“I can’t give up control,” I told him, ignoring all the screaming going on in my head. “I don’t know why.” I took another sip of wine. “But for you, I might try.”
He looked at me, his eyes turning a light blue, and I swear if he looked at me like that all the time, I might do whatever he wants me to. “I’ll catch you,” he told me, and then the waitress came by, and for the rest of the meal, we tiptoed around whatever that moment was. We both wanted to talk about what just happened, but we were afraid to have the words out there in the universe. He paid the bill, and when we walked out, our hands grazed each other’s. He didn’t reach for my hand, and it bothered me. I could have grabbed his, but I was hanging on by a string. I had never been in this type of situation, and I had no idea what the rules of the game were. I don’t think he knew, either.
When he pulled up to my building, I looked over at him, taking off my seat belt. “Thank you, Nico,” I said and then smirked. “It’s no Italy, but it was almost like I was there.”
He laughed, and I thought he was going to lean over and kiss me. I had hoped he would, but instead, he just looked at me. “One day, Becca,” he said, and before I could even say anything, the doorman had opened the door. I walked into my building without looking back. But I felt eyes on me, and when I stood in front of the elevator doors, I saw him from the corner of my eyes. He was standing next to his SUV as he watched me. I turned for just a second before stepping onto the elevator, and it was the last thing I saw.
“We’re still here.” I hear Francis say, and I shake my head, looking at myself in the mirror, my cheeks just a touch flushed. I wet my hand with cold water and place my palms on them to cool down. I take one more look at myself before unlocking the door.
I walk out with my head held high and my shoulders back. “What is with you two?” I say, trying to avoid their eyes. “Don’t you have work to do?” I don’t want them to see how affected I was by the flowers. I put on my poker face right before I turn to them.
“Oh, trust me, I have work to do,” Trevor says to me, “but this is a little bit …” He holds his hands out as he thinks of what to say.
“More entertaining,” Francis says, going to one of my empty chairs in front of my desk and sitting down. “So …”
“So, what?” I say, sitting down. I pick up the notes in front of me and put them in my top drawer. Then I get back up and smell the flowers. Grabbing one vase, I walk over to the table in the corner and put it in the middle. “I helped a friend.”
“You helped a friend, and he sends you fifty roses?” Francis tilts his head to the side, and from his tone, it’s more like yeah, right.
“Is this who I think it is?” Trevor asks. He’s always the one who does the thinking between the two of them. Whereas Francis is I’m jumping off the roof, Trevor is going to list the reasons he shouldn’t. Even though Francis is older, Trevor usually has the better sense.
“I did a favor for Nico, and well, he thanked me by sending me flowers.”
It’s not exactly a lie.
“Nico … Nico …” Trevor asks, saying his name twice, and I roll my eyes. “The Nico who owns the Dallas Oilers?”
“There isn’t another Nico we both know.” I cross my legs, putting my shoulders back, making me sit up straight.“I don’t understand all the questions.”
“It’s a bad fucking idea,” Trevor says, and I look over at him.
“What exactly is a bad idea?” I’m annoyed because I’m not ready to have this conversation with anyone. It’s enough that my head is telling me what a bad idea this is. I don’t need to hear it out loud.
“You and Nico,” Trevor says, and I look at Francis to see what he has to say, but all he does is look over at Trevor. “It’s the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
“Nothing is going on.” I put my hands up. “He needed a player, and I helped him acquire one. It was a win-win for everyone.” They both just stare at me. “And then we had the whole Manning situation and …”
“And we have a policy,” Francis says. “The don’t shit where you eat policy.”
“I am not shitting nor eating anywhere.” I point at him. “And you are not exactly the person who should be telling me the rules. You were having an affair with your client’s wife.”
“Girlfriend,” he corrects me. “At the time, she was his girlfriend, and they were on a break. Then they got back together and got married.”
“They were on a break.” I roll my eyes. “Please.”
“Listen, we know that you would never do anything to jeopardize what you have achieved.” I swear Trevor’s an old soul. “You are also old enough to know what is right and what is wrong.”
“Nice talk, Dad,” Francis says, getting up. “What dipshit is trying to say is it’s a bad fucking idea,” he says, and I think he’s done, but he isn’t. “A horrible, horrible idea.” He turns and walks out of the office.
Trevor gets up. “We’ll support you with whatever,” he says, walking out of the room, and what was a happy moment turned into so much more doubt than I care to think about. So I don’t. Instead, I bury myself in my work, returning phone calls and making sure that all of Manning’s sponsors hear from me.
“Are you ready?” Francis says, coming into my office, and I stand to grab my jacket. “Are you not going to change into something more comfortable?”
“No,” I say, looking down at my outfit. I’m wearing a fitted one-piece white turtleneck long-sleeved dress with a beige jacket over it. “It’s a hockey game.”
“And I’m going for work,” I say, and he shakes his head.
I walk out with him, and we park in our usual spots, walking into the arena. The phone goes off in my hand, and just as soon as I see who it is, I hear him say my name.
“Becca.” I turn my head, and there he is, the man who has slowly crept into my head.
“Nico.” I say his name, and it’s almost in a whisper.
Chapter 10
Nico
“The press is all over the place,” I say to Lizzie while we walk the halls of the arena. The fans have started coming in, and I look down, and then it’s almost as if my body knows she’s close. I look up and around, and I spot her right away. How could I fucking not?
She looks like sex on a fucking stick. My cock becomes semi-hard just looking at her tight ass from the back. My eyes roam all the way down to her fucking sky-high red bottom heels. Lizzie was right—those shoes scream sex. I’ve never actually noticed fucking shoes before, but with her wearing them, the only thing I can think of is fucking her while she wears them.
“Is that Becca?” I hear Lizzie from beside me. “Only she could pull off that look at a game.”
“Becca.” I call her name as soon as I get close to her, and when she turns, I swear I feel like someone kicked me in the stomach. Not only is her hair perfectly styled but the white dress hugs her every fucking curve. The front of her shoes are white, and the back has a leopard print. But what gets me the most is her red-painted lips that scream to be kissed.