Page 36 of The Girlfriend Card (Vegas Sin #4)

The Nepo Baby Affair

Dakota

Three months later.

I tip-toed into the bedroom and gently shook Ottavia’s shoulders. “Coffee’s ready, babe.”

She roused and smiled at me, though she struggled to fully open her eyes, which were still puffy with sleep. “Mmmm. ’Kay. I’ll be out in a few.”

She gave a happy moan when I gave her tush a swat. Like every other day, she curled up tighter in the sheets for a few more minutes of sleep while I headed back into the kitchen.

Over the past few months, we’d settled into a routine: since I was the early riser, I liked to be in charge of breakfast. We always had breakfast and coffee together, which we shared at the kitchen island.

Ottavia, on the other hand, liked to be in charge of dinner.

We both loved sushi, true—but Ottavia is Italian, after all, and she wanted to cook me all her favorite dishes she grew up eating.

From her rich and indulgent bolognese sauce to her crispy and tender Milanese cutlets, every mouthwatering bite was more delicious than the last. And who could forget her velvety carbonara with Pancetta?

Or her creamy polenta? Or her puttanesca, a robust pasta bursting with rich tomatoes, olives, and capers? Or her hearty minestrone soup?

After my grueling workouts with Parker, Ottavia always made sure I came home to a meal that nourished my body and soul.

I told her she didn’t have to do it, but she insisted on it; she said it made her happy to take care of me and feed me when I was working so hard.

I can’t lie; I was incredibly touched. I’d never had a woman care for me like that before.

The kind of girls I’d chased in the past only wanted one thing from me—money.

Then again, I only wanted one thing from them , so I guess that was only fair.

But with Ottavia, it was different. I knew that from the beginning, and it only became more and more evident with every passing day.

I was just happy I could take care of her, in a way, by teaching her to drive.

Ottavia was a solid driver after two months of our daily lessons; so solid, in fact, she passed her exam and obtained her driver’s license last month.

She drove herself to and from work in my Mercedes every single day since.

Ottavia still profusely gives me thanks and tells me how sweet I am for teaching her how to drive.

Honestly, I didn’t understand why she made such a big deal out of it, until she confided in me that she felt like everyone else in her life discouraged her from doing anything that would make her more free or independent.

Hearing her put it in those terms kinda destroyed me a little.

I hated that she felt so trapped by her situation …

on the other hand, I felt honored that I could help her out, even if it was only a little.

I placed a skillet on the stovetop and filled it with bacon while it was still cool—a little tip Ottavia had taught me that resulted in perfectly crunchy but still tender bacon, every single time—and fired the gas flame.

While the skillet began to heat, I glanced at the calendar on the side of the fridge.

There would be no morning workout with Parker today.

Summer had officially come to an end, as today marked the first day of training camp.

I drew a deep breath.

This was what my whole summer was leading up to. It was finally time for me to prove my stuff.

I was a ball of nerves and conflicting emotions: psyched, nervous, happy, distraught. It felt like so much was coming together and so much was ending all at the same time. But I felt ready, confident, and prepared because I was in the best shape of my life.

More importantly, I was in the best shape of my life mentally, too.

Ottavia had helped me see that I wasn’t my dad, would never be my dad, and most importantly—didn’t have to be my dad.

Maybe that sounds stupid—fine, I don’t expect people to understand.

But when you grow up and your dad is a Hall of Fame level talent, and everyone is always comparing you to him, you end up putting a bunch of pressure on yourself, whether you know it or not.

My dad made everything look so easy when he played .

Fact of the matter is, hockey isn’t an easy game for most professionals, me included.

But Ottavia helped me realize I wasn’t letting him or anyone else down by not living up to his standard.

All I had to do—all I could do—was play my best. It might not sound like a big deal, but embracing that idea was incredibly freeing.

Because so what if I never put up sixty points in a year, let alone the hundred-plus points my dad routinely scored in a season?

As long as I was getting the job done on the other end of the ice, I didn’t have to score a ton.

From that realization alone, I felt like I’d had a massive weight taken off my shoulders. It changed the way I carried myself, how I thought about myself. I even started sleeping better.

And I don’t think I could’ve done it without Ottavia.

Our little fairy tale romance we liked to tell each other was that, as the son and daughter of kings in their own respective fields, we were the only two people in the world who could possibly understand each other.

We liked to laugh about it, but there was still a kernel of truth to it.

And it was truly beginning to feel like we were made for each other.

Which is why it was so confusing that the road ahead of us should seem so murky, so cloudy, so unknown.

I didn’t know what the future had in store for us. All I knew was that I’d completely fallen for her over the past three months. I loved the time we’d shared, the space we’d made for each other in our lives …

I didn’t want to lose her. But life was going to take us in two different directions, whether we liked it or not.

We knew there was a very good chance that I could get traded to any team in the league any day now.

Even if I didn’t get traded? Ottavia’s summer break ended in just two days.

She was heading up to Stanford for her senior year.

But we’d talked about it. And whatever we were, we wanted to stay together. We knew we had to break the news to Sal. We just didn’t know how we were going to do it or what it would look like.

The bacon began to sizzle, its rich and smoky aroma filling the air. It was only a minute or two later that I heard the soft patter of bare feet coming down the hallway.

I snickered. “The bacon gets you up every time, huh?”

“Can you blame a girl?” she asked as she slid into her chair at the island. “So today’s the big day, huh?”

“The beginning of it, anyway,” I said.

Truth was, the real work only started today—training camp was several weeks long.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good,” I said with a determined nod. “I’m ready. As far as I see it? My job is to go out there, prove my worth, and make it as hard as possible for them to trade me.”

“You’re going to kill it, Dakota.” She slipped out of her chair and hugged me from behind, the softness of her breasts comforting against my back. “You’ve been working so hard.”

“Thanks.” I turned around and wrapped my arms around her. “But even if I do kill it … there’s a good chance they still trade me.”

I’d left a question unsaid, but Ottavia answered it anyway.

“I know that. But it doesn’t matter to me where you play, Dakota,” she said, staring into my eyes. “I trust you. And as long as you don’t do anything to break that trust …”

This time, she’d left a question unsaid.

“Never, Ottavia,” I said.

“Then we’ll be fine.” She grinned. “Now where’s that coffee I was promised?”

“Whoops! Sorry.” I grabbed her favorite mug and filled it with coffee and made it the way she likes it—with a dash of sugar and a splash of milk.

“You’re the best. She winked, gave me a peck on the cheek, and returned to her spot at the island.

I got back to work on breakfast, cracking eggs into the skillet. Ottavia went silent as she read the morning news on her iPad, something she does every morning while she sips her coffee.

A few minutes later, I killed the stovetop flame and plated our breakfast. Right before I sat to eat, though, a sharp gasp suddenly escaped Ottavia’s lips.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, hastily turning to her. I was instantly worried because it was the kind of gasp that made your heart sink with the knowledge that something terrible had happened.

“Oh no, ” she uttered with a mixture of fear and disbelief.

“What is it, Ottavia?”

“How could this even happen?” she asked, her voice full of worry as she slowly spun the iPad around.

The browser was loaded on some kind of news or gossip site. The headline read:

THE NEPO BABY AFFAIR:

Inside the Scandalous Affair of Billionaire Hotel Heiress, Ottavia Capuano, and Hockey’s Playboy Prince, Dakota Easton

“What the fuck?” I murmured, my heart rocking against my ribs. “What’s a nepo baby?”

“It means nepotism baby,” she answered. “And that’s us.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I grumbled. “How could this even happen?”

“I don’t know …” Ottavia said, her voice strained. “But look, they even have pictures. Someone’s been following us.”

She swiped at the screen, and I felt sick to my stomach as candid photos of us rolled past.

“Looks like they’ve been following us for months,” I said. “What does the article say?”

“Let me see.” She quietly read for a moment or two before stopping. “I can’t even read this. It’s super trashy. Like, tabloid level, almost.” She pushed the iPad away and poked at her over-easy eggs instead. “Here. You can read it if you want.”

I picked up the tablet and began to read aloud. “ ‘In an audacious display of entitlement and privilege, hotel heiress Ottavia Capuano and hockey’s enfant terrible , Dakota Easton, are embroiled in a scandalous affair that is sending shockwaves through the city’s social circles.’ ”

“Boy, we’re off to a great start,” I grumbled sarcastically.