29. Theo
30. Jordan
31. Theo
32. Jordan
33. Jordan
34. Theo
35. Jordan
36. Theo
37. Jordan
38. Theo
39. Theo
40. Jordan
41. Jordan
42. Jordan
Epilogue
Thank You
A note from the author
Need More?
Acknowledgments
Also by Becca Steele
About the Author
ABOUT RECKLESS
Welcome to Black Diamond Resort and Spa…
An ultimatum from my football team manager landed me here on this far-flung tropical island, where I’m expected to work on my issues in a rehab centre for the elite.
But I’m not the only one here to curb their reckless behaviour. My teammate, Theo Lewin, has been banished to the island with me. Now we’re supposed to learn how to work together, otherwise we risk being transferred to another team.
There’s one small problem. We’ve hated each other since the day we met.
Forced to confront our issues with nowhere to escape, we’re expected to not only spend our days together, but our nights, too. This can only end one way. In disaster.
Except… I’m starting to see Theo in a different light. He’s not the aloof, pretentious person I thought he was. And from the way things are heating up between us, he might see me as something more than just the cocky, shallow thorn in his side.
There’s a saying… what happens on the island, stays on the island.
Before we go back to reality, we’re going to be reckless one last time.
KEEP IN TOUCH WITH BECCA STEELE
WELCOME TO BLACK DIAMOND
PLAYLIST
COFFIN - PLVTINUM
PARANOID - Chase Atlantic
Sideways - Theory of a Deadman
Rain - Sleep Token
Only One - The Score
Feel Something - Jaymes Young
Doom Days - Bastille
Teardrops - NOVUM
Sleepless - Dutch Melrose
The Beach - The Neighbourhood
Die A Little - YUNGBLUD
Hold On - Acres
Say That You Will - Sleep Token
Dream - Imagine Dragons
Pieces - Rob Thomas
If Our Love Is Wrong - Calum Scott
Ocean - Martin Garrix, Khalid
Angel Baby - Troye Sivan
Find the playlist on Spotify or YouTube
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The author is British, and this story contains British English spellings and phrases. The football referred to in this story is known as soccer in some countries.
Please note that this book may contain triggers for some readers. Please view the content warnings page below for details:
https://authorbeccasteele.com/trigger-warnings/
For those who love the beautiful game
The more difficult the victory, the greater the happiness in winning.
PELÉ
PROLOGUE
JORDAN
How was this my life? On a plane to fuck-knows-where, with the one person I really, truly hated, forced to spend the next however long cooped up with the miserable bastard?
What had I done to deserve this?
Okay. There were one or two…or three or four events that had led up to this drastic “intervention,” as my agent called it. As if giving it a name would make it any better.
I guess I should rewind time a bit to work out just how I’d managed to arrive at this point…
The first time I met Theodore Lewin, aka Theo, aka fuckface twatwank, we were both thirteen years old, on the first day of youth academy training. For prospective footballers, getting into a youth academy was a chance to break into the pros. For the academy we both joined, Cotswold Elite Football Youth Academy, aka CEFYA, we got to be mentored by professionals as we grew up, and scouts regularly visited us. And for those lucky few exceptionally talented members, they might get a shot at a place on the youth team of a Premier League club.
Theodore, or Theo, as most people called him, was an arrogant, haughty little shit. My first memory of him was him swaggering onto the training pitch where I was doing drills with cones, wearing a perfectly pressed football kit and the Adidas boots that I’d been coveting for almost a year but couldn’t afford. He looked around him with a sneer on his full lips and his nose in the air. His light blue eyes scanned over me as he ran his hand through his sleek black hair, and for some reason, I lost my concentration and tripped over the cone I was about to run around.
The stupid stuck-up brat laughed, pointing in my direction, his voice easily carrying to where I lay, sprawled on the grass.
“Mother said this was the number one academy, but honestly, if they let clowns like that in, I’m not sure I want to waste my time here.”
I glared at him. Rude, posh bastard.
Leaping to my feet, I placed my hands on my hips, staring him down. “Got lost on the way to the opera, did ya? Or was it afternoon tea?”
His lip curled into a sneer again. “It may surprise you, Trip, but there are those of us with breeding that do have the ability to kick an inflated pig’s bladder around a field with some measure of skill.”
My mouth dropped open, totally against my will. What thirteen-year-old kid talked like this? No one else I knew, that was for sure.
Wait a minute. “Trip?”
“Well, I did see your rather spectacular fall just now. Seemed fitting.”
“Don’t ever call me that again,” I growled, stepping right up to him and shoving my chest against his, full of the reckless bravado of a teenage boy.
Before he could respond, a whistle blew, and we were being pulled apart by one of the members of staff.
That day was just the beginning.
The months, and then the years, went by, and as we honed our skills, it became apparent that we were both suited to the same position of right-winger. Which meant that when we played other academies and youth teams, we were in constant competition with each other. And Lewin was good. Really fucking good. He was the arrogant thorn in my side, always there, ready to take my place on the right wing. Maybe he thought the same about me—we were pretty evenly matched—but if he did, he didn’t show it. He just liked to taunt me in private and keep his untouchable, icy persona in public.
I’d never hated anyone until I met him. But from the age of thirteen, we were enemies. It was an indisputable fact. The sun rose in the east. The moon orbited the earth. Jordan Emery and Theodore Lewin hated each other.
When we both went pro, I had another reason to resent him. When he was seventeen, he managed to land a coveted spot on Glevum FC’s youth team, and from there, he was offered a place on the main pro team. Glevum FC had always been my preferred choice. Not only were they in the Premier League, arguably one of the best and most elite football leagues in the world, if not the best, but they were also my local team growing up in my home county of Gloucestershire. I’d spent many happy Saturday afternoons in the stands with my dad, draped in the team’s scarf in red and gold, cheering on the players alongside the other Glevum Gladiators—the nickname for Glevum FC’s fans due to our local Roman history and the Roman helmet on the club’s badge. I’d always dreamed of playing there, and I knew I was good enough. But for whatever reason, they bypassed me in favour of Lewin. The contract I ended up being offered was for another local club, Forest Green Rovers, but while I w
Forest Green Rovers were amazing. I couldn’t fault them. The staff, the team, the ethics of the club…they ticked so many of my boxes. I threw myself into the game, concentrating on honing my skills, and did my best to ignore the ball of resentment in my stomach that seemed to grow bigger every time Theodore Lewin was mentioned. The ball that grew bigger every time the pundits spoke of Glevum’s league chances for the season and how Lewin could play a major part in the club’s success.
I did my best, but my best wasn’t good enough.
My resentment grew.
Then, something happened to change the trajectory of my career, and while it should have been a dream come true for me, it ended up as a nightmare.
One pivotal moment in my career led to a chain of events that put me on the plane to tropical hell with my rival…
PART 1
1
THEO
“Thanks for coming in today on such short notice.” Glevum FC’s manager, aka the gaffer, aka Harvey Raines, steepled his fingers as he stared at me impassively from across the table. The overhead lights gleamed on his bald head, giving it a shine as if he’d polished it. He gave a slight nod to the left, and I swallowed, lowering myself into the indicated chair, and surreptitiously wiped my sweating palms on my perfectly pressed trousers. Next to me, Amir, my agent, sighed. He couldn’t even tell me what today’s emergency meeting was about.
Couldn’t…or wouldn’t. I shot him a suspicious look out of the corner of my eye, and he just sighed again, taking his own seat and busying himself with opening up his iPad, the keyboard lighting up as he input his password.
Returning my attention to Harvey, I folded my hands neatly in my lap and waited.
I didn’t have to wait long.
“As you know, Knowles sustained a hamstring injury against Liverpool last Saturday. Unfortunately, it’s worse than we anticipated. He’s going to be out for the rest of the season.”
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath before inwardly cursing myself. Years of being around football players meant that some of their bad habits had rubbed off on me. Still, I supposed swearing was one of the more harmless vices I’d adopted. I doubted my parents would agree, but then again…they’d have to take an interest in me in the first place to be in a position to agree or disagree. That was highly unlikely to happen, based on their track record ever since I’d diverted from their chosen path to become a professional footballer. It had been harmless when it was only a “hobby,” but to choose it as a career? It was unheard of in their circles. Not to mention the fact that I had chosen to play instead of attending a prestigious university. But in the world of professional football, most started young. While there were a select few who had been able to complete a degree alongside the rigorous training schedule that made up our day-to-day lives, for those in the English Premier League, they were few and far between.
“Indeed. Here’s where I find myself in a bind.” Harvey leaned forwards, planting his hands on the table. “I have the chance to sign another player in the January transfer window. His club doesn’t seem to realise what a talent they have on their hands, so it looks like we’ll be able to get him for a steal.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” I glanced over at Amir again, but he was tapping away on his iPad, studiously ignoring me, frowning at the screen through his chunky, black-framed glasses, with his mouth pulled into a thin line. I wasn’t going to get any help from my agent, that was for sure.
“It’s good…but it has repercussions for you.”
Wonderful.
“We’ll need to move you from the right-wing position to the left wing. He’s almost hopeless on the left. I’ve watched hours of footage and studied him in person, and it’s the only conclusion I can come to. By moving you to the left, Glevum FC have a good shot at finishing in the top ten of the table this season, maybe even higher. If we could actually get a shot at Europe…it would be unprecedented for the club. To achieve that as the manager…” Trailing off, Harvey shook his head with a small huff of laughter. “I’d be fulfilling a lifelong dream.”
“I don’t play on the left.” My words came out steady, but my hands were trembling beneath the table. There was a reason I was building up a reputation as a solid, dependable, talented right-winger. Because I was fucking good at it. And not only that, but I loved it.
Harvey exhaled heavily. “I know you don’t, but you and I both know you can. You’ve done it before when Knowles has been injured. You’re good, Lewin. Very good. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t believe you were capable.”
I was actually going to have to do this, wasn’t I? It wasn’t as if I had any other choice.
Harvey was still speaking. “I’ve arranged for some additional training sessions to get you used to playing on the left. Once the transfer is complete, we’ll get you doing drills with Emery. He’s going to be thrown in at the deep end, coming to a Premier League team from League Two, and he won’t have much time to get used to the team before we need him out there on the pitch.”
Emery. Emery? No. No, no, no.
“Jordan Emery?” His name was ground out between gritted teeth, and my hands were no longer shaking with nerves but with rage.
Harvey smiled, the gold cap on his left incisor flashing at me. “That’s him. You were at CEFYA together, weren’t you? He doesn’t know anyone else on the team, as far as I’m aware, so I’m expecting you to be the one to show him the ropes.”
What was this hellhole my life had suddenly descended into?
Jordan fucking Emery. That brown-haired, grey-eyed, golden-skinned bane of my existence ever since we were thirteen years old was going to be my teammate? And even worse, to take my fucking place on the team? That was a hard-won position. A place that had cost me blood, sweat, and tears.
He thought he could usurp my position as Glevum FC’s right-winger?
Absolutely not.
2
JORDAN
“I’ve perused the offer and contracts, and I’ve had my guy check the paperwork over, as well as Glevum FC’s lawyers. Everything looks good, as far as we’re concerned. Are you ready to sign? The club won’t hold off forever.” Rory, my agent, rubbed his hand over his dark, neatly trimmed beard as he eyed me from across his desk. Picking up an expensive-looking silver fountain pen, he tapped the stack of papers in front of him.
“I want to. It’s just—”
“Jordan. I’m going to give you some tough love here because you need it.” Placing the pen down, he planted his hands on the wooden surface on either side of the paperwork, his dark gaze intent on mine. “Playing in the Premier League is your dream, and you should never lose sight of that. Signing for a top-flight team is something you and I have been working towards since you turned sixteen. You’re nineteen now, not too far off from turning twenty, and I’m telling you that it’s highly unlikely you’ll get another chance like this. Are you man enough to put your petty, childish differences with one person aside and act like the team player I know you are?”
