Page 9 of These Wicked Games (Wicked Sins #1)

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Andre

C hrist, my jaw fuckin’ hurts.

While I may feel the aftereffects of Oli’s punches, I hold some satisfaction watching him limp away toward that cop car.

What the fuck were they even doing here at Ruby’s?

This place is more known to locals. On the outside it looks like a shithole, which is kind of what I like about it. Keeps the snobs away.

I walk up to the wooden porch under the tin awning that’s definitely seen better days.

I’m just waiting for it to fall clean off the roof.

The name Ruby’s is above on a sign that looks like the sun is slowly eating away at the paint.

The windows are boarded up, and the door looks as if it’ll fall off with one stiff breeze.

This old bar used to be owned by Ruby May Wilder, the sweetest woman you could ever meet.

She bought it back in the seventies and it was hers until she passed away a few years back, then her granddaughter Vanessa took it over.

Stepping inside, I look around, then relax, relieved when I don’t see Kuli and Co.

anymore. What more could they want? They fucking won tonight.

I’ve played Oli dozens of times over the last few years and it’s always more of the same.

The fans think we have some silly rivalry, but they don’t truly understand how much we hate each other.

Or rather, how much he hates me.

Fuck him, truly. From the bottom of my heart he can go fuck himself.

At first I was hurt by his accusations, then pissed.

How fucking dare he think I’d do something like that.

He was my best friend, and if he thinks I was capable of something as sinister as switching our cups way back on the Titans then fuck him.

None of that even makes sense. How could I have just switched the labels?

I know Oli was going through a lot back then, but still.

To blame me for something like that is too much.

I tried to make it right, I tried to get him retested, but my father and our team doctor would have none of it. No one listened to me, especially Oli. I tried, though, but the thorns of his hatred burrowed too deep into his skin. He believed the absolute worst of me and nothing will change that.

I make my way through the bar. Booths line the walls and there are various tables here and there. There’s a place to dance, three pool tables, and a jukebox that causes fights nightly. It’s home sweet home and the only safe place I have left.

I spot Vanessa wiping down glasses, and her eyes catch mine as I approach the bar. It’s quiet now, nearing one in the morning. The only people hanging around are the people who dread going home.

Like me .

Shaking her head, she grabs a shot, filling it with clear liquid and sliding it over the oak bartop. “Thanks.” I take it gratefully, letting the burn at the back of my throat make me feel something. I came here tonight to numb myself as best I can before I have to go home.

“Anything you want to say to me?” Her manicured brow arches.

Vanessa is a beautiful woman in her late thirties, with rich brown skin and the warmest smile you’ve ever seen.

She’s slim, with soft features and beautiful big brown eyes.

Tonight her hair is slicked back in a ponytail that accentuates her sharp cheekbones.

She looks delicate—she’s anything but. I guess you have to have a spine of steel to own a place like this.

The smell of her vanilla perfume breaks through the scent of stale beer and smoke.

“I’m sorry, Vee.” I wasn’t even planning on going near him, but his fucking eyes wouldn’t leave me the second he walked in.

There’s this pull to him that makes me punchy when I see him.

It’s like there’s this black thread of doom connecting us, slowly wearing away my common sense.

I can’t shake the rage that consumes me when he’s nearby.

“Boys will be boys, or whatever the stupid saying is to keep men from being held accountable.” She sighs. “Why don’t you stay with me tonight?” I think about the offer and give her a grateful smile, shaking my head.

“It’ll only delay the inevitable.” She looks away and I try not to let the hard set of her jaw hurt me. I know she wants to do more but can’t. What could she even do? If I can’t do anything at my age, there’s nothing anyone else can do. “It’s fine, Vee.”

“It’s not fine,” she snaps. I feel regret of the highest order.

I shouldn’t have burdened her with my secret.

She’s the only person who knows about what I deal with—well, except my mother who unfortunately isn’t this side of the dirt to back me up.

This is what I get, though, for getting way too chatty after too many drinks.

“That fucking bastard is going to keep winning, Andre. He’s being inducted in next—”

“I know!” I swallow thickly, sliding the shot glass back to her with a pleading look. “One more?”

“Drinking isn’t going to help.”

No, but it will make his hits less painful . “It wasn’t that bad a game, right?” I hedge. It’s false reassurance, I know. If we don’t win, it’s a shit game in my father’s eyes. He acts like he’s never lost a game. He acts like he knows the first fucking thing about being a goalie.

She shakes her head, pouring me another shot. “You played great. The Otters are just really good.” I roll my eyes and ignore the kick of a smile on her face. “So is that all pure hatred or sexual tension I witnessed?” I nearly throw up the contents of my stomach.

My entire hockey career has been spent in the shadow of Oliver “Kuli” Kulivov. The golden boy of hockey. Self-made dickhead. Oli’s name has been yelled at me since he got signed onto the Titans. He’s a natural—a fact my father will not let me forget.

And he used to be my best friend.

Despite the comparison, we got super close, and he’s one of the reasons why I chose to be a goalie.

I’d assumed I’d get less comparison because Oli’s was center, but nope.

Then it became about how many shots I blocked, how many goals Oli scored on me, until he was placed into a substance abuse program.

I still don’t understand what happened that day.

I handed those samples to Dr. Wexel. He thanked me.

Mine came back negative, which shocked me.

While I had smoked weed with this guy I’d been hooking up with, I’d tried everything I could to dilute the drugs in my system as much as I could.

I still expected to fail, though, and you know, I was fine with that.

What I wasn’t expecting was for Oli to fail.

It still doesn’t make sense. What makes even less sense is why he thought it was me. I still don’t understand why that was his assumption, but fuck him anyway. “I want to beat his fucking face in.”

“Uh-huh, beat something maybe.” She smirks, and maybe if the alcohol in my blood wasn’t dulling my reactions and irritation, I’d flip her off. Probably not, though. She’d break my finger. “That man’s eyes were locked and loaded the second they saw you.”

“Not my type. I like my men soft and submissive.” Okay, huge fucking lie, but there’s no way I’m admitting to Vanessa that I like to be roughed up during sex.

Not a conversation we’re having. Not like there’s been much of that recently, though.

I’d thought coming here I could try and find some fun before I had to go home and face the asshole I live with.

“Whatever you say, Andre,” she teases, wiping down the bar. All the glass is now picked up and thankfully the table isn’t broken.

“Do you need any money for damages?”

She waves me off. “Kuli gave me a couple hundred. Just some broken dishware. Nothing major.” She stops wiping the bar and puts her elbows on it to look at me. Fuck, I hate these looks. Mom looks, that’s what they are. She’s got two kids at home and I can imagine her giving them this exact look.

“Stop it.”

“What?” She blinks her thick lashes .

“You know what.”

“Andre—”

“Just let me sit here, okay? I’ll go home in a few.”

She sighs. “You don’t have to live like this. You have people, you have me.”

“What I have is a famous father who everyone admires and loves. They aren’t going to believe me, Vee. They won’t.” All it would do is cause a bigger shitstorm, and I am not strong enough to handle that. I’m nearing thirty but he still controls every bit of me, and I don’t know why.

I’m tired. So fucking tired.

She looks like she wants to fight but thankfully let’s it go.

Times like these I really wish I hadn’t told her.

I know how it weighs on her. It’s not in her nature to just sit back and watch bullshit happen.

It was selfish of me, but I’d just had to tell someone.

She’s a fighter, and unfortunately, I have no fight left in me.

Not when it comes to him.

At twenty-seven, and being extremely rich, you’d think I’d live by myself.

Nope. He’d never allow that. Thankfully I have access to my bank account, but unfortunately so does he, and he monitors my spending.

I’m not sure why he feels the need to do it.

He has plenty of money himself. It’s just one more way to control me, I guess .