The knockout playing to.., p.1
The Knockout (Playing To Win Book 3), page 1
THE KNOCKOUT
A KROYDON HILLS LEGACY NOVEL
PLAYING TO WIN
BOOK THREE
BELLA MATTHEWS
CONTENTS
Sensitive Content
Cast Of Characters
1. Grace
2. Grace
3. Ares
4. Grace
5. Grace
6. Grace
#KroydonKronicles
7. Ares
8. Ares
9. Grace
10. Grace
11. Ares
#KroydonKronicles
12. Grace
13. Grace
#KroydonKronicles
14. Ares
15. Grace
16. Grace
#KroydonKronicles
17. Ares
18. Grace
19. Grace
20. Grace
21. Ares
22. Grace
23. Ares
24. Grace
25. Grace
26. Grace
27. Grace
28. Grace
29. Grace
Epilogue
What Comes Next?
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Bella Matthews
Copyright © 2024
Bella Matthews
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in the critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
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This is a work of fiction, created without use of AI technology. Resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This book contains mature themes and is only suitable for 18+ readers.
Editor: Dena Mastrogiovanni, Red Pen Editing
Cover Designer: Sarah Sentz, Enchanting Romance Designs
Photographer: Michelle Lancaster
Model: Eric Taylor Guilmette
Interior Formatting: Brianna Cooper
SENSITIVE CONTENT
This book contains sensitive content that could be triggering.
Please see my website for a full list.
WWW.AUTHORBELLAMATTHEWS.COM
To everyone who needs to hear this, you are the storm.
"Fate whispers to the warrior, 'You cannot withstand the storm.'
The warrior whispers back, 'I am the storm,’”
— UNKNOWN
CAST OF CHARACTERS
The Kings Of Kroydon Hills Family
• Declan & Annabelle Sinclair
◦ Everly Sinclair - 24
◦ Grace Sinclair - 24
◦ Nixon Sinclair - 23
◦ Leo Sinclair - 22
◦ Hendrix Sinclair - 19
• Brady & Nattie Ryan
◦ Noah Ryan - 21
◦ Lilah Ryan - 21
◦ Dillan Ryan - 18
◦ Asher Ryan - 12
• Aiden & Sabrina Murphy
◦ Jameson Murphy -21
◦ Finn Murphy - 18
• Bash & Lenny Beneventi
◦ Maverick Beneventi - 21
◦ Ryker Beneventi - 19
• Cooper & Carys Sinclair
◦ Lincoln Sinclair - 14
◦ Lochlan Sinclair - 14
◦ Lexie Sinclair - 14
• Coach Joe & Catherine Sinclair
◦ Callen Sinclair - 24
The Kingston Family
• Ashlyn & Brandon Dixon
◦ Madeline Kingston - 25
◦ Raven Dixon - 9
• Max & Daphne Kingston
◦ Serena Kingston - 18
• Scarlet & Cade St. James
◦ Brynlee St. James - 24
◦ Killian St. James - 22
◦ Olivia St. James - 20
• Becket & Juliette Kingston
◦ Easton Hayes - 29
◦ Kenzie Hayes - 23
◦ Blaise Kingston - 13
• Sawyer & Wren Kingston
◦ Knox Kingston - 17
◦ Crew Kingston - 14
• Hudson & Maddie Kingston
◦ Teagan Kingston - 18
◦ Aurora Kingston - 15
◦ Brooklyn Kingston - 10
• Amelia & Sam Beneventi
◦ Maddox Beneventi - 23
◦ Caitlin Beneventi - 20
◦ Roman Beneventi - 18
◦ Lucky Beneventi - 16
• Lenny & Bash Beneventi
◦ Maverick Beneventi - 21
◦ Ryker Beneventi - 19
• Jace & India Kingston
◦ Cohen Kingston - 17
◦ Saylor Kingston - 12
◦ Atlas Kingston - 9
◦ Asher Kingston - 9
For family trees, please visit my website
www.authorbellamatthews.com
GRACE
“You know, it’s not nice to be prettier than the bride.”
I spin around and yelp, as my Christian Louboutin slips in the icy snow beneath my feet.
Oh, come on . . .
That’s not my only thought as the ice-cold, snow-covered ground comes flying up toward my face—just my first—before two giant arms catch me, stopping my fall. “I’ve got you, tiny dancer.”
That voice . . .
“What the heck, Ares?” My fingers dig into my newly minted brother-in-law’s brother’s bigass biceps as I cling to him for support while I get my bearings. “You scared the shit out of me. Give a girl a warning next time.”
I take a step back, slightly more careful this time, and a shiver skirts down my spine.
Not sure if this one is from the cold or the man.
“Damn, good twin. What crawled up your tutu?” Ares shrugs out of his dark tux jacket and drapes it over my bare shoulders, even though I just cursed him out, solidifying that, in fact, it was the man who caused the shiver.
Damn man.
“Nothing,” I lie and slide my arms into the jacket, enjoying the cool, crisp cedar and sandalwood scent that envelops me. Good lord, this man always smells good. “I’m fine. We should go back inside.” Leave it to my twin sister to get married during the biggest snowstorm Kroydon Hills has seen in over twenty years. The wedding was already supposed to be small, but the storm cut the original guest list in half, leaving only our closest friends and any family who already live within the city limits. And apparently, each of them is nosier than the last.
“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to stand out in a snowstorm in that dress, not that I’m complaining.” He crosses the lapels of his jacket across my chest and runs his hands up and down my arms. “You might have everyone in there fooled, but I’m not as blind as the rest of them. Your smile’s been sad today.”
“You’ve known me for like two months, god of war . . . you don’t know my smile.” There goes that damn chill again. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But when I raise my eyes to meet his stormy blue ones, my carefully constructed wall weakens, and that first crack stings like a bitch.
Ares sees it too. His ever-present cocky grin kicks up just a little higher on the right side than the left. I’m not sure I’ve ever met a man who smiles as much as he does.
“You’re infuriating, you know that? You get off acting like an ass, but there’s secretly a decent guy under that swagger, isn’t there?”
“I’ve been called worse.” He slings an arm around my shoulders and guides me to the glass doors leading back into the dimly lit hotel ballroom. “Come on. Let’s get you inside and get a drink in you to warm you up. Then you can spill all your dirty little secrets.”
“Who says I have dirty secrets?” I counter, knowing full well he’d run fast and far if he only knew. They all would.
The French doors click shut behind us as the strains of a Lumineers song plays through the sound system. “We all have dirty secrets, Grace. Some are just more fun to figure out than others.”
Ares. The god of war. Tall, broad, insanely muscular, and devastatingly dark and handsome. All too perfect for this Greek god.
A moment later, he turns that smile on me and hands me a fancy glass full of Everly and Cross’s signature wedding cocktail. I look at it skeptically while Ares taps a bottle of beer against the glass. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
I take a sip, leaving my eyes on his, then choke back a cough and hiss as the liquor burns my throat. “Oh my God. This is awful.”
“Yeah. Pretty sure the bartender is the owner’s kid or something. I heard a rumor the actual bartender couldn’t make it in because of the snow.” He grins and lifts his bottle. “That’s why I’m sticking to beer.”
I take another sip, then set the glass down
If I finish that glass, I may not have the option.
I opt for plan B and snatch Ares’s beer from his hand, run my finger over the lip, and take a sip.
“I got offered a job this morning,” I answer quietly, unable to believe I said the words out loud.
Completely unfazed, he picks up my glass and throws back half of it in one gulp. “Yeah. That’s fucking awful.” Then he swallows the rest. “But congrats on the job. Isn’t that good news?” Then, as if he’s working through what he just said, his eyes scrunch up at the corners. “Wait . . . I thought you already had a job.”
“I was offered a better one today.” I turn and find us an unoccupied table—easy to do in a room that’s supposed to seat two hundred and fifty but has less than fifty people in it. I can feel him behind me before I sit down. Something about this man is magnetic, not that I’ll ever admit that to him.
“So what’s the problem if it’s a better job? Are the tutus ugly or something?” He laughs, and the sound is deep and dark and makes me think forbidden thoughts.
And like the good girl I’m expected to be, I ignore how much I like it and shake my head.
“It’s in London . . .” I blurt out and clamp my lips closed to shut myself up. My stomach turns as anxiety tightens its hold on me. “Oh, God. I haven’t told anyone that. You can’t say anything. Not to anyone, Ares. I can’t let Everly find out today.”
“Damn, Grace. London . . . Wow.” Shadows from the candlelit table dance across his strong jaw, and a flash of something crosses his face. For a minute, I think it’s disappointment. But as he leans back in his chair and crosses his massive arms over his muscled chest, I realize it’s something else. Something . . . more.
Some men look like giants in their hockey pads but are mere mortals when they take them off. Not Ares though. No . . . this god looks just as big off the ice as he does on it.
And damn, it looks good on him.
Dark hair, always a few days past needing to be cut, dark blue eyes full of mischief, a jaw chiseled from stone, and don’t even get me started on the muscles . . . His muscles have muscles. I’ve been around incredibly fit men for years. Dancers and athletes. These muscles are different. Capable of doing harm. Honed from years on the ice. These aren’t gym muscles there for the sole purpose of looking pretty.
Then there are the hints I’ve gotten of his tattoos. The kind that make a good girl stupid . . . The kind a girl wants to trace with her tongue . . . The kind that are the perfect cherry on top of the delicious display of arm porn he’s giving me right now.
What is it about a man in a white dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, and a chunky brown leather watch wrapped around his wrist that makes me, the good twin, think bad, bad, thoughts?
One day, I’ll see this man shirtless. It’ll be at a family barbecue or a beach vacation. Somewhere already hot. And Ares will jump in the lake or the ocean or my parents’ damn pool, then all the ice in Kroydon Hills won’t be enough to cool me down. The filthy little fantasies I’ve been having about him for months will be put to shame once I see the real thing. Because there’s no way my overactive imagination could possibly do him justice.
“When do you leave?” His voice is unexpectedly strained, and now I want to know why.
“Like I said, I haven’t told Everly yet. Today’s her day. I don’t want to spoil anything . . .”
A storm grows in Ares’s dark eyes as they rake over my skin, leaving tiny goosebumps everywhere they touch. “So you tell her tomorrow,” he adds slowly.
“It’s my dream job,” I force out, as much for him to hear as it is a reminder for myself. “I’ll be a principal dancer in the Royal Ballet . . . But I have to leave in three days.”
“If it’s your dream, they’ll be happy for you. You’ve got a great family, Grace.”
It’s not that I don’t know that or that I doubt it.
My family is amazing and supportive.
It’s me.
The idea of moving across the world scares me.
It would be the first time I’m alone indefinitely, and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to survive that.
“Three days, huh . . . ?”
I watch my little cousins run by, but Ares reaches over and tugs on a lock of my hair, demanding my attention.
“How am I supposed to shoot my shot if you’re on another continent?”
I catch my lip between my teeth and stare across the table before I laugh. This man always finds a way to lighten the mood. “You’re not usually the one taking the shots on the ice, unless it’s with your fists, god of war.”
“I don’t see any ice, Grace,” he growls low and sexy, and my God . . . the tiny scrap of satin and lace passing for my panties just got soaked.
I take a small sip of his beer and lick my lips. “There’s no shot to shoot. My sister married your brother. We’re off-limits.”
“The fuck we are, ballerina.” He raises a brow, challenging me, and grins. Shame he’ll never know how that grin affects me.
“Gracie . . .” My youngest brother, Hendrix, stops next to us and extends a drunken hand to me. “Let’s show these assholes how to dance.”
“Better not let Mom see you like this, Henny.”
“Lighten up, good twin, and come dance with me,” he demands.
The crazy playlist, which was thrown together earlier when the band bailed because of the snow, switches to an old family-favorite Journey song. I look across the table at Ares, who’s gaze hasn’t left mine, and smile before placing my hand in Henny’s and slipping out of Ares’s tux jacket.
“This conversation isn’t over, Grace.”
“This conversation never started, Ares.”
Ares
“Don’t go there, man.” Maddox Beneventi drops down in the chair across from mine and passes me another beer.
“Go where?” I ask, accepting the bottle but blowing off Beneventi.
“You’re staring at the most protected woman in this room, Wilder. And that was before your brother married her sister.”
I glance his way from the corner of my eye, not wanting to look away from how Grace laughs as she lets her little brother spin her around the dance floor. “I figured the most protected woman in the room would be your sister, Beneventi.”
“Point taken.” He nods and sips his beer, making it obvious he’s watching the same woman I am. “But that woman . . .”—he nods toward Grace—“the one who can light up Main Street with her smile . . . that one doesn’t have claws. You screw with my sister, and Caitlin will fuck your shit up all by herself long before my brothers, my dad, or I have you dead and buried. You hurt good twin, and God himself couldn’t save you.”
When the song switches to a catchy Lizzo tune, the girls all scream and run to the center of the dance floor. That group could suck the air out of any room they walk in. Each of them, including my own sister, is gorgeous. And together, they’re something to see. But Grace . . . Grace is a fucking knockout. A seductive angel in a soft, pale-purple dress that shows off her delicate curves with long, soft ribbons tied at her neck and hanging loose down her back, tempting a man to tug. It dips down low in the front, clinging to her chest, and cinches in at the waist before it floats out around her hips and legs. And that hair . . . Damn, I love her hair. It’s long and brown and falling out of the perfect up-do it was in earlier.
I thought everyone was going to shit when she dyed it last month, but it’s absolute perfection on her. And man, does it make her aqua eyes sparkle.
She’s gorgeous and sweet as hell.
The perfect one-two punch.
And she’s leaving in three damn days.
My smile kicks up at the corners when I realize she told me about her job but not Beneventi. Fucker loves to know everything that’s going on with his people.
I turn to face him and take another pull of my beer. “You got a thing for Grace, Maddox?”
“Nah . . . Told your brother the same thing about Everly. I look at those girls the same way I look at Caitlin. They’re family. Just remember, nobody fucks with my family, and we’re good, Wilder.” He holds my stare, making sure I’m picking up what he’s putting down.
“I hear you, man.”
