“I was telling Ares that you wanted to go watch him dance at the club at some point.”
If I thought my stomach was swoopy earlier, it ain’t got nuthin’ on this. It’s in freefall. Off the tallest building in the world. I’m going to murder my best friend and bury her body in a corn field. It’s not like we’re short of those.
“Is that true,cariño? Do you want to see me dance?”
I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. I said I would be honest with him, and if I say no, that’s a lie. But if I say yes, he’ll make it happen.
Yeah, I’m absolutely going to kill her.
He won’t judge me for wanting to watch him, in fact, I’m almost sure he’ll love it. He’s a performer and loves being the center of attention, and I imagine he’d strip and break into something right now if Dad wasn’t in the basement.
Actually, part of him probably wants to do it anyway, regardless of who can see.
“You don’t need to be embarrassed.” He strokes my hand with his thumb, and I lean into it, wanting him to touch me everywhere. “I’d love for you to come and see me dance.”
I nod, not sure what to say. Tori is trying—unsuccessfully—not to laugh. “It’s a date!” She claps her hands together, glee and triumph oozing from her, and pulls out her phone. “When are you working next?”
Oh. She means business. This isn’t one of those “let’s do it sometime” things that end up never getting done. My best friend is making sure it’s written in stone, sealed with a blood oath, and in her calendar so it doesn’t get “accidentally” forgotten about.
I hate my best friend.
Except, a tiny, minuscule, microscopic piece of me is excited at the thought of watching Ares strip and dance to music—but I’ll never tell her that. Ever. And I’m still going to kill her for good measure.
Ares tells her when he’s next expected at the club, then he tells her when the next home games are for the Raccoons, and she shudders. “Thanks, but hockey isn’t my jam.” She’s turned colder than the tundra in less than a nanosecond.
Either Ares doesn’t read the room, or he doesn’t care. “It’s fun, you should come.”
She folds her arms, her lips flatten, and I’m trying to scream telepathically into Ares’s brain that he needs to back down. He stares at her for maybe two seconds before he slides back into his chair.
“Did one of my hockey brothers do you dirty?”
That has an almost undetectable reaction from her, but it’s there. Her eyes narrow, a muscle in her cheek feathering like she’s fighting a wince. We both see it. Ares wags his finger. “Screw whoever he is. Don’t let him get in the way of you having fun.” Then he holds up his hands, palms facing Tori. “But if hockey really isn’t for you, that’s cool. It’s not for everyone, even if I want it to be. I’ll drop it.” His gaze flicks to me. My insides start to warm up again after Tori’s arctic blast. I’m so glad he’s understanding.
I really don’t like sports. While I didn’t mind the hockey game, and I don’t mind going every now and then, I can’t see myself becoming a screaming fan every week at the stadium.
They stay for a while, we have pie, we laugh, we hang out and it’s all normal, nice, right, even. I was worked up about the fact Tori might be awkward being around Ares and me, but we’re not all lovey dovey. I’m not draped over him. We all just kinda exist in the same space. But the time eventually comes for them both to leave and for the inevitable showdown with Dad.
The door is barely closed behind them when Dad’s presence lurks behind me. I straighten my spine, close my eyes for the length of a slow breath, and slowly turn to face him.
CHAPTER19
Ares
Mierda. He sounds pretty mad.
I’m a few feet away from Eloise’s front door, box of hot chocolate from Bitches Brew in my hand. I left it in the car by accident and wanted to give it to her before I left. I wanted to tell her the packets of hot chocolate she’s been finding are from me.
She hasn’t mentioned them, and neither have I, but I want her to know she doesn’t have a secret admirer, at least not anymore.
Except, her dad’s yelling at her pretty loudly right now. Right there behind the front door. I shouldn’t listen. I should drop the box and high-tail it out of there. But I can’t unstick my feet from the front path. I want to break down the door, throw my arms around her, and protect her from the words he’s saying.
“He’s a criminal, Eloise! The only reason he’s not behind bars is because of who he is. Actually, not even whoheis, who his father is. His billionaire dad is keeping him from spending the rest of his days in prison. Is that who you want to be with?”
The rest of my days is a stretch. I’m not a fucking murderer or anything. I’ve never done anything to warrant a life sentence in the big house. But that’s beside the point.
I don’t hear a reply from Eloise. I’m not sure if it’s because she doesn’t say anything, or because he doesn’t let her. His booming voice is intimidating, scary even, and my girl is probably trembling inside, and that kills me.
She’s not completely mine, not yet anyway. She doesn’t trust me, and that’s okay; trust is earned not given. But right now, she’s mine, and I want to protect her from everything that might hurt her, even her father.
