“Your…Vince can’t make you marry anyone,” I point out reasonably.
She lifts an eyebrow. “You don’t know him.”
I rub my jaw. “I don’t know him personally that well, but he does have a reputation as a…er, tough negotiator.”
“What Vince wants, Vince gets. He has his ways.” She holds up a hand. “Not by whacking people.”
“Why does he want that so bad? You’re not his daughter.”
She sighs. “I suspect there’s money involved. Lots of money. Roman’s family is very wealthy.”
I get a sick feeling in my gut. This is fucked up. She can’t really think Mr. D can make her marry that asswipe.
“I thought about just leaving,” she says. “But I have to stay for Cat.”
I could see they love each other. If Vince is an asshole to his younger daughter too, I get why she wants to stay.
“If I can make it a few more years, I can leave,” she adds. “Cat’ll be old enough to look after herself.” Her lips push out. “Who am I kidding. I’ll never be able to leave her.” She falls back again, emitting another groan and closing her eyes.
She says all this without an ounce of self pity. It’s all just presented as established facts. For some reason, this makes me like her. I don’t feel sorry for her. Well, I do. But in a way where I want to help her. “It’s okay. We got this.”
“No. I’ll figure this out. You don’t need to be involved.”
“I already am. Look.” My mind rolls. “What if we keep seeing each other?”
One eye opens. “What do you mean?”
“We keep pretending we’re together. Roman will leave you alone, and Mr. D will give up on that idea.”
“What if he trades you away?”
My back teeth grind a little. “I don’t think he’ll do that. Not to brag, but I’m a pretty good player. They just signed me last year again. The team’s been through a bunch of changes lately. He has to care more about winning than about marrying you off.”
She purses her lips and thinks this over. “Possibly.”
“Also, he isn’t the manager or the coach. I guess ultimately he could tell them what to do, but most owners are more hands off. If he told Coach to bench me, he’d probably get a fight.” I hope.
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’ve got other ideas?”
She falls silent. Finally, she says, “No.”
6
Emerie
“Vince doesn’t even like hockey that much,” I tell Owen. “He just likes making money.”
He snorts. “Owning a hockey team is a tough way to do that.”
“I wouldn’t know.” I nibble on my lip. “How long would we have to do that?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe…a month?”
My eyes pop open. “A month is nothing. Roman will still be hanging around.” Then I slump into the couch. “See? I can’t ask you to do this. I don’t know how long it’ll take. Unless…”
“What?”
“We find someone else for Roman to marry.”
He bursts out laughing, then sobers when he sees I’m serious. “You are batshit crazy.”
“I know.” I sigh. “But what if we did? What if Roman fell in love with someone else?” I tip my head back. “That could work.”
“You could just tell Vince the truth. You don’t want to marry Roman.”
“I have told him that! Repeatedly! He just brushes me off.” I grimace. “Finding a boyfriend actually might help. Other than Roman, I’ve never had a boyfriend before.” I give him a shy look.
He blinks. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Why? I’m weird. And I’ve been busy looking after a kid.”
“And hanging out in the subway.”
“That just started.” She waves a hand.
“Well, that’s my offer. Take it or leave it.” He finishes his beer and sets down the bottle as if he’s leaving.
Panic flashes through my chest. “Okay! I’ll take it.”
“For a month.”
I already pointed out a month isn’t long enough, but it’s the best I have right now. “Okay.”
“Let’s go back to the party.”
“Ugh.”
“Believe me, I feel the same. But we need your stepdad to see us.”
“I suppose so.”
I don’t know why he’s willing to do this. It’s bizarre, and he seems pretty normal. “I’m really grateful,” I say quietly. “I know this is fucked up.”
He purses those gorgeous lips. I bet he’s a good kisser. “It really is. But I said I’ll do it, so I’ll do it.”
I gaze at him for a few long seconds. “I really appreciate that.”
I stick a foot out and slide my shoes closer to me, then slip them on. “Okay.” I stand. “Let’s go.”
I’m pretty tall, and even with my four-inch Louboutins on, I’m still a good six inches shorter than him. “You’re really tall,” I say as I lead the way out of my room.
“So I’ve heard.”
I flash a smile. “Just call me Captain Obvious.”
“Ha.”
The party is in full swing, the music now more up-tempo, the voices louder. We stop at the bar again for refills of liquid courage.
“No offense,” Owen says as he picks up another glass of scotch. “But I’m probably not gonna drink this. It’s disgusting.”
I bite back my smile. “You don’t have to drink it. I can get you another beer.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll just carry this around and look sophisticated.”
I give him an up and down look. His expensive suit fits his athletic body perfectly, accessorized with shiny, stylish shoes. Definitely sophisticated. His big hands are clean, with neatly trimmed nails, although his knuckles are a bit red and rough. And his face…sophisticated is not the correct word to describe his face. More like…tough. A small scar creases the skin near his mouth, barely visible beneath his stubble, and his nose isn’t perfectly straight at the bridge. The twin lines between his eyebrows give him a perpetual glowering look, although when he smiles, they disappear. His smile is…warm. Like an incandescent bulb in a dark room. It’s bright, safe, reassuring.
Also sexy as fuck.
I’ve never been into athletes, but now I’m getting the attraction.
“You look great,” I murmur, then sip my cocktail.
“So do you. I never would have guessed…this…” He gestures at me. “…was underneath those baggy clothes.”
“This?” I lift an eyebrow.
He eases me away from the bar so others can get there. “Fishing for compliments?”
“Yes.”
A surprised laugh snaps out of him.
“I’m kidding,” I say. “I’m just bugging you.” I look down at myself. “I try to look different when I’m busking.”