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When I get to the venue that night, the doors haven’t opened yet, and the ballroom is quiet. The Ballroom At The Ben is a gorgeous old-fashioned space. I stop one of the workers. “Excuse me. I’m looking for Miss Brenner.”
“Umm... Try upstairs. I think she was up there.” The young woman points me to the back of the room, where the large wooden staircase sits between the wall and an ornately carved banister. I make my way around the tables and stop to admire the space. Daphne did an incredible job. High-top tables dot the edges of the main room with white flowers and red-and-blue ribbons adorning each one and a Revolution puck in the middle. They match the Revolution’s logo that’s lit up on the center of the ballroom floor in front of the stage set up for the auction.
Once I’ve climbed the stairs, I pass by table after table of silent auction items Daphne and her intern were able to secure. I donated a weekend at our house in Killington. There are tickets to Kings games and Revolution games. There are even Sentinels tickets, thanks to Brady and Natalie Ryan. Signed jerseys. Aiden Murphy and his wife donated an all-inclusive tour of Washington, DC, including a behind-the-scenes at the Smithsonian. Hudson is offering a private sparring session, and Sawyer donated a private party and bottle service at Kingdom. And all that is on top of the typical auction items you find at these events.
Daphne really outdid herself.
And just as that thought crosses my mind, the woman herself appears in front of me like something out of a dream. My siren, luring me in by simply existing, is breathtakingly stunning. Daphne’s wrapped in a purple dress that hugs the curves of her body in a way I wish I were. Her hair is long and sleek, brushed back over her shoulders, and her expression is full of excitement and anticipation for her big night.
She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I hate that I have to share her with the world tonight instead of dragging her back to my bed. “Daphne.”
Her head snaps up as she adjusts one of the auction sheets, and the smile gracing her beautiful face could bring a man to his knees. “This place looks incredible. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank goodness. I’m so nervous, Max. Look.” She holds her hands up in front of me, her fingers trembling. “I’m shaking. I just want everything to be perfect.”
I wrap my arms around her and hold her against me. “It is perfect, D.”
She tilts her head back to look at me. “D, huh?”
“I figured it might help calm your nerves.” My lips brush over hers. “Don’t get used to it. It feels weird to say it.”
Her fingers tug at the back of my hair. “No. I don’t like it either. Not from you.” Her mouth claims mine, and Daphne sinks into me until a whistle breaks us apart.
When I turn around, Becket stands behind us with Hudson and Jace. I place my hand on the small of her back possessively and glare at my brothers, wondering which asshole whistled like a dick. “Daphne, I’d like to formally introduce you to my brothers. This is Jace and Hudson.”
“It’s so nice to meet you both.”
“You know,” Jace is eyeing Daphne like a fancy new hockey stick he can’t wait to hold. “If you ever want to trade up for the younger Kingston, I’m willing to entertain offers.”
Hudson wraps his hand around Jace’s face and over his mouth. “Ignore him. He’s taken too many pucks to the head.”
My siren bites down on her bottom lip and forces back her smile. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got no complaints.”
Becket mumbles something that sounds like, “I bet.”
“And you’ve met Becket.”
She reaches out her hand to shake his, but he leaves her hanging. She awkwardly lowers her hand and forces a smile I know is fake. “Nice to see you again, Becket.”
I’m going to kill my brother if he ruins her night.
As the music begins to play downstairs, Daphne clears her throat. “Well, if you would all excuse me. I see Willow looking for me.”
As she walks away, I turn to Becks. “What the hell is your problem?”
“She’s my problem, brother. Has she told you her dad left town yet? That he sold everything they had to pay off a debt to Sam? That she’s got nothing left? Not a penny to her name?”
“Becks,” Hudson tries to interrupt.
“And it’s not like her name means jack shit right now anyway. The old man owes everybody something. He even wiped out her trust.”
“What the fuck?” What kind of piece of shit does that to their own kid?
But Becks is wrong. I know Daphne, and she’s not her father.
Jace tries to stop his tirade too. “Becks—”
