Chapter Twenty-Four Maya
Chapter Twenty-Four
Maya
“So this is what it feels like to be a bird.” I placed my hand on the glass and looked down at the thirty-something stories below me, where the people on the sidewalk and the cars on the streets and lights looked no larger than freckles.
I turned just enough to look at Jordan over my shoulder, where he stood behind me with his hands on my waist. A touch I could feel in every part of my body. “You live in the clouds.”
“I prefer to be in the sky rather than on the ground.”
I turned to fully face him. “Why?”
“I don’t like when people are in my business. I didn’t like it when I played for New York, and I like it even less now. So I choose to live all the way up here in a nest.”
I traced the outside of his face, my fingers hitting the roughness of his scruff. “Seems as though your ‘business’ is all over the internet.”
“And now you know why I like the clouds.”
My lips pulled wide. “I thought the security downstairs was going to have to draw my blood before the three extremely large men let me into the elevator.” I leaned up on my tiptoes and kissed him. “Semi-kidding about the blood, not about the men.”
He nuzzled his nose against my cheek, his hands sliding to my lower back, pulling our bodies even closer together.
“I try to keep my personal life as locked down as this fortress, and the same applies for each of my homes. I don’t want paparazzi looking in the windows.
I don’t want unwanted guests showing up at the door.
I’ve worked hard to keep things as private as possible.
Of course, any hacker could find the address to my homes, but it would take an extremely talented burglar to make their way inside, and they’d have to kill several security guards in the process. ”
I shook my head as I looked at him. “I’m sorry . . . homes? As in you have more than one residence?” My brows rose. “I’m stuck on that, even though I’m blown away by everything else you just said.”
He smiled. “Yes. Homes.”
“And where are these other homes?”
“Are you sure you want to know? And it’s not going to freak you out? We can take this information dump slow if you want.”
“No, I think I can handle it.”
He waited a few seconds before he said, “I still have my condo in Manhattan. That was my home for a long time, and I love that place. I’ve thought about selling it, but I’m just not ready to part with it.”
“Do you ever go there?”
“A handful of times a year. Mostly to attend games, especially if Boston is playing New York. I never miss that face-off.” He stretched his fingers down to the top of my butt.
“And I own a house in Windermere Island in the Bahamas. It’s a private island that’s gated.
Unless you’re living there or staying at a rental home, you can’t get in.
And soon”—his hands moved lower, cupping each of my ass cheeks—“you’re going to visit both homes with me.
Maybe I’ll be able to convince you to hit the road with me, since I do travel a lot. ”
“And I’m just going to call in sick to work?” I rolled my eyes and laughed. “While I’m off exploring the world with you?”
“You get vacation time, don’t you?”
“Two weeks, along with five days of personal time.”
The air he released trickled across my face.
“We’ll have to make the most of those three weeks, then.
” He stroked me with his thumb. “I’m hitting you with a lot tonight.
You’re finally seeing my place, connecting your assumptions to the real deal.
You’re hearing about my homes, my traveling schedule.
At some point, I’ll take you downstairs and show you where I house my Porsche collection. ”
My eyes widened. “You have a Porsche collection?” I waited for him to start laughing. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
He nodded.
“My God, Jordan.” I peeked at the glass behind me. “You literally live in the stars. A life that’s more dreamy than a fairy tale.”
“Can you get used to that?” His face leaned toward mine, his hands now surrounding my mouth. “Because this is who I am. This is how I live my life. I need you to know that, Maya. And I need you to know what to expect.”
“Like?”
He chuckled. “Like I don’t fuck with airports.
I fly private. I have a driver who takes me back and forth to work and wherever I need to go.
I bounce between my three homes, and I only stay in luxury five-star hotels when I travel elsewhere.
Do I eat at diners, sure—but for the most part, the places I go are either Michelin rated or the highest sought-after restaurants in the area.
” He paused. “The person whose eyes you’re staring into right now hasn’t changed.
This is who I’ve been all along—you’re just learning about the side you didn’t know.
” He tilted my face up even higher. “I’m the same man who wants to love your entire body.
Who wants to spend every day with you.” His gaze dropped to my lips.
“I need to know if that’s what you want too. ”
I took in the deepest breath, holding in the air while I dug through my brain to find a starting point.
Because this was definitely a lot. “When you walked out onto the ice at the Bears game and then I plugged your name into Google that night and learned, not only about the NHL but about your career as a Worthington, I had a feeling we lived in very different worlds. I mean . . . you’re a billionaire.
Nothing you’ve said should really surprise me. ”
“But it did.”
I sighed. “Three homes?” I let out a small laugh. “Yes, I’m still surprised by all of it. Why, I don’t know. It’s not like I expected you to live in a building like mine and take the T or the bus to work.”
“But there’s nothing wrong with any of that either.”
“No. There isn’t.”
His thumbs pressed into my cheeks. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
“I know.” My hands lowered to his chest. “I think part of what you’re asking is not only can I handle your level of wealth, but can I move on from what drove us apart.
” His gaze intensified as I continued, “And the answer to that is yes. I’m much happier with you than I am without you.
Our worlds are vastly different, and yours just happened to intertwine with mine in a not-so positive way in the past, but I can’t blame you for that.
” My head tilted, and I gave him a grin.
“I believe what you said about your family. I don’t think they would intentionally try to ruin anyone’s life.
It was an unfortunate event that I need to move on from.
And . . . maybe if it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be who I am today. That’s the way I need to look at it.”
He pressed his lips to my forehead and kissed me, breathing me in several times before he pulled back. “I think what I hear you saying is that . . . you’re mine.”
His question was serious; I just couldn’t help but giggle. “I think that’s what I’m saying, yes.”
The words were barely out of my mouth before he kissed me. Before he pushed my back against the wall of glass and ravaged my mouth in a way that I knew he was just getting started. Before his tongue slipped in and took hold of me in a way that I’d missed. And in a way that made me moan.
“Fuck me,” he groaned. “If I keep that up, we’re not going to have dinner, and I spent a long time on that meal.”
“I can smell it. Whatever it is, it’s making my stomach growl.”
“Beef Wellington.” He hid a smile. “In full transparency, I have a chef. He comes several times a week and prepares all my meals and juices, even my almond and cashew milks he makes from scratch. He’s the man of my kitchen since I’d rather spend those hours running or at the gym or at the office or relaxing.
But tonight, I wanted to do something a little different. ”
“Are you saying . . . you cooked?”
“I did.”
“And what made you want to do that?”
He was wearing his contacts tonight, and the dark circles beneath his green eyes were almost gone. “If I’m being honest, it’s not a lot of fun to cook for myself, but I do enjoy it.” He pressed his nose against mine. “You’re the first woman I’ve ever cooked for.”
I batted my lashes. “I feel extremely honored.”
“Don’t say that yet. You haven’t tried it.”
I laughed. “If it tastes anything like it smells, I’m going to love it.”
He grabbed my hand. “It just needs to be cut. Everything else is ready. Come on, let’s eat.”
I squeezed his hand and stilled my feet, causing him to turn around. “Before we do that, I have a favor to ask.”
“Anything.”
“You’ve shown me most of your condo, I believe, but what I haven’t seen is any of your hockey stuff. I have to think you have something here that will show me what that period of your life looked like.”
“Yes, I certainly have plenty of that.” He chuckled.
“You know, when we went skating and you talked about the retired players whose jerseys hung from the ceiling of the arena, I realized it’s far more than just a sport to you. And you’re more than just a player—you’re a fan too.”
He nodded. “It’s been my entire life for a very long time.”
“And it’s part of you I don’t really know much about aside from what I’ve read.” I paused. “Will you introduce it to me?”
The smile on his face was as big as when I’d confirmed that I was his. “There’s nothing I’d love more.”
With my hand in his, he brought me toward the front of his condo and up a set of stairs that I hadn’t noticed when I first came in.
The room at the top was a loft, the backside overlooking the living room, and what it had been converted into was the ultimate man cave, with a large brown leather sectional in the middle facing a wall of multiple flat-screen TVs.
There was a projector and a popcorn machine and a full candy display and a bar that had a soda fountain and beer taps and shelves of liquor behind it.
But the attraction for me—and for Jordan, I was sure—was what covered the walls.
“In here is everything I’ve collected since I was a kid.
Jerseys I’ve had signed. Sticks used by my idols.
Pucks from Stanley Cup games. Rings I’ve been given for winning the Stanley Cup.
This stuff isn’t just from a career in hockey—this is everything I’ve been able to compile as a true lover of the sport. ”
Every framed jersey and stick and puck and ring display had lights shining over them as though they were works of art in a gallery.
“I can see how deep that love runs,” I told him. “One day, the names on those jerseys will make sense to me and I’ll look at these walls in awe, like I’m sure you do. But for right now, I’m in awe of you.”
He kissed the top of my head. “You don’t have to love a sport just because I do.”
“But I want to. I want to learn about the things you’re passionate about, the things you’re absolutely in love with, and I want to fall in love with them too.”
“Then let me show you what every hockey player dreams of and only a few ever achieve.”
He brought me over to the cabinet of rings, unlocking the glass to take one out.
“This is the ring from the last Stanley Cup my team won, which was the last game I played in.” He turned the ring so I could see each of the sides and put it back in the cabinet.
“If you want to know the truth, all that is, to me, is an award. Sure, I’m happy as fuck that I have three rings total.
But what I hold on to are the memories and my teammates and the feeling of being on that ice. ”
I put my hands on his shoulders. “Why did you retire? I get the feeling you didn’t want to.”
“No player ever wants to retire. We live and die for our sport. But my body can’t handle that level of play anymore.
Hockey is for the young, and even though thirty-three—or thirty-one, when I retired—isn’t old, it’s ancient when it comes to that sport.
A body can only tolerate so much exertion, and mine was reaching its limit.
I made the choice to leave before my body made the choice for me. ”
“I hate that for you.”
He pressed his lips to my forehead and whispered, “I’m grateful for the time I did get to play.”
“I’m assuming you could have just retired, that you didn’t technically need to go to work for the family business?”
“It wasn’t for financial reasons, no. I’ve earned enough money from the NHL that I would never have to work another day.
But I have so much more in me, and sitting on my ass at home isn’t how I want to spend the remainder of my life.
” He wrapped his arms around me. “My job at Worthington Enterprises is strictly on the sports side. Given my history, I bring a completely different outlook to the way our teams are managed and how our stadiums and arenas operate. That’s what I do on a daily basis, and that’s the corporate bullshit I was hinting at when I was trying to avoid talking about my employer. ”
“‘Your employer.’” I snorted. “You are the employer.”
“Well, my father is above me, so I’m not the top dog.”
I fell against his chest and looked up at his face. “Essentially, what you’re saying—and what you wanted to say before and felt like you couldn’t—is that you’re a total badass on the ice and in the office.”
“I fucking love hearing those words come out of your mouth.” He looked down, and his lips hovered over mine. “And now I want to see how they taste on your tongue.”