Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Who knew that people would pay such big money to have a few hours of one-on-one time with their hockey heroes? Granted, only the wealthy can afford to pay two thousand dollars for a private dinner, although I purchased five plates myself and gave them to fans who wouldn’t ordinarily have a chance to attend such an event.
Held in the dramatic foyer of the Carnegie Music Hall, the event exudes elegance. Capable of serving up to five hundred for special dinners, it’s a feast for the eyes with its fifty-foot ceilings supported by massive marble pillars and three-tiered chandeliers dripping with crystals. The ornate baroque décor could never be considered over-the-top for the amount of money flowing through here tonight.
It’s a formal, black-tie gathering, and I chose an ivory Valentino strapless gown. The bodice has a boned corset that will keep my posture honest and folds in soft vertical pleats from my lower back to the floor. It’s made of silk, and the skirt is so light and soft, it floats outward when I walk.
At the entry to Carnegie Music Hall, a backdrop for pictures has been set up. I’m so used to these events over the years, I don’t hesitate to put one hand on my hip while the other hangs loose and relaxed at my side, holding a crystal-studded clutch just large enough for my cell phone, lipstick, and a credit card.
“There you are,” Sandy Creighton croons as I enter the large foyer. She truly went all out. I take in the spread of small tables set with flowers, fine china, and crystal, each with only two settings so every donor gets an intimate dinner with a hockey player. A four-piece string ensemble plays at one end of the hall, although the event hasn’t commenced yet. Another fifteen minutes and the guests will start arriving.
“How are you feeling?” I ask as she leans in and gives me an air kiss on each cheek.
“Much better.” She loops her arm around mine and walks me through the hall. “Just a little bug, but I’m good now. The reason I wanted to have lunch with you was to inquire if Norcross Holdings would perhaps do a matching donation to the funds raised.”
Just like I called it. I knew the request was coming, and I’m prepared to answer. Most would think, given the billions my companies generate, I wouldn’t have any problem with tossing out a match to whatever is raised tonight. But I’m not able to make charitable donations whenever I want. Norcross Holdings donates millions each year, but that’s handled by a charitable board, and there is a vetting process.
Still, this was Adam’s baby, and I came prepared to make it a true success. “I can’t pledge a company donation of that size without board approval, Sandy, but I’m personally prepared to donate double the amount raised. Tell me the final number, and I’ll get a check over to you.”
Sandy beams and hugs me, throwing out effusive gratitude. We then move through the space to check last-minute details with the caterers, bartenders, and waitstaff. I stop and talk with other board members who’ve arrived early, which includes a quick hello to Clay who’s also on the charity’s board. I’m happy he brought a date—I only want what’s best for him.
The doors open, and donors and hockey players stream in. Attendance at this wasn’t mandatory, but from what Callum told me, almost every player committed. I didn’t ask who hadn’t because I’m pretty sure Drake’s name would be on the list. His boys are arriving tomorrow, and I know he’s got things to do to prepare for them.
At least that’s what he told me last night when he left. I didn’t invite him to stay the night, and he didn’t offer, but we spent a few hours on the outdoor sofa where he did, indeed, fuck me twice. It got chilly, but we fetched blankets from the pool house, and while Drake recovered for round two, we laid on our backs and watched the stars. He talked a lot about his kids and sister, his excitement over their imminent arrival palpable.
I spy Jenna and Gage as they float in. Gage is actually sharing a meal with a donor, and Jenna will dine with me at one of the larger tables set for board members. They walk in my direction, and I can’t help but be moved by how stunning and confident Jenna is. She’s wearing a sapphire-blue gown with a deep V-cut and spaghetti straps. Her hair is piled in loose curls on her head, and her scars are visible to all who lay eyes on her.
While some of it has to do with the hot hockey god beside her—player turned coach—she’s mostly walking with swagger tonight because she’s learned to accept herself as she is. Her metamorphosis has been incredible to witness, and I’m so proud of her.