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TWENTY-ONE

Beck

“ H e’s a venture capitalist and private equity investor. To turn the companies around or build them—whatever the case is—he keeps the marketing in-house. That’s where I come in.”

As I stared at Jolie in our locker room, I remembered the conversation we’d had about her father, a man whose name I didn’t know until now.

At that time, I’d been interested in what he did for a living and her role in his company, given that I personally backed many of The Weston Group projects and considered myself a bit of a private equity investor.

But never had I thought the Whales would sell or that Mark would become the new owner of the team.

Or that his daughter—a woman I’d become fucking obsessed with—would be our head of marketing.

Head, manager, controller—whatever her title was, it was just a word. The reality was that she was Mark’s daughter, which automatically made her an owner as well.

And that meant …

Jolie had just become my fucking boss.

A point continuously driven into my brain while I fixated on her.

As she spoke, she was charming the boys with her warm, lovable personality, promising things we didn’t know we wanted or needed, mesmerizing them with her looks.

There wasn’t a limp dick in this whole fucking room—I’d bet thousands on it.

I glanced around at the faces of each of my teammates, annoyed as hell that their eyes were on her.

That they were listening to her.

That they were watching her.

I knew this was irrational.

I also knew there was nothing I could do to change the way I felt.

“My office is upstairs.”

“I’ll be traveling with you.”

“It’s my face you’ll see—on the plane, at games, at practices—everywhere and anywhere.”

What the fuck was even happening right now?

Was this some kind of sick joke?

Jesus.

I couldn’t listen to another word.

I needed a time-out.

A drink.

To be in a room that she wasn’t filling in some way.

My eyes closed.

My chin lifted.

And I groaned out the loudest roar of anger as the rest of the team applauded Jolie.

I had questions.

Hundreds of them.

I didn’t even know where to fucking begin with any of this shit.

But I knew, after her message at two this morning, that she wanted to talk.

Of course she did. She needed to clean up the pieces after dropping this goddamn bomb on me.

But why hadn’t she called me this morning to tell me before practice? Why hadn’t she given me some kind of heads-up or warning before she and her father walked in here and unloaded this beast of information?

And why hadn’t she mentioned this before I brought her home, before I fucked her without a condom, and before she came all over my tongue?

My chin dropped, and as soon as my stare moved straight, it locked with hers.

Jolie, why do you have to be so gorgeous?

But etched across that beautiful face was a war of emotions. I could see it in her eyes. In the tightness of her lips. In the furrow between her brows.

She was getting a piece of what I’d been going through since she had left my place on Saturday morning. Up until now, I’d had no idea what was going on with her. And starting now, she had absolutely no idea what was running through my head.

How does it fucking feel?

Regardless, this was a goddamn disaster.

I had seen what I needed—and I’d seen enough.

My gaze moved to Mark as he said, “If there’s anything you need from us, let us know.” His auburn comb-over with even redder eyebrows told me he was who she’d gotten her hair color from. “Take care of yourselves. Rest up. We’ll see you all at practice tomorrow.”

He held out his arm, allowing Jolie to walk out first, and the two of them left the locker room.

“Dude”—Landon slapped my arm—“I might be so off here, but that chick looked just like Jolie. They even have similar names.”

I slowly faced my goalie. Whose ass I’d accidentally tried to pummel with pucks from being so worked up over her. “That was Jolie.”

Landon’s eyes couldn’t possibly get any bigger. “You mean to tell me that was the three-night stand from Boston?—”

“Yes.” Both hands dived into the sides of my hair. “I ran into her the other night at Musik.”

“Holy fucking shit.”

“But I didn’t know any of this.” I took the towel off my shoulders and wrapped it around my wrist. “She spent the night at my place and said nothing. I just found out about her new position when you did.” I was keeping my voice down so none of my teammates could hear. “And I’m fucking?—”

“Damn, that fucking redhead. I’m calling dibs right now,” my right wing said, his voice cutting me off as he shouted his comment across the room.

It had taken less than a minute for the shit talking to start—no surprise there. My team was a bunch of horny bastards.

“Fuck that, she’s going to be mine,” someone else said. “I’ll have her begging for my dick in no time.”

I tried to search for the second voice, but many of the guys were huddled in the center, where Jolie and Mark had been standing.

“I give her a week before she’s spreading her legs for me,” a third voice said.

“Did you see those legs?” one of my defensemen said, standing to join the group. “I’d like to have them wrapped around my face.”

I turned toward Landon. “I’m going to fucking lose it.”

“On who?” he asked.

“On every goddamn person in this room.” I unwrapped the towel from my wrist, and I aimed it toward the huddle and tossed it like a football. “Enough!” I shouted at them.

Several of them looked over.

“She’s the owner’s daughter. Your dicks aren’t getting anywhere near her.”

“So, you’re saying your dick is?” my backup goalie asked with a smile.

I flipped him off. “Get in the fucking shower and stop gossiping.” I turned toward my locker and reached into my bag. My cell was on top, and the second the screen lit up, there was a message from Jolie.

Jolie

I’ll be over at 7:00 p.m. unless you tell me otherwise.

The message had been sent about twenty minutes ago, when I was still in practice. She had known she was going to come in here, she had known I was going to lose my shit, and she had known I would see this as soon as I was calm enough to look at my phone.

I tossed the phone back in my bag and began getting dressed.

“You’re not going to shower?” Landon asked.

“With those fools? So I can hear them talk about her more? Shit no. I’m getting the hell out of here before I murder one of them.”