Desired by All and He Threw Away 9

Chapter 9 

Taylor POV 

The air feels thick between us. 

I open my mouth to thank Alden–for stepping in, for pulling Dyla off me, but the words freeze when I catch the look on his 

face. 

His mouth curves in something that is not a smile. It’s a sneer. 

“Looks like I missed quite the show,” he says, eyes flicking; from tylan to me and back again. “My employee here, spying for my opponent?” 

The accusation stings worse than Dylan’s grip had. 

My chest tightens as the echo of Aiden’s words digging deep. An employee spying. 

It’s not a question–it’s a judgment. 

Dylan blinks, confusion flashing across his face. “Wall, what? You’re working for him now?” His eyes dart between us, disbelief cracking through his arrogance. “Seriously?” 

Aiden doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. His silence confirms it. 

I keep my arms folded while my stomach churns with discomfort. 

Dylan’s jaw slackens for a beat before he snaps it shut, before he regains control to speak. 

“Look, Aiden” he says quickly, voice shifting to something smoother, as if he practiced what to say before coming here, “I came to see you. That’s it. I just wanted to clear things up. Please don’t take out your anger on me because of Ella. The media’s twisting everything.” 

The name of his ex–wife makes Aiden’s expression harden, his eyes turning colder than ice. He doesn’t give Dylan the dignity of a reply. Just a clipped, brutal, “Get lost.” 

Dylan’s face turns red as he fails to speak. Aiden’s firm expression makes Dylan shut his mouth before he can start an argument. He looks over at me and the old arrogant look on his face transforms into a smaller and more vicious expression before he walks 

away. 

The sound of his sneakers squeaking against the floor disappears to the distance as he walks down the corridor. Aiden doesn’t watch him leave. Instead, he turns that storm–gray gaze on me. 

“Come with me.” My legs move before my brain catches up, trailing him through the concrete tunnel that hums with echoes and distant cheers. 

My pulse keeps pace with his boots. He stops abruptly near a steel oor to the locker room and turns to face me. His face is shadowed, unreadable except for the hard line of his jaw. 

“Do you really expect me to believe you weren’t feeding him information just now, be careful this is my second warning to you, Taylor.” His voice is steady, but it’s the type that carries more weight than shouting. The accusation feels like a slap. 

“What?” My voice rises before I could stop it. “You think I would rk everything for that scrum? After what he just “I choke it back, anger clawing up my throat. “I didn’t do anything! Why should I pay for Dylan’s mistakes?” 

His expression doesn’t shift. Not even a flicker. His silence is worse than words. It’s like a verdict being handed down without a 

trial. 

Heat rushes through me, 

frustration is bubbling so hot I can barely breathe. 

Footsteps echo before I can fire again. A handful of his teammates push open the door and walk in, cracking jokes while their laughter bouncing through the hall. Their jerseys are half off, pads clutched under their arms, their swagger filling the space like they own every square inch. 

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Chapter 9 

+25 Bonus 

“Yo, Aiden,” one calls, then his gaze snags on me. His grin sharpes, curious. “Who’s this?” 

“I’m the new physiotherapist intern here,” I try to forget about my anger earlier and answer with a professional tone. 

Another teammate approaches me, “Luke” with his name imprinted on his jersey, broad shoulders and playful eyes, he steps closer with a smirk tugging at his mouth. “New girl huh? So,” he says, tone light but teasing, “which one of us do you have your eye on?” 

The others chuckle, nudging each other like schoolboys. My pulse umps, but I force myself to match his tone, cool and even.” Anyone,” I say, lifting my chin to look at Aiden. “As long as they’re not an arrogant jerk.” 

The laughter becomes more intense this time, bouncing off the walls. Luke laugh, patting another guy on the shoulder. “Damn, “he says, with a big smile on his face. “She’s bold.” 

His glance flicks to Aiden, as if daring him to react. Aiden doesn’t. 

I follow when he and his team head out of the locker room, their chatter rolling around me like static. 

Then the stadium swallows us whole. The roar of the crowd hits first, a thunderous wave that shakes the concrete under my feet. 

The air smells of sweat, beer and popcorn, the scent pressing in until it’s all I can smell. Lights blaze down so bright I begin to see white spots. I take my place at the edge of the bench, and rest my clipboard on my knees, watching as bodies crash and collide on the field. 

My job here is to monitor, to stay sharp, to watch for signs of strain or pain before they turn into something worse. But every eye in the place is fixed on one thing–Aiden and Dylan. 

The first few plays, Dylan’s quickness flashes. 

His smile beams on the jumbotron, confident, hungry. But slowly, play by play, it crumbles. Aiden doesn’t just match him–he 

dominates. 

Every move is deliberate, calculated, a predator circling prey. Dylan stumbles where Aiden steadies, hesitates where Aiden drives forward. The crowd feels it too. 

The chants swell, shifting, building momentum. The golden boy shine dims under stadium lights when faced with a man who has been here longer, stronger, unshaken. 

My gaze drifts to the stands and that’s when I see her. 

Ella. She is so radiant in the way that only people who know they are being watched can be. Perfect hair, practiced smile. 

She’s leaning close to a friend, her lips moving fast, words tumbling out with practiced charm. 

“Dylan is the future,” she says, her voice loud enough for me to hear. Admiration drips from every syllable. “He is so talented and so promising. He’s going to take this league by storm.” 

I glance back at the field–at Dylan’s stumble and Aiden’s clean breakaway. 

The image she paints and the reality I see are worlds apart. Ella’s smile falters. She watches as Aiden slams through Dylan’s defense like a wall that won’t crack. 

Her fingers tighten around her soda cup. Her friend, sensing the shift, leans closer with a teasing grin. “Honestly,” the friend says, eyes flicking to the field, “Aiden’s the one who’s really attractive. 

“And since you and him are now divorced…” She smirks, shrugging “Maybe I have a chance.” 

Ella’s head snaps toward her, eyes flashing. 

“Don’t,” she hisses, sharp enough to slice. “Don’t even think about it.” The friend only laughs, amused by the reaction. 

“What, are you still in love with him? You’ve got to admit, he’s got more going for him than Dylan. Always has.” 

Silence. 

2/3 

Chapter 9 

+25 Bonus 

Ella doesn’t deny it. Her lips press together, eyes flicking back to the field where Aiden moves with so much relentless power. I grip my clipboard tighter as the edges bite into my palms. 

Her words echo in my head, blending with the memory of their conversation I overheard days ago. The one between Aiden and Ella, the one that told me more than either of them wanted. 

It seems clear now–Aiden hasn’t let her go. 

The thought sharpens into something dangerous. Something useful. 

And as the crowd roars, as Aiden slams past Dylan one more time, an idea takes root. 

An idea I can use. 

P