Page 39

Thirty-Nine

Aiden

I frown as I look at my phone, something prickling at back of my nape.

“What is it?” Smitty says.

“Nothing,” I mutter, shoving my phone away and going back to getting undressed.

“Dude.”

“What?” I ask as I yank at my laces, shove off my skates.

“That’s not the face of a man who’s thinking about nothing .

” He tosses his jersey into the bin in the center of the room.

“You played great tonight, so it’s not hockey.

” He slants his gaze in my direction. “Did you fuck up with Luna and need to apologize? I figured you’d have a longer grace period considering the whole aligning your wife with some powerful billionaires thing, but who am I to know?

” He lifts one big shoulder then drops it.

“I suggest flowers and chocolate and maybe a brand-new laptop.”

“What?” I grumble. “No jewelry?”

“My woman would rather have computer parts,” he says. “So, no. I can’t vouch for the apologetic properties of jewelry.”

I roll my eyes.

Still, Luns loved the ring I bought her, so I think I might have better luck with jewelry than Smitty does.

But the apologetic property of diamonds are honestly the least of my concerns right now.

Because I texted Luna before the game.

And she still hasn’t replied.

Not that I expect her to respond to me instantly—but it’s been four hours.

And my nape is prickling.

And…

“What’s it for Luna?” he asks and I blink, putting my phone aside again.

“What?”

“Aside from chocolate and flowers, what’s Luna’s soft spot?”

Books.

My mouth kicks up.

And ice cream.

And jewelry.

“You’re not going to share?”

“Nah.” I yank off my socks, my shin guards, then make short work of the rest of my gear.

“Lame,” he grumbles. But he’s smiling, and I know he’s not upset when he says, “Think your mom is due for another round of karaoke yet?”

God, no.

I shudder.

“Nope.”

“No?”

“She pulled a muscle in that dance-off with you at the party, remember?”

“I told her she needed to go easy on the splits.”

My mother and Smitty together are a dangerous proposition.

I shake my head and add, knowing I need to give him shit…

because this is a hockey locker room and things don’t feel right without dishing up shit—even with my mind prickling, worry snaking through my stomach.

“And also no more karaoke because my ears can’t handle another round.

” I strip off my jock, my long-sleeved Grizzlies-emblazoned undershirt, toss the latter into the dirty pile, hang the former with the rest of my equipment so it can be cleaned (well, everything except for my lucky socks, that is).

“Rude,” Smitty mutters, glaring at me as I snag a towel and head into the showers.

But I make it quick because the conversation with Smitty is semi-humorous as always, but it doesn’t change the niggling in the back of my mind and I don’t want to delay further.

Luna didn’t text back.

From the moment she leveled with me about everything, she’s always texted back, always been available.

It’s been easy, in fact—falling back into the old routine, becoming partners in crime again.

Turns out when you’re hopping into a fake marriage with both parties aware of exactly what’s at stake, the bullshit falls away.

And we can just be us.

It also helps that we set the sheets on fire.

Orgasms. Right.

Smitty buys computer parts…I’ll win over my woman with orgasms.

And jewelry. And pastries. And ice cream. And books.

I rush through drying off and getting dressed, knowing that since it’s after eleven, I know exactly which one of those I can utilize tonight if I really did piss off Luns tonight.

That would be…orgasms.

Win-win.

And yeah, maybe Smitty is on to something.

I snag my stuff, hurry to my car, and head home, glad we’re playing in San Jose and not on the road, so it doesn’t take long to make the drive.

The lights are blazing when I pull into the driveway, something that intensifies the niggling in my mind, especially when I spot an unfamiliar car parked in front of the house.

The board meeting was today.

Luns got her victory.

And her brother and father?—

“Shit,” I hiss as I pull to a halt, slamming the transmission into park. I throw open the door and don’t think, just haul ass inside.

Shouting reaches me the second I shove into the mudroom, angry voices echoing down the hall.

I rush forward, skidding as I turn the corner into the kitchen, temper spiking when I see Luna arching away from her brother, whose face is mottled red and scrunched up in anger…and shoved right into Luna’s.

“What did I fucking say?” I growl, striding forward and grabbing John’s shirt, ripping him away from my woman.

He stumbles back, falling hard into the cabinets.

“I-I tried to stop him.”

I spin, realize that I missed the other person in the room.

The other man .

Or the one pretending to be a man, anyway.

“You tried to stop him?” I grit out, striding toward Frank Maybelle, glaring at her father. “You fucking tried?”

“Aiden—”

My eyes slice to Luna’s—and whatever she sees in my gaze has her lips clamping together, swallowing down the rest of the sentence. What I see in hers, however, has my temper ratcheting up.

Fear.

Of me.

Grinding my teeth together, I swivel my gaze back toward Frank. “You tried to stop him?” I ask icily.

A nod that’s so rapid and uncontrolled, he resembles a bobblehead. “Yes,” he says. “Our team of lawyers has advised that we keep our distance considering the legal fight ahead, but John’s always been a little bit of a…”

“An asshole?” I supply.

“Impulsive,” Frank says quietly as John groans and pushes to his feet.

“Aiden!”

I jerk at Luna’s warning, turning just in time to see John launch himself at me, proving that impulsivity—and frankly, his stupidity—all over again.

I sidestep him, wince when he bounces off the cabinets a second time.

“You know,” I say, nudging him back with my foot when he swipes at my leg, “you could always find a way to work with Luna—do some good as you take advantage of capitalism and all that.”

“The board would never agree—” Frank begins.

“Except, they did,” Luna reminds him.

“Yeah, because of Henderson and Dubois,” John snaps. “They’re like the golden stepchild mafia—they always get their way and the press eats that shit up.”

“Because they’re trying to do good things,” Luna says, coming to my side, leaning against me, soothing the rough edges of my guilt twining through my insides because I scared her. “Like what I want to do.”

“Good things that will bankrupt us,” John sneers.

“No.” She sighs. “But you’ve never trusted anyone but yourself so what’s the point of trying to convince you?

Jace and Jean-Michel are on my side, I have Grams’s stock and the majority shares and the board on my side.

You’re out of moves, John, so you can either get with the program or you can get left behind. ”

“You—”

“And that’s the last thing I’m going to say about it,” she says.

Her voice is like steel and fuck, but I’m so damned proud of her.

“If you have a problem with that then I don’t know what to tell you except that the next time you show up unwelcome and get in my face, I’ll be skipping the side of intimidation you’re attempting to dish out and go straight to calling the police. ”

“I’ll give you your share of the trust fund.” Desperate words.

Pathetic words.

Even Frank, the coward now trying to make himself disappear into the cabinets, winces.

“You mean the share I’m going to have anyway?” she asks archly.

He scowls.

And it’s late, I came home to my woman dealing with her asshole family— again —and I’m beyond done with this shit.

“Consider our first call in the morning to be arranging for a restraining order,” I tell him.

That scowl deepens.

“And that’s your cue to leave,” Luns says.

So calmly. So cooly. So collected that we may as well be ordering pastries at Molly’s.

God, I love her.

“Like now,” I mutter, striding to the front door and pulling it open. Then glaring at them before they move my way…and then out onto the porch.

I slam the door, twist the lock.

“Thank God they’re go— ack! ”

I crush her against my chest, absorbing her squeak. “Fuck, tiny tornado, you scared the shit out of me.”

She frowns. “What? How?”

“You didn’t text me back and then I came in to that shit again.” I tuck her hair behind her ear. “I thought you were pissed at me, not getting accosted by your fucking family again.”

“I think that maybe I need to work with Jean-Michel’s security company,” she says when I finally loosen my grip.

“You’re right,” I say softly. “ We do.”

Her face gentles. “You thought I didn’t answer your text because I was mad?”

I nod.

She winces, chagrin in those beautiful eyes. “Bri brought me a book for a read along.” A wince. “We got a little…distracted by the sexy fae prince, and I lost track of time.”

I start laughing.

“What?”

I take her hand, draw her with me out into the garage, pulling my bag from the back seat. Then the bag from inside that. “A sexy fae prince like this one?”

“What is this?” she asks quietly.

“A book I picked up for you earlier this week…and was going to bribe you with tonight if you were pissed at me.”

Her brow furrows. “How could I have been pissed at you?”

I shrug. “Because women are confusing?” A beat. “And maybe also because I was hoping this and a bevy of orgasms would make you un pissed?”

She giggles.

Then lightly touches my cheek. “I didn’t even have a chance to make you your hot cocoa.”

“Trust me,” I tell her, “orgasms are better. Plus,” I murmur, peeling her hand from my cheek and pressing a kiss to her palm, “holding you as I drift off is the best sleep aid on the planet.”

I expect her to laugh.

Or to swat at my chest.

But, as usual, my tiny tornado surprises me…

By bursting into tears.

“I…Luns, sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

She lifts her head, sobs still hitching her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I-it’s j-just—” A deep, shaky breath. “I love you so damned much!”