Page 4 of On Ice

Luca

I wake before dawn, disoriented by unfamiliar surroundings. The first hints of morning light filter through blinds I don’t recognize, casting stripes across a bed that isn’t mine. City sounds drift up from the street below; early delivery trucks, the distant wail of a siren, the steady hum of a city stirring to life. It takes me a moment to remember where I am, and then I feel him shift beside me.

Evan sleeps deeply, one arm thrown across my chest, his face peaceful in the gray light. His hair is mussed from my hands, and there’s a mark on his neck that I put there. He looks so innocent, cheeks flushed a rosy pink. Something uncomfortable twists in my chest at the sight. I’m used to maintaining distance, to never letting anyone close enough to matter. But last night...

Last night was different.

The memories flood back unbidden. His mouth on mine, desperate and wanting. The way he arched beneath me, breathless and beautiful. How he looked at me after, with such open trust it made my chest ache. No one’s ever looked at me like that before. Like they saw past the blood and violence of what I really am. But then again, Evan has no idea who and what I am. He still thinks I’m simply the new owner of his hockey team who fucks like a stallion.

With a smirk, I ease out from under his arm, careful not to wake him. The wooden floor is cold under my feet as I gather my clothes. We were in a hurry to fuck last night and I didn’t even bother putting my five hundred dollar suit on a chair. Everything is crumpled on the floor where I left it once my lust took hold.

I head to the bathroom and, once there, splash cold water on my face and try to get my head straight. The mirror shows fresh scratches on my shoulders, reminders of how passionate and out of control my night with Evan was. This was a mistake, no doubt about it. I thought it would just be a quick fuck, I’d tell Evan what my plans were, and I’d be on my way. Didn’t plan to spend the whole damn night.

But here we are.

I dress hurriedly, armor myself in Italian wool and silk. My reflection in the bathroom mirror looks calmer now. I’m back in control of my emotions. It was just sex. Really, really, really good sex, but just sex all the same. Now comes the part where I burst Evan’s bubble. I should have done it last night, but I didn’t. Now it absolutely must happen. I’ll admit, I’m not looking forward to telling him the truth. Not because I’m a nice guy or anything. It’s more about me than him.

I liked the way he looked at me last night. I liked pampering him and taking him home, like we were just two people on a date. Evan has no idea who I really am, so I got to play the role of the good guy for once. Anyone I’ve slept with in the last decade already had preconceived ideas about me before we even hit the sheets. Not that they were wrong. I am a brutal, murderous bastard most of the time. I have to be.

It was just nice to be someone else last night.

But now it’s time for the truth. It’s time to set Evan straight about what he really is to me. He’s an asset. He needs to know that. I don’t like disappointing him, but this is how it has to be. I’ll make sure he’s hugely financially compensated. That should help take some of the sting out of this fucked up situation for him. Money has a way of fixing what’s wrong.

Since Evan is still sleeping, and I feel bad about waking him up just to dump all this shit on him first thing, I decide to make coffee. The kitchen is small and disorganized. It takes way longer than it should to find coffee and filters. I’m eventually successful, locating the coffee in the freezer and the filters in with the canned goods.

“Why does he live in this shitty little apartment?” I mutter, scooping coffee into the coffeemaker. With no filtered water, I’m forced to use tap. I can’t understand why Evan seems to be living like a pauper. I know for a fact he earns the minimum salary required for lower-tier NHL players, and that’s no small sum. So why is he living in a dumpy apartment when he could easily afford a sleek studio downtown?

As I wait for the coffee to brew I look at some photos Evan has on the fridge. They’re mostly team photos. There are some with Noah and him, both grinning after what looks like a winning game. There’s also one faded photo of him with a woman who has the same eyes as him. In the photo, Evan is younger, probably high school age. The woman is smiling at the camera and Evan is smiling at her. Even though it’s only a photo, I can feel how much he loves her. I study the picture for a while, wondering if he had a happy childhood and that’s why he seems like such a well-adjusted person.

I shake myself as those sentimental thoughts go through my head. The worst thing I can do right now is to fixate on Evan as a person. I’m about to dump a big, dramatic moral dilemma on him. The last thing I need is to see him as human or to feel empathetic toward him. He is just a cog in the wheel.

With that in mind, I move on to a shelf over a small microwave that holds a collection of pucks displayed, each marked with a date; first goal, first hat trick, first game as captain. He obviously loves the game deeply if he’s collected all these sentimental souvenirs over the years. I grit my teeth as I realize I’m once more being sucked down a rabbit hole of what a great guy Evan is. If I keep this up, I’ll be tempted to start a fan club for him.

I move back to the gurgling coffee maker. I lean against the counter, trying to ignore how domestic this feels. I haven’t done a “morning after” with a guy in ages. I’m always gone by the time they wake up, and I never take them back to my place. Yet here I stand, making coffee for a guy I have to crush in a few minutes.

I glance at my watch, feeling antsy. I should probably wake Evan, but still I hesitate. My father would be disappointed in me right now. If he were in this situation he’d have woken Evan up immediately to tell him the bad news. He’d always lectured me about keeping a tight rein on my emotions. It had been his view that the moment you felt something for someone, who wasn’t your blood, you were weak. Vulnerable. I didn’t disagree with him, especially as the head of a crime family. But it was a lonely way to live. Marco was really the only non-blood related person I was close to, and Father had never liked our friendship.

There’s movement out of the corner of my eye and Evan enters the kitchen. He’s wearing jeans but no shirt, and his hair is messy. “I thought you left,” he says, giving me a tentative smile.

“Nope. Not yet.” My voice is gravelly because I’m struggling with the desire to hug him and give him a good morning kiss. Any second now he’s going to hate my guts, and for whatever reason that bothers me.

“Do I smell coffee?” He moves closer, gives me a little peck on the mouth, but doesn’t linger, instead moving away toward the coffee maker.

The tiny kiss makes me hunger for more, but I stamp that need down. “Yeah, I made coffee.”

He leans toward me, a flirty smile on his lips. “You’re the best, boss.”

I inhale his clean scent and, again, I have to resist the urge to slip my arm around his narrow waist and tug him against me. I’d love to taste his luscious mouth one more time, but that’s a bad idea.

“It smells better than usual. All I have is cheap coffee. You must have the magic touch with coffee beans.” He smirks.

“Probably. I have the magic touch with a lot of things.”

He laughs. “Is that so?”

“You know I do.” I’m getting carried away flirting with him. That isn’t the right way to handle this moment. I need distance from him. So far, he seems to understand that last night was a one-off. Nothing more. That’s exactly as it should be. If he’d come into the kitchen acting all lovey-dovey and clingy that would just make what I need to do that much harder.

“You’ll get no argument from me.” He smiles and goes to the cupboard, taking out two mugs. One has the Ice Hawks logo, worn from years of use. The other says ‘World’s Okayest Brother’. He sets them next to the coffeemaker, then goes to the fridge to get cream.

It’s hard not to run my gaze hungrily over his half naked body. His chest and shoulders are all tanned and sinewy muscle. I’d love to bend him over the sink and have one final go at his perfect ass. Would he like that? Would he beg for more?

Stop it. God. This is not helping.

Feeling flushed and jittery, I clear my throat. “Aren’t you curious about why I’m still here?”

He wrinkles his brow. “Is it that big of a deal that you are?”

His response throws me for a second, but I gather myself. “Normally I’d have left already. Before you woke up.”

“I see.” He bites his bottom lip, probably without realizing how damn sexy it makes him look.

Focus, dumbass.

“I’m still here because we need to talk.” My voice comes out harsher than intended and he visibly flinches.

He sighs. “Luca, I already told you it’s cool. I’m not going to say a word about what happened. We’re both consenting adults, and it’s nobody’s business but ours. Okay?”

As cold as I’m trying to be, I can’t escape the twinge of guilt I feel at his attempt to comfort me. He thinks I’m worried about sleeping together. He’s concerned for me, and I’m only focused on setting him straight about how little he matters. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about,” I force myself to say.

He pours coffee into both of our mugs. “Okay, well, what do you need to talk about?” He glances up. “Cream?”

I blink at him and then realize he’s asking how I take my coffee. “Uh, no. Black is fine.”

He hands me the mug with the team logo on it, and cradles his between his hands. He watches me apprehensively, waiting for me to speak.

“I bought the team to make money.” I sound stilted. I thought ahead about what I wanted to say to him, but the words are all jumbled up in my head now.

“Okay.” He nods. “I assumed that was why you bought the team. Nobody spends that much money unless they want to make it back and then some.”

“Right. That’s exactly it. I plan on using the Ice Hawks to make a shit-load of money.” I sip my coffee, still struggling to find the words I need. Why is this so fucking hard? Why am I dreading the look I know is coming? Why do I care if he’s mad at me once he knows the truth?

I don’t care. Not really. I just would have liked to fuck him again.

Yes. That’s obviously all this is. The sex was really good and I’m disappointed I can’t sleep with him again. There’s nothing deep going on here. It’s simply too bad I can’t have another taste.

I exhale harshly. “The thing is, Evan, I’m going to need you to help me make that money.”

“Of course.” He smiles. “I’ll play my hardest this season. The team is ready. This is our year. You just wait and see. And if you’re putting money into things like equipment and support staff, I don’t see how we can lose.”

My chest tightens at his enthusiastic, completely clueless response. As I stare into his pretty eyes, I feel like I’m about to kick a puppy. Pop a toddler’s balloon. I don’t feel good about what’s coming, but it has to happen.

Rip the fucking Band-Aid off already.

“That isn’t quite what I mean.” I inhale a calming breath. “I’m not just a businessman, Evan. I’m much more than that.”

He frowns in confusion. “What do you mean?”

I hold his gaze. “I’m the head of the Barone syndicate. I’m not your typical investor. Do you understand?”

His frown deepens, but then his face tenses as recognition dawns in his eyes. “Barone.” He sets his coffee cup down so hard it splashes onto the counter. The color drains from his face, and he leans heavily on the counter, looking stunned. “You’re that Luca Barone?”

Usually when I tell people my name, I’m proud. I like the way fear changes their features as they realize who I am. But today, I don’t feel pride. I’m not sure what I feel as Evan stares at me in shock that slowly morphs into disgust, but it sure as fuck isn’t pride.

“That’s right.” I lift my chin. “The Ice Hawks belong to me now. You belong to me, Evan. You and your team are going to play an important role in my gambling organization. Together, we’ll make an obscene amount of money.”

He wrinkles his brow, looking confused. “I’m sorry, what? You want to use my team to do what?”

I brush aside his question because it’s expected that he’ll be confused about what I want from him. Everyone I’ve ever bribed always reacts this way. But just like them, hearing how much money he’ll make should help him get over his shock and apprehension. “You’ll make more money than the others on the team because you’ll be playing a pivotal role.”

His eyes widen ever so slightly. “Me?”

“Yes.” I ignore how shitty his bewildered expression makes me feel. “You’re the captain. You control the game.”

“I… I don’t control the game. No one can control the game.” He sounds breathless. Borderline panicked. “If that were the case we’d have won the playoffs every year.”

“I think we both know you can influence things hugely. Especially the losses.” I don’t like the sudden, stubborn tilt to his jaw. It makes me uneasy. I just want him to do as I say so I don’t have to start threatening him. Not that I have a problem threatening people, but I really enjoyed my time with Evan last night. I’d rather not have to break his legs.

He swallows loudly. “You’re giving me way too much credit for the game wins and losses.”

“Bullshit,” I cut in. “You could deliberately misfire passes, or leave opposing players unguarded near the net. There are a million ways you could disrupt how well your team plays.”

He looks like he has a bad taste in his mouth. “You want me to play against my own guys? You want me, as their leader, to actively work against them?”

“I want you to do whatever it takes to ensure we win or lose, depending on what I decide we need for that game,” I say darkly.

After a strained silence, he gives a subtle shake of his head. “No.”

I squint at him in disbelief. “I’m sorry, what do you mean, no?”

His green eyes flash with anger and his face is flushed. “I mean no fucking way is that happening.”

People don’t tell me no, so I’m taken aback by his reaction. In fact, I’m thrown enough that I can’t help laughing. Usually people react to my threats with more sniveling and pleading. He’s skipped straight to the rebellious phase. He seems to think this is a negotiation. “It is happening, Evan.”

He shakes his head hard and doubles down. “Fuck no. You’re not using my team like that.”

I blink at him, trying not to laugh again. The audacity of this punk has taken me by surprise. Does this little pipsqueak actually think he can fight me? Does he not realize I can crush him like a bug? “You’re wrong,” I say harshly. “It’s happening, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it either. Other than quit the team. Do you want to quit the team, Evan?”

His jaw clenches so hard a vein bulges in his temple. “Of course not.”

“Then you’d better change your attitude real fast,” I grate out. “This isn’t a negotiation. It’s a done deal. You either play along, or you’re not useful to me.”

For a split second I see fear in his eyes, but then he hides it. His face twitches and his eyes are cold and hard. “You don’t get to come in and take over my team. They’re not yours and I’m not yours.”

“Are you for real?” I ask disbelievingly, studying his pinched face. He’s like a butterfly trying to arm wrestle a lion. Does he not understand how insignificant he is in the scheme of things? Does this dumbass actually think he has power? He doesn’t, but I need to get control of him fast. Ultimately, he won’t win against me no matter how hard he fights, but he sure as fuck could cause me a lot of trouble.

“I’m not letting you use my team for anything illegal.” His body is trembling, showing he’s scared, but I have to admire he’s not backing down. It irritates the shit out of me, but I have to respect he has guts.

“I don’t need you to be a part of this,” I say coldly. “If you don’t play ball, you’re expendable.”

His breathing quickens. “Meaning what? You’ll kill me or something?”

I lift one shoulder. “I’d rather not have to resort to violence. I’d rather you just play your part like a good boy and we can all get very rich.”

“I make plenty of money already.”

I glance around the tiny kitchen. “Wouldn’t know that from this place. I know you make above the league’s minimum salary. Why do you live in a shithole like this?”

His face flushes and he avoids my gaze. “It’s none of your business why I live here. Nothing I do is your business.”

I’m not sure why he’s being cagey about where all his money goes, but it’s neither here nor there in the scheme of things. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’ll be keeping a close eye on you for a while, Evan. At least until I know I can trust you to do what I need you to do.” I sip my coffee, noticing how the pulse races at the base of his throat. I remember kissing that little sweet spot last night. I remember everything about last night. I wish I didn’t, but I do.

He meets my gaze, his frustration radiating off of him. He’s staring at me like he wants to rip open my brain and read my thoughts. “Why can’t you pick some other team? Leave us alone. I’m sure there are plenty of unscrupulous team captains who’d be fine with your little plan. I’m not one of them.”

“It’s too late. I already bought this team,” I respond in a bored tone. “You’ll feel a lot better about things once you start getting compensated for your cooperation.”

Anger sparks in his eyes. “I don’t want your money. I care more about my honor than I do getting rich.”

“Honor.” I say the word like it disgusts me. “What does that even mean ‘you care more about your honor’?”

He licks his lips. “It means I’m not willing to sell my soul for a profit. It means I care about my team more than I care about money .”

“Well, that’s just pathetic.” I sneer. “I bet if I made this offer to Noah or Deck they’d be on board.”

“You’re wrong.” His voice wobbles.

“I don’t think I am,” I murmur.

“We’re not like you,” he says gruffly. “We believe in something other than ourselves.”

Irritation spikes through me. “You know nothing about me. Who the fuck are you to judge me?”

“I know you’re a lowlife crook,” he growls, crossing his arms across his bare chest. “I can’t believe I thought you were a good guy. I can’t believe I thought you might be good for the team.”

“I will be good for the team. I’m just what you need.”

He narrows his eyes. “Bullshit. You aren’t going to help us. You want to make us into a joke.”

“Not at all.”

He hesitates and then says coldly, “You want us to throw games, right? Isn’t that how this works? Isn’t that how you make your money off of us?”

“I don’t want you to throw all the games. Just some strategic ones.” I smirk, pushing my hands into my pockets. “You have to win too, to keep people guessing.”

His mouth thins. “I’m not a crook like you, Luca. I won’t do it. I don’t care if you kill me, I won’t play along with you. I won’t let you destroy my team.”

The pure disdain in his words drips over me, and my face warms. I have no idea why his bitter words bother me. It’s not like I haven’t been called worse names by a lot of enraged people. When you threaten people into doing stuff they don’t want to do, or you take things from them they don’t want to give up, people tend to let a lot of angry crap fly. Why would I care what Evan says?

To give myself time to calm down, I sip my coffee, holding his furious glare. The liquid has gone cold while we’ve been arguing, and it tastes disgusting. I choke it down, trying not to show how revolting it tastes. I set my cup down, making sure there isn’t even the slightest tremor in my hand. He needs to fear me. He can never know his words have gotten under my skin. That’s unacceptable.

“The beauty of buying a team like the Ice Hawks is that it allows me to do a lot of different stuff,” I say, as if he hasn’t just told me to go to hell. “There’s inside information rackets, money laundering, high-stakes betting events. The list goes on and on.”

He narrows his eyes. “I told you, we’re not going to be a part of your plan.”

I’ll be honest, I never in a million years expected this much pushback from Evan. I figured he’d be hurt and betrayed that the guy he’d slept with planned to use him to make money by throwing games. It hadn’t occurred to me that the sexy, easy- going guy I’d wined, dined, and spent the night with had an actual spine. But he does. Instead of falling apart, he’s pissed and fighting back, and I can’t help but admire him.

But he needs to learn his place.

“Do you foolishly think you’re the only one who will suffer if you keep fighting me, Evan?” I lean toward him in a threatening manner and he moves back slightly. That’s good. It shows he’s not nearly as confident as he’s pretending.

“What does that mean?” he asks quietly.

I curl my lip. “You know exactly what it means. If you’re too stupid to care about your own life, maybe you’ll care about Noah’s.”

A shudder runs through him and the blood leaves his cheeks. “Wha… what?” he whispers.

“You heard me. If you don’t do what I want, it’s Noah who will be punished. It’s obvious you’re too stubborn or stupid, or maybe both, to care about your own life. But you care about the team. They’re everything to you.”

“Don’t you dare threaten Noah.” His voice shakes so hard, he sounds like he’s riding a roller coaster.

“You’re not the one in charge here, I am,” I snarl. “You’ll do what I want or Noah will pay. And if that isn’t enough to get you in line, then I’ll move on to Torres and Deck. There are plenty of pawns on the board besides you. Wake the fuck up.”

He takes a step back as if he’s been struck, bracing himself with one hand on the kitchen counter. “You’re a monster.”

“Yeah, I am,” I hiss. “Do what I tell you to do and shut up. You’ll make a lot of money as will the rest of the team. If you treat me right, maybe I’ll even let you end the season with the Stanley Cup.”

“What does that mean?”

I shrug. “It means your team isn’t the only team I can get to.”

He looks sick. “I wouldn’t want to win the cup that way.”

“No? Too proud?” I smirk.

He lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah, Luca, I am. If I don’t earn it I don’t fucking want it.” His voice breaks and he grits his teeth.

The pain and pride in his voice makes my chest tighten oddly. I thought he’d be happy if I offered him the Stanley cup. Instead, he looks horrified that he might win it like that. Once more I find myself confused by him. Why wouldn’t he want that trophy handed to him? Why would it matter how he got it so long as he got it? I know from our conversations last night that’s his dream; to win the playoffs one day.

“Fine, don’t win the playoffs,” I say harshly, trying to cover my confusion. “So long as we can set up the wins and losses for optimum profit, I don’t really care.”

He hangs his head and he’s quiet for a few minutes. A muscle works in his jaw as he struggles with the barrage of emotions I’m sure he’s feeling. When he finally lifts his gaze to mine, there’s resignation there. “Luca, we worked like hell to get where we are. Please don’t do this to us.”

My gut churns as I hold his pleading gaze. After last night, I have a sense of who Evan is. He has a lot of pride. I’m sure it’s agony to beg me like he’s doing. I feel a little sick that he’s decided to do it, if I’m honest. But that’s how much he loves his team.

“It’s too late.” I force myself to sound hard and cold. Crushing down the strange empathy I feel for him is my only defense. I can’t back out of this now even if I wanted to. That would make me look weak. Indecisive. In my line of work, that could get me killed. I have to push forward now. That’s the only path for me.

I glance at my watch and then meet his resentful gaze. “We’ll have to finish this discussion later. I have to meet the rest of the team in an hour.”

He doesn’t speak, but if looks could kill…

“It’s important that you not tell anyone anything we’ve discussed,” I warn.

He scowls. “Maybe if they know what a scumbag you are then they’ll know not to listen to you. Not to trust you.”

My smile is strained. “Don’t push me too far, Evan. I’ve been very patient with you, but my patience isn’t limitless. If you tell the team, or anyone for that matter, what my plans are for the Ice Hawks, it won’t end well. Loose lips sink ships, and I’ll tell you right now, I’m not the type who goes down with the ship. Capisce?”

He grimaces but stays silent.

“Tell me you heard me and you understand, Evan,” I grate.

He curls his lip. “I heard you and I understand you’re a piece of shit.”

I move to the door and right before I leave, I give him a gloating smile. One designed to make his blood boil. “I’ll see you at the team meeting. Oh, and by the way, thanks for last night. I thoroughly enjoyed my time with you. We should do it again sometime.”

I guess I really hit a nerve, because as I close the door, I hear something heavy thump against it, followed by the sound of breaking glass.