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“I thought your father gave you the money to buy the Coyotes.”
She nods. “He gave me a substantial amount of money when I turned twenty-one. I used some of it to buy real estate and some of it to buy the team.”
“Why did he give you that much money if he doesn’t care about you?”
She looks at the floor, silent for a full minute before she finally answers.
“My grandfather was poor as a kid. One of his siblings died of starvation. He had nothing and he made himself into a very powerful, wealthy man.” She lifts her head and meets my gaze. “But not a good man. He was a horrible person who did horrible things. And he raised his sons to be the same way. Then he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.”
Her voice catches with emotion and I reach for her hand, leading her over to the bed to sit down. She sits next to me, takes a deep breath, and continues.
“He got lost on the way home from a doctor’s appointment one day, and a very poor woman found him in a dangerous area. It’s…” Tears stream down her face and she wipes them away. “I don’t know if it’s irony or what, but before his Alzheimer’s, my grandfather could have just said his name in a place like that and people would have run in fear. He couldn’t remember his name, though. It was his first really bad episode. And this woman, Irina, she fed him and let him stay in her home. She had no idea who she was helping. And it…changed him. He called me crying about all the awful things he’d done and how much he regretted them. When he tried to tell my father how wrong he was, my father…” She sighs heavily. “He saw him as a sick, weak old man.”
I stroke my thumb over her skin, knowing how hard it is for her to show any sign of vulnerability.
“My father said I had to choose between them. He put the word out that my grandfather had lost his mind and become a liability. I chose my grandfather. That’s why I came to the U.S. in the first place, and it’s why I can’t go back home.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’ve led a privileged life. I have everything I’ve ever wanted and more. I promise you that as soon as this is all over, I’ll reward you for helping me.”
That’s how everything is with Mila. Transactional. Her coldness has made her into a shrewd businesswoman, but it’s also kept her from believing anyone cares about her for more than her money.
“It was your grandfather’s Fabergé eggs we saved from the fire?” I ask.
“You saved them.” Fresh tears spring to her eyes. “Yes, they were his.”
“It’s a shame we don’t get to choose our own families, isn’t it?”
She laughs softly. “Would you choose differently?”
I tense up, wishing I hadn’t said anything. “For some people I would.”
“Me too. But then…who would I be without going through everything I did? I know I’m a strong person because of where I come from. The things I’ve seen and learned.”
I cup her cheek in my hand, turning her face toward me. “I’m not helping you because I expect money.”
“I know. But money is how I show my appreciation.”
“Show me your appreciation by being real.”
She pinches her brows together. “Real?”
I nod. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, you know.”
“I don’t know any other way to be.”
“You were real just now. And it didn’t even hurt.”
She smiles. “Sorry for saying I won’t be your expendable hole.”
I arch a brow, amused. “I think it was cheap expendable hole.”
“Okay, that.” Her expression is sheepish. “Sorry I said that.”
“Sorry for wanting to give you mind-blowing orgasms.”
She laughs and leans against me. “I hardly ever laugh. Thanks for making me laugh.”
“Want to order pizza and watch a movie?”
“That sounds great.”
I stand and pick up the paper with a listing of what’s available on pay per view.
“Horny Hairy Girls or the new Marvel movie?” I ask.
“You choose. I’ll order the pizza. What do you like on yours?”
“Everything.”
She places the order, asking the pizza place to leave it outside our hotel room door, and we change clothes. She’s wearing shorts and a Coyotes T-shirt and I’m wearing my boxers and a white undershirt. We climb into bed and she snuggles into my side, making my cock twitch to attention.
“You picked the Marvel movie,” she says, amused. “I called that one wrong.”
“I don’t care if I fall asleep during this one, but I won’t be missing a minute of Horny Hairy Girls when I watch it.”
She laughs again and I’m glad I stayed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mila
Our building site is finally ready.
I look out at the wide-open lot, filled with excitement for the future. Several buildings had to be acquired and demolished to make way for the new arena, and now the construction crew can start on the foundation.
