“You want a decision,” he guesses.
“Yes. We don’t have all the time in the world.”
“All you’ve made are promises. I want proof, VanCourt.”
My body tenses. His reluctance makes sense, and I’d question his sanity if he agreed to my terms without due diligence, but there’s a timeline, and the time for pulling the trigger on phase one—get Henry Savage on board—is ticking to expiration.
“Naturally,” I force myself to say. “But you need to?—”
“And I want to know what you expect of me,” he says, some of that aristocratic pedigree bleeding through. I don’t see it in Ryan as much as I expected, maybe because he’s been fighting it his whole life? But it’s there. He probably finds it insulting that a grunt of the world like me would own him.
Even Uncle Jasper, who held a title within some circles, wasn’t accepted by everyone in his social class. I was never given anything close to a title of any kind. If it were anyone, it would have been Luke named as his heir. Or he would have been given it if he’d fallen in line better. Luke’s the one who wanted to live like an animal in the woods, so Uncle Jasper let him be.
Yeah, let him be. He’d never fucking let me off like that.The only way you leave is in a body bag, he’d said on many occasions. I got a year in California with Luke, and that was the most freedom I’d ever had.
Until he was dead.
I’m right where I want to be, though. I like being King of the Underworld. And I’ll have my beautiful consort by my side. If he’d fucking make up his mind.
“You said I’d be giving up my freedom—tell me about that. It’s been left to my imagination too long, and I’m picturing collars and chains.”
My cock pulses, blood rushing. I’d love to have him in a collar and chains, but a man like Ryan would become a restless doll. A sad doll. I want him shackled to me, but I have no wish to kill his spirit. His angry spirit makes my dick hard. “Don’t give me ideas, dollface. But to answer your question, I decide what we do and when we do it. You ask me for permission for big things, and I want to know where you are at all times. It’s a safety measure, but it’s also because?—”
“You’re a controlling bastard?”
A proud smile spreads onto my face. “Yes.” I’m not ashamed of it.
“That means playing in the NHL is out,” he says, but I catch the bite in his voice.
I trail fingers over his cheek to soothe him. “Is that something you want?”
“Isn’t that every hockey player’s dream?”
But he already did that … until he didn’t. His reason for leaving Phoenix was buried well, but there are too many reasons a contract can end to say for sure.
Uncle Jasper’s laughing in his grave at my conundrum. A hockey husband is the perfect husband for me. He’d be away most of the year, and I could conduct business without having to concern him with my affairs. He could be ignorant of all of it. But the thought of Ryan being away from me for most of the year makes me murderous.
Does that mean I keep him with me or distance myself from him? My hand finds his hair, clenching, as if I’m trying to leash him to me by it.
He hisses. “Okay, already. I’ll take that as a no.”
I don’t know if it is, so I leave it at that for now. I’m going to have to talk it over with Ethan. I’ve made a college hockey schedule work; would an NHL one be that different? Being commissioner would be off the table … fuck.
“You know, if someone would let me play murder hockey?—”
My hand cinches tighter into his hair of its own accord, I swear. “Murder hockey? Is that what you call it?”
“Yeah,” he says through gritted teeth. I ease off him.
“Your safety is non-negotiable. Add that to the list of rules. No putting yourself at risk beyond a standard hockey game,” I add, because I know that’s coming.
He exhales. “Yeah. Anything else?”
“Just the usual marital promises. Sleep with anyone else, and I kill them and punish you.”
Ryan laughs. Finally. I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever hear him laugh. But it’s not the laugh I want to hear. I want it bigger. Louder. “That’s nowhere near the usual marital promise, but it’s on brand for you, I guess.”
I return to counting his heartbeats and breaths for exactly one hundred and sixty-seven beats, but then he interrupts me again.
