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“Is Dominic over losing his spot on the second line to him?”
I nod. “Pretty much. He can get his spot back anytime if he works hard enough.”
She looks up at me, her palms on my chest. “We can get dinner after I’m done if you want to, or you can meet up with Ben. I’m fine either way.”
“Are you kidding? I spend more time with that fucker than you, and he’s not even hot. I’ll wait for you.”
She smiles, looking pleased. “We can try that new steakhouse you mentioned. I’ll try to get us a reservation.”
“Okay.” I kiss her lightly. “Who are you meeting up with?”
She blinks, confused. “What do you mean?”
“You’re having drinks with a friend—which one? You’ve told me about a couple of your friends.”
“Oh. Lena. I don’t think I’ve mentioned her. We went to college together.”
I don’t react, but a red flag goes up in my mind. Quentin just told me her friend Lena is in France.
“How long do you think you’ll be?”
“Maybe two hours? She’s having problems with her husband and wants to talk.”
Either she has two friends named Lena, or she’s an incredibly convincing liar. Immediately, I wonder if she’s really where she says she is when I’m on the road.
“You want to text me when you’re done?”
She nods. “Perfect. I’m so lucky to get two spend two nights in a row with you.”
“I’m the lucky one,” I say automatically, releasing my hold on her.
She gets her coat and bag, closing and locking the office door as we walk out.
On our walk to the stairway, she makes small talk, seeming as light and carefree as ever. Maybe Quentin didn’t hear what he thought he did.
“I need to stop back by the weight room,” I say as we climb the stairs. “I’ll see you later.”
I kiss her, she waves, and we take off in opposite directions. As soon as she’s out of sight, I run the rest of the way to the weight room, where I knew I’d find Sergei lifting weights. It takes two of the college’s players to spot him, and they both look like they’re praying he doesn’t need them to lift the bar.
“Hey, I need to trade cars with you until tomorrow,” I tell him.
He grunts and returns the bar to its rack. “My keys are in my locker.”
This is one of my favorite things about Sergei—he doesn’t ask for explanations or talk things to death. He’s a simple, straight-to-the-point kind of guy.
“No fast food in my car,” he calls out as I’m leaving the room.
“Got it,” I say.
Sergei’s black Mercedes G-Wagon is his prized possession. He won’t let anyone smoke within twenty feet of it, and he’d shank anyone who tried to light up while riding in it. Teammates have accused him of having sex with it.
I swap out my keys for his and run to the parking lot designated for Coyotes players and staff. Mila is just pulling out in my Range Rover. I keep my head down as I walk toward the G-Wagon, unlock it, and get inside.
A stab of guilt hits me over following her. If she’s really meeting a friend for drinks, I’ll feel like a huge asshole. But my possessive side has to know if she’s fucking around on me.
I stay several cars back, keeping my baseball cap pulled down low. She stops at a Chinese place and walks out with a bag.
What the hell is she doing with a bag of Chinese carryout? I pull into traffic and keep following her, my gut churning with worry.
Has the past week all been an act for her? Is she just placating me so I’ll stay in the marriage until she finds another way to stay in the country?
I don’t want to believe those things, but my hopes are shredded when she pulls up to a house on the outskirts of the city. It’s a simple bungalow, and my first reaction is surprise that a billionaire like Mila would have any sort of clandestine meeting at someone’s house.
I park across the street, watching through the car window as she walks up to the front porch and knocks on the door. A tall, buff dude with dark, short hair opens the door and she goes inside.
I lean my head on the steering wheel, feeling like a fucking idiot. Part of me wants to walk up to that door and pull the guy out into the road to settle up.
He might not even know about me, though. She might be playing us both.
I start up the car and drive away, unable to wait and see how long she spends inside with him. It doesn’t really matter anyway. She lied to me. The trust we’ve been building between us is now gone. Again.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Mila
I pull into Colby’s garage, my curiosity piqued when I see a G-Wagon already parked inside. He texted me and asked if we could meet up here for dinner instead of going out.
