Page 40 of The Girlfriend Card (Vegas Sin #4)

Deal

Dakota

I used to dread the first day of camp, but this year, day one was a breeze. My work with Parker paid off, and I sailed through all the physical assessment tests. What’s more? I did it all with a smug little grin on my face.

Why?

Because now everyone knew it—Ottavia and I were a thing.

The boys were almost afraid to say it out loud, for fear of The Godfather somehow overhearing and bringing his wrath down on them. But whenever one of the guys got me alone, he’d nudge me with his elbow and ask something like, “Dude, is it true?! You and The Godfather’s daughter?”

“Ahh, you know I can’t cop to that,” I’d whisper back with a sparkle in my eye. “But hell yeah, it’s true, bro!”

As far as I was concerned? The battle was already over, and the war won. Sure, that almost guaranteed I’d get traded … but with the way I was going to play this year? I didn’t care. I knew I’d have a spot on any other team in the league.

All Ottavia and I had to do was make it through her senior year of school. Once she got her diploma, she could fly out and join me wherever.

After physical testing concluded, we finally hit the ice.

Battle drills were always my absolute least favorite part of practice—that’s where you go head-to-head with a teammate.

But thanks to Parker getting my strength and conditioning to a God-tier level, I didn’t even break a sweat in battle drills.

I was flying all over the ice, knocking dudes down, and stealing pucks like candy from a baby.

“Fuckin’ hell, Dak,” Brett griped after I dumped him in the corner and roofed the puck to win our battle drill. “It’s day one of camp, bud. Take it easy on us, will ya?”

The others chimed in:

“Yeah, stop making us look bad!”

“If he keeps this up, The Godfather is gonna make us all live like hermits in the summer.”

I chuckled. “A summer of conditioning really ain’t so bad, boys.”

“Yeah … especially when you’re getting all those cardio sessions in on The Godfather’s daughter,” Tank murmured.

The boys choked back laughter, and I held a gloved finger to my lips. “Shhhhhhhhh.”

We ended practice with a scrimmage. Killer threw me over the boards more than anybody else on the team, double-shifting me and playing me on both special teams: penalty kill and power play.

I loved the increased responsibility he was giving me out there—and Killer gave me the best compliment a coach can give a player: he kept throwing me back out on the ice for more.

I felt like I still had more in the tank when Killer’s whistle finally pierced through the air.

“Alright, boys! That’s a wrap!” he yelled, his voice echoing through the empty rink. “Hit the showers.”

My teammates let out a collective sigh, and we marched back to the locker room.

Heads turned and voices murmured as I joined the boys in the shower.

“Holy fuck, Dak.”

I chuckled, stepping under the stream of water. “What’s up, boys?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so chiseled before,” Connor said.

“You jelly, bro?” I teased.

“ Kinda, yeah,” he admitted, laughing.

“You look great, kid.” Rust slapped me on the arm, squeezing and testing my muscles. “But more importantly? You looked great out on the ice.”

“He was absolutely engaged ,” Brock remarked, gushing. “I’ve never seen that level of focus or compete from you before, Dak.”

“Alright, boys. Let’s take it easy.” I chuckled. “It’s just day one of camp. Until the puck actually drops, I haven’t proven shit.”

Rust had trouble containing his grin. “Damn right,” he said, approvingly.

After a quick rinse, I turned off the water. I dried off and tossed my towel aside, marching back to the room buck naked, like always.

“Look at his fuckin’ ass!” Connor yelled, following behind me.

“Even his ass looks jacked!” Brock added, laughing.

Tank, sneaking up on me, took a mighty swing and spanked my rear, a resounding crack ringing out .

“Yow! Dammit, Tank!” I yelped, my ass stinging.

“Hey, how’d that booty feel to the touch, Tank?!” Connor asked, clowning around.

“One word. Pert, ” Tank answered, wiggling his eyebrows. “Really, it’s no fuckin’ wonder The Godfather’s daughter’s has been beggin’ for that cock all summer long. Just look at this stud. Who can blame her?!”

Everybody roared with laughter as we walked back into the dressing room.

“You guys are fucked up, man,” I said, though I laughed, too.

But the laughter immediately died the second we stepped foot into the room and saw who was waiting for us. Waiting for me.

Mr. Capuano stood in the center of the room, his hands on his hips, his gaze burning into me with hatred in his eyes.

Oh fuck.

Killer stood by Mr. Capuano’s side. He did the talking. “Dak, hurry up and get dressed, then meet us in my office, yeah?”

“Sure thing, Coach,” I murmured, my pulse thumping in my ears.

My hair was still wet from the shower, droplets of water trickling down my neck and onto my freshly buttoned-down shirt, as I rode the elevator to Killer’s office.

The boys had wished me luck, but you could read my fate in their dour expressions: I was fucked, and everyone knew it. If I wasn’t fucked before, I was definitely fucked now that Mr. Capuano had heard everyone cracking jokes about me and Ottavia banging.

But whatever. I just wanted to get it over with already.

The elevator let me off, and I made myself to Killer’s office. Before I knocked on the door, I quickly ran my fingers through my damp hair, attempting to tame the unruly locks.

That’s when I heard what sounded like two voices arguing in the office.

I leaned closer and tried to listen.

“… a bag of pucks, at least, Sal …”

“... it’s MY fucking team, and …”

Before someone spotted me eavesdropping, I knocked. Killer answered a moment later.

“You wanted to see me, Coach?” I asked, a loaded question if ever there was one.

He ushered me in. “Have a seat, Dak.”

I entered Killer’s office, the familiar scent of leather in the air.

Mr. Capuano stood nearby, arms folded and his presence imposing.

The tension in the room was palpable as I took my seat across from Killer at his desk.

The creak of the chair as I settled into it was the only sound breaking the heavy silence.

As soon as I sat, Mr. Capuano began to pace restlessly behind me, his presence looming over me like a dark cloud. I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my skull, his disapproval and disappointment drilling into my very being.

Killer, ever the professional, cleared his throat and calmly got down to business as if Mr. Capuano wasn’t suffocating the room with his anger.

“Dak, we need to discuss some recent events,” he said, sounding composed.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“At the beginning of the off-season, we laid out our off-season expectations for you.”

“Yes, Coach. And I hope you can see I took my training this summer seriously. I feel great out there.”

Mr. Capuano’s footsteps grew heavier, wearing into the carpet.

“I speak for the entire coaching staff when I say, we noticed.” Killer struggled with a smile that tried to spread. “We were very happy with your performance out there today, Dak.”

I couldn’t help but grin, too. “Thank you, Coach.”

Mr. Capuano couldn’t hold back his disdain any longer. “Oh, stop sucking the kid off already, Dean,” he groused. “He didn’t fucking do what he said he’d do.”

I didn’t hesitate to defend myself. “Yes, I did. Ask Parker if you don’t believe me. I didn’t miss a single day.”

“Did you have any alcoholic drinks?” Killer asked.

“Not one,” I said proudly.

Killer shot a glance at Mr. Capuano as if to say, Well? What more do you want?

Mr. Capuano neared, his face inches from mine, the overwhelming heat of his body radiating against mine.

“And how about women?” he demanded in a low and intimidating voice. “Did you fuck any women?”

“With all due respect, Mr. Capuano—”

“ My daughter, maybe?! ” Mr. Capuano yelled, smashing his fist on the wooden desk. “Of all the women in this fucking city, you had to fuck my daughter?”

“—with all due respect, sir, it’s no secret that I’ve been dating Ottavia. You knew that months ago when we met for dinner.”

He let out a sharp laugh. “With all due respect to you, kid, you don’t have the slightest clue what I know or don’t know.” His tone suddenly changed, and his friendly smile unnerved me. “But I’m curious, Dakota. Where did you meet Ottavia, anyway?”

“Well. Ah.” I shifted in my seat. “At a bar, I’m pretty sure.”

“Oh yeah? Pretty sure, huh. And when was this, this meeting at a bar, exactly?”

“Oh, something like five or six months ago, I think?”

“ Liar, ” he roared. “You’ve been lying to my face from the beginning and you’re still blowing smoke up my ass.

Don’t you get it yet, dumb fuck? I’m not some clueless moron off the street.

I’m Salvatore Capuano. Your owner.” He jammed his thick finger into my sternum.

“Get that? I own you. I decide your fate. Not him”—he gestured over his shoulder at Killer. “ Me . No one else.”

“Look, I understand you’re mad about me and Ottavia. And I don’t blame you; I’d probably be upset if I were in your shoes, too. But the whole idea at the start of the summer was that I stop partying, sleeping around, and take my training seriously. Which I did. ”

“After lying about it.”

I ignored his accusation. “If our relationship is such a problem for you, then you should go ahead and trade me right now. But I’ll warn you right now—a trade won’t stop me from seeing Ottavia.”

I smirked, figuring I’d bested my owner.

“Trade? Who said anything about a trade?” A menacing grin twisted his features. “I own your contract, son. Why would I trade you? Why would I give up that control over your future?”

My heart sank. “So you’re going to send me to the minors, then?”

He laughed. “No, no. If I had you sent down, you’d still get playing time. And sure, you’d be pissed about it. But you’d still be playing hockey, wouldn’t you? Which means your life would still have meaning. I’d rather make you sit out.”