Page 16

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jordy

After the game, I rushed back to my penthouse and only stopped worrying that Lola had changed her mind when the roller door of my private garage opened, revealing Lola’s white Nissan SUV.

For the first time in my life, my stomach is doing excitable backflips at the thought of seeing her again. I've never felt like this over a girl before. I started dating Sienna in high school, which feels like a lifetime ago, and I've forgotten what it felt like in the beginning.

I smile, trying to keep my cool, which is difficult given that I have a beautiful woman waiting for me inside my apartment.

Not just any woman. Lola.

Extraordinary in every way, she’s under my skin, and suddenly, I’m second-guessing everything I say and do, hoping I don’t mess it up.

Which is stupid of me, because we’re just having a bit of fun, aren’t we?

So why does it bother me so much that she showed up to the game tonight wearing another man’s name and number on her jersey? Again, I shouldn’t care because she’s Wade’s assistant and it makes sense that she would wear his jersey, yet I didn’t like it.

I was jealous, and I’m not a jealous guy.

I almost ripped the shirt off her. It’s fucked up, I know it is, but it annoyed me more than it should have, and I’ve been itching to get home to her ever since.

Tapping the keycard against my fingers as the doors open, I step out of the elevator and search the warmly lit space for a bubbly blonde-haired bombshell I’ve been fixated on for a while and when the opportunity arose last night to finally make my move, I took it. My obsession with her has grown even more since last night.

Other than the table being set for two and the soft glow from the oven light with a casserole dish tucked safely inside, there is no evidence of Lola anywhere. Inhaling the rich, inviting aromatic scent that fills my home, my mouth waters and my stomach rumbles.

I am ravenous, and not just for food.

“Lola?”

No answer.

Removing my suit jacket, I throw it over the sofa and search for her down the hallway that leads to my bedroom. “Lola.” Still no reply.

I notice the light on inside my studio. Not somewhere I let anyone into. Not even my sisters and I share every part of my life with them.

Pushing open the door, I step inside and smile at the same time my heart settles in my chest when I find Lola curled up sleeping on the regency-style chaise lounge I never sit on but have as more of an ornamental piece.

She’s a beam of light, her blonde hair an obvious contrast to the raven-velvet fabric. Zero makeup on, she’s so beautiful it hurts my heart to look at her, because she’s not, and never will be, mine.

Fun. Is that all I am to her? A distraction?

When to me, she’s so much more.

Kneeling next to the sofa, I secure a lock of her hair behind her ear.

Her eyes, which are full of sleep, flutter open.

“Hey, baby.”

A full-on smile shapes her lips. “Hi.” Welcoming me, she cups my face. “I’m sorry you lost the game tonight.”

“We’re not even halfway through the season. We’ll come back fighting.”

“Like you always do, you’re Stanley Cup winners four years in a row after all.

“Champions, baby.”

“You are.” Mouth open wide, she yawns. “Dinner is ready.” Her words are drawn out and lazy.

“You actually made dinner for me?” I genuinely can’t believe she cooked for me. Sienna would always order takeout.

Comparing Lola to Sienna is wrong. I need to stop it because they are nothing alike.

“I made you a turkey and lentil casserole. Heaps of protein for after a game.”

Fuck, why does her caring about what foods I eat make me like her more?

“Thank you. Are you tired?” Worry shrouds my words.

“Yeah.” Still lying down, she lets out another little yawn and rubs her nose. “I've had a shitty day.”

“Started off well,” I joke, referring to her coming all over my tongue after breakfast this morning and the fun we had in my truck, but I’m concerned about what happened after I left her at Wade’s.

“Might be a good way to end the day just the same as it started. It might help make it better.” She cheekily grins, her eyes shutter closed then open again as if adjusting to the light.

“That can be arranged, Ms. Ramsay.” I can’t help but ask, “What happened today?” I keep my voice low and soft to help make her feel at ease.

Unable to look at me, she inhales a deep breath as if preparing herself.

“I think meeting Graham at the same time my father had his first heart attack a year ago was no coincidence,” she replies, rubbing her eyes.

“It wasn’t?”

“No. He knew my father was unwell because he worked as a chef at one of the restaurants my father owns. He was charming, funny, and remembered everything I told him, and he always asked about my dad too. It seemed like he cared.”

“Your dad owns a restaurant?” I ask.

“A chain of them, as well as coffee shops.” Pausing for a beat she adds, “I own them now. Just please don’t ask me why I am working for the Eagles, because I can’t tell you that until the?—”

“End of the season, I know, you’ve said.” I finish her sentence.

Moving onto her back she stares at the ceiling while I park my ass on the floor and lean my side against the chaise.

“When my dad’s health declined, my world started to crumble. Then my dad had his second heart attack, and he was kept in for a week for observation and Graham showed up. It was surprising, but also nice, and I was grateful when he started visiting regularly. I actually loved it when he showed up by my dad’s bedside with snacks, and books written by my dad’s favorite author. He was… too good to be true.”

Nibbling on her bottom lip, she looks like she’s fighting the urge to continue.

“If it’s too painful, you don’t have to tell me, Lola.”

Rolling her head to the side, her eyes hit mine. “I want to.” She takes a minute to gather her thoughts. “Graham moved fast. Within a week, we were dating and he cast me under his Prince Charming spell. Within two weeks, he told me he loved me and said he was going to marry me because he just knew .”

“Wow.” That’s fast, although I can see how that could be possible. Lola is fucking beautiful and I can see myself falling for her quite easily. Panic weaves its way around my throat, making my palms sweat because I can’t let myself think those spiraling thoughts.

Remember, Jordan, this is just a hook up for her. To help her forget her ex.

It’s foolish of me to think it’s anything more.

Her face falls. “I believed him.” She rolls her head back to center. “He stepped in to help run the restaurants and cafes with me when my father couldn’t, and every day he swept me off my feet with his good looks and romantic gestures that helped take my mind off Dad’s declining health. Not once did I question his intentions. I thought they were honorable.”

She’s going to fucking drop a bombshell soon. I can feel it.

“He once told me that he wanted to be a director of my father’s business. I had to explain to him that we would look at it once we were married in a few years, which caused him to have a mini breakdown. He blamed me for his nasty words and angry mood that made him punch a hole in the wall. He said I didn’t love him enough to want to marry him sooner.” Blinking faster, she adds, “He had this uncanny ability to make me feel like everything was my fault.”

The mood in my studio changes. I can feel her growing sadder, while anger crawls up my spine. If he so much as touched her, I will fucking end him.

Moving back onto her side, she lays her hand under her cheek. “He’s a master manipulator. I didn’t see it then but I see it now.”

“Please tell me what the fuck happened, Lola?” I’m one step away from having a cardiac arrest myself and have to loosen my tie that feels like it’s strangling me.

“He stole over one hundred thousand dollars from me. He’s been siphoning it away for months.” Tears run down her cheeks soaking into the fabric beneath her. “My father must be spinning in his grave, knowing how careless I’ve been. He was a savvy businessman and would never have agreed to let Graham become a director.”

Every cell in my body is thankful she had the foresight to shut Graham’s request down.

What a cunning fucker. “How did you find out?” I lay my hand on her cheek.

“From the bank statement I picked up from the mailman today when we were leaving my old apartment. When I called the bank they confirmed every transaction outlined on the paper statement was legitimate and had been made using my login details to transfer money to a Mr. James Kennedy.”

“James?”

“Graham is his middle name. Which I didn’t know either. I checked both his job application form when he applied to be a chef at one of our restaurants, and his employee record and they both say Graham. There is no mention of James.” She clears her throat. “Over the phone, the bank confirmed transfers from my account and into his from not just one, but three of my accounts.”

Motherfucker.

“In my head, I knew it was Graham, but my heart didn’t want to believe it.”

“But it’s true, right?” For her sake, I wish it wasn’t.

“Yeah.” She confirms with a nod. “There was nothing big or obvious but lots of smaller transfers made over the last year. It was all the evidence I needed for me to visit the police station and file a report against him.”

“You went to the police station alone?”

“Yeah,” she replies, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

My blood turns cold. “I would have come with you. You should have called.”

“We’re not even a thing you and I, Jordy. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

Her words are like a knife stabbing my heart, making it bleed out. “I am your friend, Lola.”

“It doesn’t matter now. I handed over all the evidence I had, and it’s with the police. They told me it would be difficult, maybe impossible to prove that it wasn’t me transferring the money.” Shaking her head back and forth her voice drops to a whisper. “I felt so stupid today when the police told me that they think it’s likely Graham struck when I was at my most vulnerable, which is something they said scammers do. They prey on susceptible victims, like me.” She points at herself, as if embarrassed. “It’s so obvious now.”

“Predators, like Graham, or James, whatever the fuck his name is?—”

“It’s James Graham Kennedy,” Lola interjects. “I identified him from the name on my bank transfers to a photo from his criminal record from a DUI when he was nineteen. He didn’t disclose that on his application either. Moving forward, I’m tightening up our employee checks.”

This is fucked up. Poor Lola.

Dropping my voice so it’s much softer now, I say, “Predators like him, from what I’ve read online, know exactly what they’re doing. They are cunning and clever.”

“Until they get caught.”

“Yeah, they slip up, like Graham did. He got caught cheating on you and now everything is unraveling.”

“I don’t care.” Her voice is much stronger now. “Although the police did point out that using his birth name to transfer the money was a rookie mistake.”

“They don’t think he’s done this before?” I ask.

“They don’t,” she confirms. “Dissecting each transaction with the police took hours this afternoon because there were so many. But the one that stood out the most was the ten thousand dollars that went missing from my working account only a few weeks after my father passed away. A month later, I questioned him about it. I remember him telling me it was the money I promised to help with his mom’s medical bills. He even told me I did the transaction, which I didn’t. He made out that I was confused and in mourning for my father and needed to lie down. Which I did. I can’t understand why I believed him. What an ass I’ve been.”

“You’re not an ass.”

“He’s made me look like one. And do you know what, Jordy? To this day I have no recollection of that conversation about the medical bills, and the reason is that it never happened. Graham has been manipulating the truth since the first day he met me.

“And I’ve yet to meet his mom, who needed the money because he said she lived in Mexico. He even asked me if I would pay for her and his sister’s flight for the wedding as well as their outfits, which I agreed to. I’m not sure if they even exist. I’ve been so na?ve and played for a fool. After leaving the police station, I searched the internet for how to spot a scammer and it was all there in black and white. He’d had multiple jobs, lived in several places, made me pay for everything. His stories about where he grew up were never consistent. One time he told me he was born in Connecticut, then another time it changed to Calgary. He maintained it was a slip of the tongue, but I know everything he told me was a lie. Based on the cheap engagement ring he bought, which was more than likely out of a Christmas cracker, it all makes sense now. I’ve been living, breathing, and sleeping under the same roof as a con man. I’m so relieved I made a lucky escape.”

As am I.

“I still have your ring,” I inform her.

“No, you don’t. I fished it out the pocket of the jacket you had on last night and put it in the trash,” she mutters. “I hope you don’t mind me going into your closet to get it.”

“I don’t.”

“I color-coordinated your clothes when I was in there.” She looks sheepish when she confesses, before she adds, “And your sneakers… as well as your suits.”

My eyes widen in surprise. “Basically, you reorganized my entire closet?”

“It’s my thing. It was a mess; I couldn’t leave it the way it was. It was giving me anxiety.” She sits up, suddenly more animated as if having a lightbulb moment. “Did you know Graham asked me to marry him at an abnormal speed which is a classic scammer move too? Why didn’t I see it?” Her brows dip low, causing a little bump to form between them.

“Because you were grieving and trying to keep your father’s businesses running. You didn’t have the capacity to think there was anything wrong,” I state.

“I left him in our family home alone with my dad sometimes when he was alive.” She wraps her hands around her neck and her voice drifts off into a whisper as if she’s struggling to get the words out. “The thought of him wandering freely through my family home makes me feel sick. He probably went through my father’s office, which means he knew my net worth. It’s millions. God, I shouldn’t be telling you that. Maybe you’re a scammer.”

“I’m not a scammer.” I chuckle, realizing she’s having a little unreasonable breakdown but it’s also super cute. “I have plenty of money. I don’t need anymore.” I wish she would share with me what’s really going on in her life. She told me last night to trust her. How can I not? If Kali does, then I should too.

Wagging her finger at me she agrees. “Good point. I knew that.”

Looking up, it’s like I can hear the cogs spinning in her head until she finally says. “After my father’s third heart attack, which led to him having bypass surgery, I became his full-time caregiver until we lost him due to an infection. Within a week of him dying, Graham convinced me to sell the house, and it’s so obvious now why. It was all to get my money into the bank, so he could take it all for himself.” She covers her face with her hands and her words become muffled. “It’s no wonder he was annoyed with me for wanting to wait a few years to get married. He was desperate to get his greedy paws on my inheritance. Being an only child, I was a prime target for him. I inherited everything, and when we got married, he would have free access because I wasn’t planning on a prenup. Didn’t think I needed one.”

“Lola.” I remove her hands from her face. “I will keep telling you until you finally hear me… this is not your fault.”

For Lola’s sake, I hope she gets justice and I’m praying Graham gets everything he deserves, which is hopefully a prison sentence if she can prove it wasn’t her.

“I feel like a total joke, Jordy.” Avoiding me, she stares at her fingers in her lap.

“Look at me.”

When she finally does, I see the hurt written all over her face. “I think you need to look at this from a different perspective because had you not caught him with Nicole yesterday, you wouldn’t have been moving out of your apartment at the same time as the mailman arrived. It was serendipitous timing.”

“That’s true. I stopped him from taking everything.” Speaking more firmly now, she sounds more like the Lola I know.

“You caught him.” I bop the end of her nose.

“I did.” She nods with an air of confidence.

“You’re in control now, Lola. You’re not a joke, you’re a badass.” And when she’s on form, she’s a force of nature and I’m going to help her see how fierce and bold she is again.

“I am. Was?” She questions her status.

“You are. And you’ve kicked Wade’s ass into shape.”

“I have.”

“This is just a blip and I’ll be there to help you get over it.”

“By having lots of sex with me?” she asks while her beautiful, tired from crying, glossy eyes, that are perkier than before, sparkle with desire.

“That’s the plan,” I confirm with a laugh.

“I like that plan.”

As do I.

“You’re safe with me, Lola. I would never do anything to hurt you. I hope you know that.”

“I know who you are, Mr. Jordan Benjamin Miller.”

I raise my eyebrow at her knowing my middle name.

She confesses, “I got your middle name from Wikipedia. Studied every player’s stats before I started working for the Eagles.”

“Ah.” Nothing is sacred anymore.

“We’re the same age,” she says.

“Twenty-four and still figuring it out as we go.”

“Still young enough to be bold and brave and do whatever the hell we want.” Her chest widens as if confidence is filling her up. She’ll bounce back from the Graham thing. I know she will.

I look around, my gaze landing on the painting I started and finished in record time this afternoon. This is what I want to do when I retire. Painting for the rest of my life sounds… peaceful.

“What are you doing in here?” I ask. My studio is messy, smells chemically, and could do with a clear out.

“I took myself on a guided tour.”

“Was this the last stop on the tour?”

“It was the best part.” Yawning she stretches her hands above her head. “You paint?”

“I do,” I confirm with a nod.

“You painted every canvas in your house, didn’t you?”

I love that she figured that out. “Yeah,” I confirm.

“You’re so talented, Jordy. That one is beautiful.” She points at the painting on the easel, transitioning from sad and sleepy, she’s now fully awake, and flips back the blanket she pulled off the back of the chaise to keep her warm during her power nap.

Placing her feet on the concrete flooring that was specifically poured to allow me to make as much mess as I want when I paint, I hold my hand out for her.

She takes it and stands.

“Do you like it?” I ask, walking us over to the painting.

Stopping in front of it, I study her side profile as she analyzes the cityscape I want to paint an entire collection of.

“I love the inky blue you used for the dusky sky, and that burnt orange you’ve used to capture the sunset is breathtaking, Jordy.” She leans closer to get a better look. “The cars, skyscrapers, pedestrians, and the streets below don’t dominate the painting because you balanced it out by making the streetlights look like they are sparkling.” Stepping back to assess my work, she blows my chest wide open with her next words. “It’s alive with color and movement. Dynamic.” She sighs. “I love this painting but the abstract flower above your bed is my favorite.”

Her admiration feels like the lights on my canvas, as if her love for my art breathes life into each stroke. While Sienna always passed off my art as a hobby, Lola sees me, like, really sees me and it makes my blood whizz around my veins, making my heart beat faster. I pull her into my side and drop a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling her shampoo. She smells like bananas and coconut. Heaven.

“That one is my favorite too.” The first painting in a collection is always special.

She arches her neck back to look up at me. “Thank you for showing me your paintings.”

“You gave me no choice. You sort of let yourself in.”

“You gave me a keycard.” She pokes my ribs, making me flinch.

“That was before I knew you were a nosey Nancy.” Hungry to taste her again, I bow my head and kiss her. Not slow and not fast, I explore her lips, enjoying the sweet flavor of her lip balm.

“You taste like pineapple.” And a day spent on Malibu beach. I could easily melt into her.

She smiles against my lips and I move my mouth over hers while I slide my hands up her back to her neck, pulling her closer to deepen our connection.

“You look very handsome in a suit,” she mumbles.

It’s compulsory to wear one before and after a game. Appearance is everything in the NHL.

Nibbling at my lips, she grabs my tie and wraps it around her hand. “But I can’t wait to get you out of it.”

My skin prickles with pleasure. She’s sweetly intoxicating, and I love her telling me what she wants. “That so?”

She hums her agreement.

“Put your arms around my neck,” I instruct.

When she does, I lift her, cupping her yoga pant-covered ass, forcing her to wrap her legs around my waist, which makes her moan when her pussy rubs against my body. Much shorter than me, it’s just easier this way to kiss her and not hurt her neck or back. To be honest, I love being this close to her and to have her in my arms again.

I want to help her forget her shitty day, stop her from overthinking, and fuck her to sleep to help her brain switch off and reset it to face tomorrow in a new light because, fucking hell, today has been a lot for her. It’s been a lot for me to digest and I’m not the one it happened to. I’m going to speak to my mom first thing tomorrow to help hire the best lawyer in the city for Lola.

Peeking over her shoulder, I open one eye for a beat and close it again, trusting my instincts to navigate me around my house and walk us out of the studio and down the hall. I keep kissing her, licking and tasting her, my dick growing harder with every step. Her little moans get louder, our tongues swirling together in a clatter of teeth and desperate pants.

It surprises me how quickly our kisses go from slow and tender to passionate and greedy.

I groan into her mouth, peeking through slitted eyes as I sit her on the edge of the dining table.

“We should eat first,” Lola pants between our kisses.

“Sounds perfect. Your pussy tastes delicious. I’ve been thinking about eating you out again since breakfast.” I hook my fingers into the waistband of her pants to pull them off.

“Shit, we shouldn’t be here.” A feminine, shocked, whispered voice, that sounds a lot like one of my sisters, comes from the direction of the kitchen making me snap my head around to find my twin sisters standing watching us.

“I need to clean my ears out after hearing that,” Lucia whispers at the same time Lola lets out a little shriek. Slapping her hands to her face so as not to be identified, I don’t tell Lola it’s too late for that.

We’ve been caught.