Dollface
Fine. I’m yours for thirty minutes.
Yeah, there’s no way I’m missing even one of those thirty minutes.
Me
Careful, Ryan. I like your edge, but I don’t have an issue dulling it.
Dollface
Go fuck yourself, Tatum.
Tatum?I bristle. I hate when people call me Tatum. Uncle used it to taunt me. Luke always full-named me when I was in trouble and when he was disappointed in me. But if I tell Ryan that, he’ll just use it more.
Ryan needs to be put in his place. That’s fine. Thirty minutes is all I need to do it.
The fundraiser was as expected. Getting my team to do what they were supposed to was like herding cats. At least we had a good turnout. Shae McKinnon was there, and he’s more than just a hefty pocketbook. He’s a treasured alumnus. The other would-be donors liked seeing him, and it led to some good conversations. I did enough footwork to make Patrick happy, but then I tuned out. All I’ve been able to think about is Ryan and what I’m going to do to him.
I’ve done a lot of thinking since that text exchange.
Ryan’s acting as if he holds all the cards just because I’ve given him an inch. But there’s no way he does. The one thing all the players in my underground league have in common is that they’re desperate. Ryan wouldn’t be playing in an underground hockey ring if he weren’t grasping at straws. He wouldn’t even consider my proposal, knowing what it entailed, unless he was out of options. I need to extract his motivation. I’ll use that to trap him.
Just because I’m speeding and playing chicken with a few traffic lights, that doesn’t mean I’m desperate to see him. I want enough time to see my plan through.
I spin my car into the parking stall, irritation climbing my spine as my head of security, Jane Takahashi, strides up to the car, flanked by two additional guards.
“He’s in your office as requested, sir,” she says, her dark, high ponytail swinging to a halt. “But Ethan wants to speak with you first.”
“Tell Ethan he can speak with me later.” I got here ten minutes ahead of schedule thanks to my reckless driving. Every one of those minutes is for Ryan.
Jane purses her lips, judging me. I lead the charge into the brewery, where Ethan’s waiting like an overprotective mother, trying to catch her son sneaking in.
“Not now,” I snap as he stands, following me down the hallway.
“We need to talk, sir.”
“About what?” I don’t slow down as I head for my office.
“In private.”
“Speak now, or it’ll have to wait.” I make it past the tall stainless steel, cone-bottomed fermentation tanks, Ethan’s shoes clapping behind me the whole way. The brewery is empty, our patrons far below, enjoying the third period.
“What are you doing with the hot beefy man in your office?”
My hand seizes his throat. I slam him against the wall, my chest heaving with angry breaths. “You do not talk about him that way, understand?”
He nods, but he doesn’t gasp for air or beg for it like most would when their airway’s been choked. I release him, and he closes his eyes briefly, raking in a slow breath, succumbing to a coughing fit.
“He’s none of your fucking business,” I say before he’s recovered. I meet Jane’s eyes. “Take him to his office. He doesn’t leave until I say so.”
Ethan glares. “You don’t have to get your goons to drag me. I’ll take myself like a good boy.”
I shake my head. “Too far, Ethan. We’ll be chatting afterward.”
“Fine, but you’re gonna wish you’d talked to me first. You’re carrying me, big boy,” he says to the larger man.
He winces. “Sir,” he says in my direction.
