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)
But professionalism takes over. “Are you flirting with me, Drake? Because it would be considered improper.”
I shake my head and lean toward her. Dropping my tone, I give her the honest truth. “I don’t flirt. I fuck, and that’s it.”
Brienne gasps, not in horror or shock, but more like a tiny exhale of lust as her cobalt eyes darken.
I take advantage of the shock. “Boy toys flirt. That’s not me.”
“And why do I need to know the difference?” she asks. I’m pleased her voice is huskier than usual.
My lips curve in a wicked grin. “In case you want proof of what I’m saying.”
I watch in fascination as her eyes go from sizzling in contemplation to icing back over to the multibillionaire owner of an empire. “Not interested.” Her tone is bland… dispassionate as she glances over her guests.
“Oh, you’re interested,” I say knowingly, and her eyes fly back to me.
I’m most certainly flirting now.
Not with Brienne but with danger, because I’m quite sure I’m violating about a dozen sexual harassment rules.
And still… zero fucks given.
Any good psychologist would tell you I’m smacking back at the establishment that betrayed me. I’m lashing out and testing my limits. I might even be punishing the league, and she’s merely a representative of it.
You could probably say I’ve got residual issues, and I guess I’m taking them out on Brienne.
Not that I’m trying to hurt her because this woman, with her balls of brass and spine of steel, wouldn’t be hurt or offended by my assholery. She’s too strong for that.
To my surprise, Brienne’s teeth sink into her lower lip, as if she’s considering something about me. I half expect her to slap me or at the very least, lay into me for my audacity.
Instead, she seems pensive.
Almost wistful, and it causes a tightening in my groin that baffles the fuck out of me.
But she does nothing more than tip her head with a polite smile. “It was good seeing you, Drake. I expect great things from you out on the ice.”
She turns on those sexy-as-fuck heels and walks away without a second glance.
I take a moment, study the curves of her ass, and tell myself I’m not just messing with fire, I’m messing with dynamite.
And yeah, I think to myself, I have less than zero fucks to give about the danger that presents.
CHAPTER 3
Drake
The team meeting room is called The Bowl because it’s shaped like one. Its center is circular, covered in dark, polished wood, and sits at basement level. It’s the same level as the locker room, coaches’ offices, therapy rooms, and the players’ lounge. It’s also the same level as the ice.
From the center of the room, rows of seating rise upward and outward. Five rings of seating split by three staircases. Surrounding the highest row is a walkway and railing, and on the walls are eighty-inch TVs spaced roughly ten feet apart around the entire circumference for us to watch game film.
I enter from the basement level, lifting my chin Baden’s way. He’s sitting in the front row with our new head coach, Cannon West, as well as our newest assistant coach, Gage Heyward. Gage transitioned from player to coaching staff this season, and I think it’s a ballsy move. Frankly, he played so well last season, I’d have tried to keep him on the ice for one more year, but I learned at the party last night he was just done with it.
If anyone knows what it’s like to just feel “done” with something, it’s me, so I respect his path. In addition to Gage, the team has two associate coaches, Sam Thatcher and Maurice Dupont. I met both last night, and they seem cool, but you never know until you get out there. I do know that Cannon West will be good for this group. He’s pretty young to be given a head coaching position for a professional team, but he’s apparently got a talent for connecting with people that can’t be ignored. At least that’s what Gage said last night.
Glancing around, I spot Coen Highsmith and Stone Dumelin sitting together. I met Stone last night, but Coen had already left by the time I’d arrived. We’ve met a few times over the years at games and such. I did watch with interest as he publicly fell apart this past season, and I’m equally interested to see if he’s gotten his shit together. He’s a skilled player and will be essential to this team’s success.
Sitting with Coen and Stone are three more players I met last night. All were down in the minors prior to the crash, so I don’t know them at all, but I do remember names.
Boone Rivers is a talented center who moved up to take Coen’s position last season after Coen’s suspension. Boone played incredibly well, so we’ll wait and see if those two will battle it out for that spot on the first line. The other two are the first-line defensemen, Kirill Zucker and Nolan Carrier.