Chapter 15
“You”re not up yet, kamarád?” a male voice yells, waking me from a perfect night’s sleep. After the couch, Ralphie brought me back to his bed and took his time worshipping every inch of my body. I expected to wake up wrapped in his arms, which I am. But I didn’t expect to hear someone shouting outside his bedroom door.
“Ralphie,” I whisper. When he doesn’t stir, I nudge him. “Ralphie!”
“What?” he groans, groggily.
“Someone is inside your house.” That statement jolts him awake.
“What?”
“A man is calling for you outside the room.”
“Stay here,” he commands. Springing into action, Ralphie yanks on a pair of boxes and grabs a spare hockey stick—a much better weapon against an intruder than a picture frame. Since my clothes and bag are in the central area of the house, I dress in one of his shirts. If this is an intruder, I don’t want to run through this ritzy neighborhood nude. The quiet murmuring of voices instead of shouts leads me to believe we are not about to be burgled or ax-murdered.
Minutes later, Ralphie returns. “It’s my agent. He made an impromptu visit since I ignored his postgame call.”
“Why did you do that?”
Prowling toward me, he leans over where I am sitting on the bed and fuses our mouths in a savage kiss.
“I had more pressing matters to attend to. Come out and meet him.”
“Okay,” I pant, still breathless. Ralphie wears a self-satisfied smirk when he sees what I’m wearing.
“My clothes are out there. Oh my God! My clothes are out there. He can see my underwear!”
Hooking me around the waist, he stops my mad scramble and pushes me against the door. “First, you can wear my clothes whenever you want. In fact, I prefer seeing you in things that mark you as mine. Second, I put your clothes from last night in your overnight bag, which is now in the bathroom, if you want to clean up first.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ve always got you, Zlatí?ko. Join us when you’re ready. I’m going to order breakfast from the cafe.”
One quick butvigorous shower and shortened morning routine later, I make my way into the kitchen right as Ralphie is plating the food.
“Ah, there is the woman I have been learning all about this morning,” the man across from him calls. Ralphie’s agent, Andre Svoboda, is in his mid-forties if his salt and pepper hair is anything to go on. From what I can tell, he isn’t in hockey player shape but is decently fit. He has thick brows and features similar enough to Ralphie that I can see the shared heritage, but not so much that they appear related.
“Hello,” I greet with a small wave. Ralphie motions for me to come to him, and I tuck into his side. I am usually a social butterfly. Meeting new people is my thing. But something about Andre leaves me with an uneasy sensation in my gut.
“Radek was telling me how the two of you connected. I was surprised he didn’t mention it sooner, but the man loves to keep me on my toes.”
Ralphie grunts in response.
“Tell me about yourself, Morgan. I’m sure you know Radek isn’t a big talker.”
I think he talks the perfect amount to balance my chatterbox nature, but I keep that assessment to myself. Swallowing a bite of a delicious raspberry kolache, I ponder what he might want to know.
“Let’s see, I’m twenty-four, born and raised in Long Beach, and have been a flight attendant for the last few years.”
“And you also work at a nightclub?” he prods. I can’t tell if there is any judgment in his tone, but I nod.
“Two, but they are owned by the same company. When I have free nights. It hardly feels like work to help people have fun.”
“Ah, more of a hobby than a profession, then?”
“I wouldn’t say that. It makes up a good amount of my income. You’d be surprised how much people are willing to pay to feel important.”
“I can only imagine. It is nice when your hobbies can be profitable. Money is what talks in this town. I’ve seen time and time again how it can change people or be used in unscrupulous ways. Are you a big hockey fan?”
I get it now. He thinks I’m after Ralphie for his money. He’s sizing me up. That’s fine. It’s his job to protect his client.
“Crocheting is my biggest hobby. I also enjoy cooking. And last night was my first hockey game. I am more of a baseball girl.”
“Morgan’s brother was drafted by Seattle earlier this year,” Ralphie interjects.
“How nice,” the other man responds. “Well, I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I will be on my way if you could grab those contracts.”
Ralphie nods and heads into his office. When he leaves, Andre’s scrutinizing gaze shifts back to me.
“I don’t know what game you”re playing with the fake sunshine act, girly, but I am on to you. I’ve seen your type before and won’t let you derail the career we’ve built.”
“We?” This guy has a lot of nerve and I have not had enough coffee to reign in the sass.
“You know what I mean. Get the idea that he will fund your lifestyle out of that pretty little head now. Men like Radek can only have one focus, and his is hockey. You have him mesmerized right now with your curves and damsel-in-distress routine, but he’ll see through it eventually, and you’ll move on to your next mark. He needs a serious partner if he will have one at all or at least one with enough clout to raise his status, not some attention-seeking little girl.”
My mouth gapes open. On one hand, I cannot believe this man”s audacity. On the other, he is driving home the same points as Veronica did last night: that I am a silly girl playing in a league she has no business being in.
Before he can insult me further, Ralphie walks in. “Here you go.” Feeling the tension in the room, he asks is everything is good.
“Yep,” I lie.
“I was getting to know your lady and telling her how hard you’ve worked in your career.”
“Mmm,” Ralphie hums. “That’s true, I have. It is nice to sit back and have some fun after years of grinding.”
I know he doesn’t mean it, but the insinuation that I am only ‘fun’ confirms something in Andre”s eyes. As if the words mean, we aren’t as serious as he thought. The joke’s on him.
“Thank you for getting these. I can show myself out.”
As his agent leaves, Ralphie is still watching me suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re good?”
“If you can call decaffeinated good,” I tease.
That spurs him into action as he hits a few buttons on his fancy coffee machine. I don’t know why I didn’t tell him about Andre’s comments, except that I want to remain in the glow from last night for a while longer before I let another voice into my head.
My attemptsat keeping Andre’s voice out fail, though. Later that day, as we lay by Ralphie’s pool, I can’t stop thinking about it. It feeds into the insecurities that surfaced after hearing the WAGs talk about me in the bathroom.
“Zlatí?ko,” the sexy man beside me rasps. “If you don’t stop scrunching your face like you ate a lemon, I am going to pull you into this lounger with me, and you will end up with an uneven tan.”
“You wouldn’t.”
But he would. And he does. Leaning over, he grabs me by the waist and pulls me on top of him. I giggle the whole way.
“That’s better,” he says against my temple, hands splayed over my ass cheeks. “There’s that real smile.”
“Cheesy,” I hum. “What would the world think if they knew big, bad Wreck-It Ralph was secretly a softie?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. I am only soft for you.”
My heart clenches, knowing that’s the truth. To the rest of the world, Radek Nokavik is a big, bad hockey player with a scowl that could scare a baby. But for me, he’s sweet. I don’t know what I did to deserve the privilege of having him this way.
That thought reignites the spiral of insecurities.
“Tell me,” he states.
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me what is making those pretty eyes dim and brow crease.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Morgan,” he warns. “Don’t make me torture it out of you.”
“And how exactly would you do that?”
He pretends to think about it before dawning a mischievous grin as his hands flex on my ass. “I could spank it out of you.”
I shiver.
“Or I could tickle it out of you,” he suggests, fingers creeping around to my sides. When he digs them in, I squirm and squeal, attempting to escape. In the struggle, we flip positions. Now on top of me, he stares down at me, expression playful but also etched with concern.
“I can’t fight your doubts if I don’t know them, baby.”
Not wanting to expose everything I am processing but desperately wanting his validation, I reach for an easy response. “Do you think I try too hard to get attention? That I need too much?”
Ralphie shifts to knees, giving him a better view of my face. Something must tell him the seriousness of my question.
“As someone who tries to avoid attention, I don’t know. I know you always have mine, though. And I wouldn’t want it any other way. I can’t say if you need too much attention because it’s all I can do not to drown you in mine. You’re my pretty little houseplant. If I feed you, water you, and show you some love, you flourish. That’s all I want for you: to blossom into your true self for the rest of the world the way you do with me.”
My eyes prickle at his admission. I slam them shut to stem any tears. I expected him to maybe relieve my concern. I didn’t expect him to melt me into a puddle.
Ralphie presses his lips to my closed lids, allowing his words to penetrate. The gesture is tender and short-lived as he moves to pepper my face with kisses.
“Speaking of drowning, I think it’s time to go for a swim.”
“What?! I wasn’t planning to get wet.”
“That’s too bad, baby.”
“Ralph—” a shriek cuts off my chastisement as he lifts me into his arms and jumps into the pool, holding me. When I break the surface of the water, Ralphie is watching me with the full smile that makes my heart tingle. I wrap my body around his and spend the rest of the day reveling in his attention and forgetting everything else.