Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“Let me introduce you to the team,” he says, pointing at the other guys sitting at the table, and I nod my head as he makes the introductions. I listen to them talk and then look over to see if I spot her sitting at her table. I keep looking over, trying to find her, and finally, I do. Smiling, I shake the men’s hands and turn when the door opens. Miller walks in with Ralph behind him.
I stand aside with my hands in my pockets as Andrew introduces them to the guys I just met. I take the time to look over at the table of ten girls. They’re holding up their glasses of champagne now, and they toast what I think is a bride. I mean, she’s wearing a veil and a sash. She sits at the end of the table facing where I am, so I see her laugh now with her head thrown back before she drinks the whole glass. She then snaps her fingers and dances, stopping when the waiters come over to her, and she orders something from him. He smiles at her and then walks away, and I watch him go to the computer. He talks to another waiter and motions to the table with his chin. I know exactly what he’s saying.
“Have you been here long?” Miller says from beside me, and I look over at him.
“A couple of minutes,” I tell him with a shrug. “Did you guys drive here together?” I ask, meaning him and Ralph, and Miller nods his head.
“I dropped off Layla at their house, and I’ll pick her up on the way there.” Miller was the most sought-after NHL star that there was. He was on the cover of GQ, and he had women flock over to him. But he had his sights set on Layla for forever, and when she finally caved and bought a date with him at the charity auction, it was only a matter of time until he made her fall for his charm.
“Would you like something to drink?” I hear the waitress, who must have come in when we were talking, ask me.
“I’ll have a soda water with lime,” I say, and she nods her head. Miller and Ralph, who just joined us, order the same. I’m not a drinker, to begin with, but I stick to a clean diet during the season.
“I’ve never been here,” Ralph says, looking around, and Miller laughs at him.
“Why am I not surprised?” Miller says, shaking his head.
“Is this your old stomping ground?” Ralph asks him. I take a second to look back at her, which makes me all confused. Why do I care where she is? Why do I suddenly want to know her name? I’m not going to lie; as a professional athlete, I am surrounded by women all the time. Women who just want to say they fucked an NHL player and don’t care if you’re married or not. I see it all the time—players who have a girl waiting in every city. I haven’t been with anyone in four years. Four fucking years but no one would believe me if I told them. Only five people know about Murielle’s and my true relationship—Ralph, Miller, Candace, Nico, and Becca.
“I’ve been here a couple of times,” Miller says. “What’s cool is that on the weekends, they have a DJ that comes in, and they transform an outdoor seating area into a dance floor. Those tables over there”—he points— “slowly start to move, and this whole place becomes a dance floor. The booths on the end stay, but you have to pay extra to be in there.” He points at where the redhead is seated. “It’s a fun place.”
Andrew comes over to us. “Before we start, can we get a picture of the three of you?”
“Sure,” Ralph says and looks at me. “I have to put this picture up on Instagram, or Candace will have my ass.” He mentions his wife, the social media expert.
I stand in the middle as the captain with my two assistants flanking me. “This is the first time in our company’s history that we have the captain and his assistants both working with us.”
He snaps a couple of pictures and puts it on Instagram with the tagline:
Making History
“Shall we sit down?” Andrew says once he finishes with his phone. I walk over to the table, grabbing a seat with a view of the restaurant. That’s not normal for me. I usually like to sit with my back to everyone, so no one can snap my picture without me knowing.
“Since when do you want to look out?” Miller says, sitting next to me.
I don’t answer him before I shrug and sit down. The waitress comes back with our drinks, and I take it, but then look back over at her. Why am I so curious about her? Every single time I look over at her, she’s laughing about something, and it lights up her whole face. “What’s up with you?”