Chapter Nine
Sig was really taking a huge chance driving his junker from Boston to Darien—and the ancient engine was making its grievances known. But Chloe wanted her good luck blouse for tomorrow, so she was going to get the goddamn blouse. As long as Sig had a single breath in his lungs, if she wanted something, he’d go get it for her.
No questions or debates.
Not even if she’d spit roasted his fucking heart tonight and left it out to bleed.
He needed to speak to his father. Immediately. There were only two months remaining until the wedding... and now he’d lost Chloe. Lost her in a capacity he’d never really had her, but reason didn’t make the gaping wound in his chest any smaller or less excruciating.
Sig blindly took the exit to Darien, his tires squealing as he took the left onto the service road that would take him toward the Sound—and the Clifford residence.
The worst part about tonight was he’d hurt Chloe.
Had she been the one to strip nearly naked and beg to be taken to bed? Yeah—and he’d be replaying every second of that adult game of peekaboo until he was old and gray. But the fact that Chloe started it didn’t matter. Sig was the one with the inside information. He was the one keeping his father’s past to himself, hoping it would derail the wedding. Even if that happened, Sig would still be so fucking worried about being able to provide for Chloe that he wouldn’t give himself the privilege of sleeping with her until he had a secure contract with the Bearcats. Money and security to offer her.
Chloe knew none of that.
She only knew she’d been denied.
That truth sat in his stomach like a dozen bricks. He could barely remember the three-hour drive, because he continued to replay not only what happened earlier, but over the course of the last six months since Chloe moved to Boston. God knew their relationship had never been easy. How could it be? There was enough sexual tension between them to fill every hockey arena in North America. But in the beginning, when he’d rented her the apartment and showed her around Boston, he’d kept his filthy hands to himself. Mostly. He’d left her place without watching her strip, at the very least.
He didn’t speak to her like he spoke to her tonight.
Press it where we both wish I could put my cock, Chloe.
Sig squealed to a stop at a red light and rolled down the window, letting cold air into the truck so he wouldn’t arrive sweating. Maybe he shouldn’t have made this impulsive trip to visit Harvey. Hell, he hadn’t even called first. But he kept hearing Chloe say I can’t do this anymore . Kept hearing her suggestion they date other people. So, no, he couldn’t put this visit off. He was running out of time.
There was one disaster he could avert right this moment, however.
With the light still red, Sig picked up his phone and quickly pulled up the necessary contact, tapping dial. His agent, David, answered on the fourth ring, his voice groggy and disoriented from sleep. “No, Sig. I haven’t heard from the Bearcats about an offer yet.”
Sig ignored the grind in his stomach. “That’s not why I’m calling. I need you to do something for me and it’s urgent.”
“At one thirty in the morning? You don’t say.” A long-suffering sigh. “What is it?”
“I need you to get me off Boston’s Most Eligible Bachelor list. Like yesterday.”
“Why? That kind of thing only serves to raise your stock.”
“First of all, you obviously haven’t spent much time in a locker room with athletes. That kind of thing gets you absolutely crucified. But second...” Sig trailed off, knowing he couldn’t give David the real reason. “Look, you’ll have to take my word for it. I need to not be on that list.”
Chloe would hate it, no matter what she said to the contrary. In fact, Sig had a hunch that this stupid list was the real reason tonight had ended like it had. A dinner bell being rung over his head would make her jealous. It would drive her crazy. And he didn’t do that kind of shit to her. End of story. As far as Sig was concerned, there was nothing eligible about him.
He’d been locked down tighter than Fort Knox for six months.
“Do you have a girlfriend or something? What reason am I giving them?”
“I don’t know.” The light finally turned green and Sig hit the gas, sailing through the intersection. “Tell them I’m morally opposed to being objectified.”
David groaned. “What a waste of good looks.”
Sig rolled his eyes. “Just shut it down, will you?”
“I’ll do what I can.”
Minutes later, Sig pulled up to the mansion on the Sound and killed the engine, the bricks in his stomach growing heavier as he looked up at the reminder of what Chloe had given up by moving to Boston. By dropping everything and coming with him at a moment’s notice. Trusting him wholeheartedly.
He’d vowed to himself that he wouldn’t let her be sorry.
Tonight was the first time he’d felt on the verge of failing her.
They were in love, he and Chloe. Deep, twisted, enduring love. They hadn’t said the words out loud, but their actions spoke for themselves. She showed up to every game, she lit up whenever he walked into the room, when she had a bad day, she called him. Cried into his neck. Called him with good news, too. Celebrated by popping champagne into the phone and begging him to come over and dance with her. She was everything joyful and sacred in his life.
And he wanted to marry her more than he wanted to live.
Sig took his phone out of the cupholder and texted his father.
I’m outside. Need to talk.
A light came on in the upstairs window a few seconds later, followed by Harvey’s silhouette peering down at the circular driveway.
Impatience gnawed at Sig’s gut.
Dammit, he’d been so confident that this relationship between Harvey and Sofia would fizzle out before a wedding could even take place. They were still together, though. Happy, too, according to Chloe. Had Sofia’s lawyers simply not done a thorough job of investigating Harvey’s past? If he had, wouldn’t Harvey be out on his ear by now?
If Sofia’s lawyers had come up empty, would Niko have no luck, too?
Sig didn’t know, but there was one avenue he’d yet to take—and it was a long shot. Nonetheless, he was taking that shot tonight.
His future with Chloe was at stake and he was getting desperate.
As soon as Sig saw Harvey emerge from the house in a robe, rubbing his hands together against the cold, Sig climbed out of the truck and walked in the direction of his father. They met at the side of the fountain, Harvey eyeballing him like he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had.
“It’s the middle of the night. Is something wrong? Is Chloe okay?”
Jesus, the mere suggestion that something could be wrong with Chloe made Sig’s stomach pitch sideways, upsetting the bricks he’d been carrying around all night. “She’s fine. I’m sure she’s sleeping in the glow of the Home Shopping Network right now.”
Harvey ceased blowing warm air into his hands. “How do you know how she sleeps?”
“I know because she told me,” Sig responded in a hard tone. “Don’t make implications about my relationship with her. You don’t know the first thing about it.”
“I know you’re too close to the woman who will one day be your stepsister.” Harvey paused, his expression wary. Scrutinizing. “She calls to speak with her mother and you’re all she talks about.”
Sig tried to keep his features neutral, but he could barely swallow after hearing that.
Why was he hedging the truth, though? Hadn’t he come here tonight to plead for his life? It burned to beg this man for anything. He’d do whatever it took to stop this wedding, though. Not only so he could be with Chloe, but so this man couldn’t potentially deplete another woman’s finances under the guise of being a loving husband.
“Fine.” Sig shifted right to left, crossing his arms tight to his chest. As if to mitigate the physical cost of saying the next part out loud. “There is something between me and Chloe. I won’t pretend that isn’t true.”
Harvey slowly closed his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”
“We met at the country club when my truck broke down that night. A lot happened before we... knew. I was shocked to see her playing the harp when I showed up. She didn’t expect me to be your son, either. It’s a fucked-up situation, but...” He had to stop so he could struggle through the detonations going off in his chest. They were being set off by talking about his feelings for Chloe openly. Out loud. God, it felt great. Scary, though, considering it might not make a difference to the man standing in front of him. “But there’s nothing fucked-up or wrong about me and Chloe, okay?”
“Isn’t there?” Harvey snapped.
“No.” Sig shook his head. “It’s the purest thing I’ve ever felt in my life. It’s like I’ve loved her since I took my first breath.”
“Love,” Harvey said flatly. “You love her?”
“I exist for her.” Sig’s lungs shrunk to the size of straws, air scarcely passing through them in a rattle. “I’ve never asked you for anything in my life... Father. I’ll never ask you for anything again. Except for right now. I’m asking you not to marry Sofia. I know you won’t admit out loud that she’s nothing more than a mark to you, but if that’s the case, I’m asking you to please move on. Please. Pick someone else.”
When Sig had admitted to existing for Chloe, he could have sworn his father’s eyes had softened. They were hard now, however. Glittering with irritation in the moonlight. “You still really believe I’m just here to con Sofia out of her money.” Harvey took a stiff step in his son’s direction. “If the heinous shit you believe about me were true, don’t you think Sofia’s high-powered estate lawyer would have found it? Nothing about my past set off alarm bells. The report came back squeaky-clean. Sorry to disappoint you.”
There was Sig’s confirmation. Sofia’s lawyers had concluded their investigation.
Squeaky-clean. Was this man’s depravity all in Sig’s head? No. No, he’d lived through the poverty this man had inflicted on his mother. Experienced it himself.
“Sig, I’m in love with Sofia as much as you’re apparently in love with Chloe.”
Impossible. He couldn’t feel a fraction of this. He wouldn’t even be standing.
Sig didn’t say that out loud. Couldn’t. Hope was slipping through his fingers.
“I’m asking you for the last time,” Sig rasped. “Please.”
“Please call off the wedding to the woman I love?” Harvey scoffed. “No. You can’t ask me to do that. And Chloe’s relationship with Sofia is decent right now, despite what you’ve already done to ruin it, whisking her off to Boston with no warning.” He dropped his voice even lower. “Now, I’m proud of what you’ve done in the hockey world, but you’re a free agent come the end of the season, son. That doesn’t sound like a lot of security. Not like Sofia and this world can offer her. Sofia loves her daughter. But I’ll remind you what kind of shitstorm would erupt if something like this went public. You need to consider how your actions now are going to affect Chloe’s future. Or her relationship with her mother and Darien, in general.”
“Not a minute goes by that I’m not thinking of how everything under the sun affects her,” Sig said through his teeth.
Harvey appeared to be taken aback by his vehemence. “I’m marrying Sofia, Sig. What can you possibly do once that happens? Marry your stepsister ? Jesus, Sig. Pull your head out of your as—”
“Watch yourself,” Sig cut in quietly, causing the man to snap his mouth shut. “You might have the upper hand tonight, but you haven’t earned the right to speak to me like that.”
After a tense moment of eye contact, Harvey broke first, sighing. “I don’t want this to come between us. I don’t want it to come between Chloe and her mother, either.”
Sig studied Harvey hard and asked himself the same question he always did. Was this man genuine or was he all an act? A game player? It irked him that he couldn’t get a read, when he was usually adept at making judgments of someone’s character. Was his head too clouded by the past to see Harvey clearly? Was there an ulterior motive in play here or was it all in Sig’s head? If only his mother didn’t shut down every time Sig tried to speak to her about the past, all the circumstances surrounding her relationship with Harvey, maybe he’d have answers.
“Fair warning, I’ve hired my own investigator. If you have any skeletons in the closet, I’m going to rattle them.” He walked backward toward his truck, maintaining eye contact with Harvey the whole way. “You won’t hear the word ‘please’ from my mouth ever again.”
His father flinched, ever so slightly, but Sig caught it. “You won’t find... anything you can use.”
“We’ll see.” Sig started to climb back into the driver’s side of the truck, but he paused with a growled curse, remembering the other reason he’d driven three hours. “Listen. I need you to get me a blouse out of Chloe’s closet. Black-and-white silk. High, ruffled neck.”
“ What? ” Harvey exclaimed.
“Just do it.”
Ten minutes later, the truck engine blasted to life and Sig got back on the highway to Boston, blouse draped over the passenger seat, the words “you won’t find anything you can use” echoing loudly in his ears.
He refused to believe that was true.
Because if it was, where did that leave him?
Without her. That’s where.
A place he couldn’t fathom being.