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Plus, I owed it to her after I’d turned down not one, but two of her requests to run away for the weekend over Christmas. With everything up in the air regarding the safety line, I just couldn’t take the time away from the office.
I leaned on the brass banister that framed the wide balcony that ran along the side of the room, putting me about ten feet above the action, just high enough to see everyone on the dance floor. Daisy was currently out on the floor with Fiona and their friend Madeline, and her smile told me she was having a great time.
The slit in her black dress rode higher on her thigh as she danced, and I clenched the railing with my empty hand, reminding myself for the hundredth time tonight that I couldn’t just steal her away to the penthouse suite and spend the rest of my night between her thighs. I’d nearly torn the silky confection right off her when I’d picked her up tonight and forgotten all about the party. Her hair was up, leaving the smooth column of her neck deliciously bare for my mouth, and the plunging neckline of her dress had me hard just looking at her.
“I fucking love that I didn’t have to plan this,” Ethan said, sipping his champagne next to me and leaning over the railing to look over the party.
“I bet you do,” I muttered, nursing my own glass of Dom.
“I just love that Doyle isn’t here,” Weston chimed in from my other side.
“Have I mentioned how much I fucking loathe you for bringing him in on our game?” Ethan drawled, shooting a glare Weston’s way.
“I know,” West muttered. “He really is a fucking asshole.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Gareth said from Weston’s left. “We have to get rid of him.”
We all whipped our heads toward Gareth.
He tugged at his collar, undoing the bowtie of his Armani tux. “What?” He looked at us and rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, I mean we have to get him out of the game, not kill him.”
Weston slapped his back. “Just needed to make sure, my man.” He looked out over the floor. “Is that Maddox Porter?” His eyes narrowed.
“Probably. I invited a lot of my team,” Ethan answered, following Weston’s line of sight.
I did the same, and then quickly swallowed the rest of my champagne.
“Where?” Gareth asked, scanning the crowd.
“Dancing with Brynn!” Weston accused, white knuckling his champagne flute.
“It appears to be him,” I agreed.
“What the fuck is he thinking?” Weston shook his head.
“That she’s probably one of the only women he hasn’t fucked in here,” Ethan said, shaking his head. “Swear to God, that guy has more—”
“His hands are on her ass!” Weston roared, shoving off the banister and charging for the stairs.
“Fuck me,” Ethan muttered, marching after him. “If you put your hands on my star pitcher, I will pound you into the goddamned ground, Rutherford!” They disappeared down the steps.
“Think we should—” I started.
“Nope,” Gareth answered. “Just be glad Cross isn’t here, because you know there’s nothing he loves more than to get involved in other people’s love lives.”
“Amen to that.” I glanced across the crowd and saw Hendrix Malone dancing with his redheaded wife, Savannah. “How’s Malone working out for you?”
“Fucking phenomenal,” Gareth answered. “I owe Weston for that one. Best deal I’ve made. That guy is going to put us in the playoffs this year.” He nodded toward the couple dancing closest to them. “What about Maxim Zolotov? He still playing solid after his…you know, last year?”
“He’s cured.” I shuddered at the memory of Maxim’s yips last year. He was our leading scorer, and the second his father had stuck his NHL legend nose into his business, and his brother Sterling’s, Maxim hadn’t been able to shoot for shit. “Think it has something to do with his girlfriend, so as long as they’re solid, I think we’re good.”
My phone buzzed, and I pulled it from my pocket, my eyebrows rising at the name on the screen. “I have to take this.”
Gareth nodded, and I walked away, swiping to answer the call. Five minutes later, I was practically bouncing with excitement as I searched out Daisy on the floor.
“Hey, honey,” she said, her grin wide as she wrapped her arms around me. “Are you done lording over your empire up there?”
“Is that what you think I was doing?” I pulled her into my embrace as the music slowed. Perfect timing.
“I think you love your players but you try to keep a professional distance when possible.” She slid her hands up into my hair.
“You aren’t wrong there.” I glanced to my left and smiled at Axel Nyström, the captain of my Reapers, as he danced with his wife, Langley. “Have I told you how beautiful you are tonight?” It took every ounce of my self-control, but I kept my hands on her waist and refrained from gripping her delectable ass.
