76. RAE
76
I still remember the first time I walked into this club.
An eighteen-year-old with a know-it-all attitude, cursing my uncle Johnny and determined to make him regret that he ever had the balls to drag me to Los Angeles.
She was a piece of work .
I liked her.
Unfortunately, the rest of the world didn’t feel the same.
“Destined to fail,” Johnny once said.
He was bluffing, pushing the right buttons to put my ass in gear. And being as competitive as I am, I accepted the challenge he laid out for me.
I’ll prove them all wrong, I said to myself.
And I did.
Working as a PR Specialist for the LA Knights was both a pain and a joy, but I thrived in it for the last couple years.
The strobe light blurs my vision as I enter the balmy venue, and I blink a few times to adjust my eyes until it settles back to an alternation of bright colors. My body vibrates with the loud music as the sweet fog of the smoke machine drifts into my nose before I finally find my uncle Johnny at the far end of the bar.
A hand reaches up, and a smile forms on his face when I meet his gaze. He has the same sandy blond hair as I do with a smirk that melts most women to the floor as soon as he gives them even a spark of attention. His back is leaning against the bar top, with Robert Davis, my future ex-boss, right beside him.
Together, they look like the epitome of success, filled with authority with their expensive suits and Ivy League haircuts. Both men hold a clear resemblance, easily passing as brothers if you didn’t know who they were.
Adjusting my satin top, I make my way over to the bar, my hips moving with every step I take in my black heels.
“Gentlemen.” A smile slides in place as I give both of them a nod in greeting, eyeing the empty shot glasses in front of them.“Is this the example you want to be setting for your staff, Mr. Davis?” I wink.
There’s a hint of a sharp spirit lingering around, and my nose wrinkles at the biting attack.
An amused salt-and-pepper frown knits his brows together on his fifty something forehead. “We won the Stanley Cup; we’re allowed to celebrate. Besides, I own this club, but you’re right,” he agrees, then a fake scowl washes over his face. “Johnny, behave yourself.”
Johnny’s blue eyes snap to me with a glare.
“Thanks for throwing me under the bus, kid.” He hides a tiny smile as he takes a sip of his whiskey, before I tug it out of his hands and finish it.
The sigh that follows is deep, yet filled with amusement, as recognition of my cheeky mood flashes in his features.
“No problem. So, where’s mine?” I ask, moving my head back and forth between the two men while I set the glass back on the bar.
“You drink?” Mr. Davis poses the question with a glint of excitement in his coffee-brown eyes as he raises his hand in the air, holding three fingers up to the bartender. “For the last five years, you wouldn’t even touch a glass of wine in my presence. On your last night, you're asking for shots ?”
I shrug. “Sorry, sir. I take my job seriously. Besides, we both know hockey players come with drama. I had to be sharp twenty-four seven.”
“Not gonna argue there.” He grabs the freshly poured shots from the bar and hands me one as Johnny gives me a proud look that hits me straight in the chest, forming a lump in the back of my throat.
I’m going to fucking miss him.
Ignoring the sudden emotion, I raise the shot in the air. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” They respond in unison, before we all throw our heads back when the glasses touch our lips.
Ugh. Tequila.
I hate Tequila.
The liquid burns through my body and my stomach roars in response while both men do their best to keep a straight face. My eyes go moist, albeit for a completely different reason this time.
Shivering, I eagerly grab a lime wedge from the dish on the bar to replace the bad taste.
“You did a damn good job, though, sweetheart.” Mr. Davis continues when he is able to relax his face again. “I’m sorry to see you leave. Are you sure I can’t make you another offer? Maybe throw a new car in the mix?” He winks, referring to the black company SUV I’ve been driving since I started working for the team.
He never admitted it through the years, but I know Johnny pulled a few strings as a peace offering after basically kidnapping me, and when I handed in my resignation, I was sad to see it go.
But last week, Johnny had a big smirk on his face when he handed me the registration papers with my name on it.
“Happy birthday,” he said.
And the uncle of the year award goes to...
“How about you buy me another shot and I’ll think about it?” I playfully bump my shoulder against Mr. Davis’s.
“Oh, God. She’s really not on the job anymore.” Johnny shakes his head as Mr. Davis drums his fingers on the bar top, his lips curled.
“You heard the girl,” he calls out to the bartender. “Three more!”
The corner of my mouth rises in an evil grin, glancing at Johnny who playfully shakes his head. Mr. Davis hands me another shot and gives the other to Johnny. “Now, sweetheart, I like to see this wild side of yours, but don’t fall off your expensive shoes. Okay?”
I softly chuckle, bringing the glass to my lips, and I again feel the tequila surging through my body. My stomach hurls in defense, telling me it’s not on the same page as my head, but I’m not the one to back out of a challenge.
“Don’t you worry about me, sir. I’m stronger than I look.” I slam the glass on the bar, then put another lemon wedge in my mouth.
The sour taste shuts my eyes instantly, and I let out a small shriek to pump myself up as the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. They follow my example, and Mr. Davis shudders when the liquid flows through his body, a pinched look on his face.
“You’re not working for me anymore; you can call me Bob,” he orders, his expression still tense from the shot. “You want another one?”
He looks from Johnny to me, and we both nod in agreement, even though there’s a possibility my stomach isn’t on board with the idea.
“I have to warn you, Bob. You do realize she’s related to me?” A warning flashes in my uncle's eyes, combined with an amused smirk that matches mine. “My niece can do this all day without so much as waggling an inch in her high heels.”
My tolerance for alcohol used to piss him off when I was still a teenager, as I used it to my advantage all too often, though it still got me in a shit ton of trouble. But now, a proud glint is visible in his eyes as I survey the people around us to see if anyone heard him calling me niece out of habit.
Being the niece of the General Manager of the LA Knights and getting free passes is one thing. Being the niece and getting a very high paying, most sought-after job without any credentials?
Yeah, not something the entire world needs to know.
Before you know it, I’ll be eaten by all the media sharks this city is crowded with. It has already been enough of a hit to my ego that it was the sole reason I got the job, having barely finished high school before Johnny took me to LA with him.
So, I overcompensated.
I worked my ass off, didn’t ask for any favors, and made sure no one ever questioned me. Considering Robert Davis just asked me to stay, I think I have succeeded with flying colors.
“You’re shitting me.” Robert’s wide-eyed gaze moves from me to Johnny in total disbelief.
“I will deny it if you ever tell anyone, but yeah. She can drink like a sailor.” Johnny shrugs, then brings the shot to his lips. “Frustrates the hell out of my sister. Gave us quite the worry when she was a teenager.”
I breathe out a laugh.
Rebel Rae, they used to call me.
It started out as a joke from Johnny when I was fifteen and convinced the entire class to skip the last period to go to the riverbank instead. Cheeky stuff like that still pulled a silent chuckle from most of my family after I faced the consequences. But by the time I hit eighteen, alcohol and drugs were part of daily life, and the only one still laughing was me.
I cock an eyebrow, making it clear I have no desire to give my boss an opening to learn more about my troubled teenage years.
In the last five years, I tucked that version of me away, as far as possible, making sure she’d never show her face.
Mimicking him, I take the last shot in my hands and raise it up in the air.
“Cheers.” I beam, repeating the move once more.
The sharp taste hits the back of my throat, and goosebumps trickle onto my arms.
“Okay, next time you are in LA, we are going out. We’ll have some fun, and you can show me exactly how much you can handle.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me with a cheerful smile, the professional distance now completely gone.
Johnny punches his arm. “That’s my niece, you perv.”
Mr. Davis throws his hands up in the air, placating. “I was talking about dancing or something.”
He turns his head to me. “I mean no offense. You’re beautiful, honey, but you’re a little too young. Besides, wife number four is already in the making.” His boyish gleam holds mine before his attention is grabbed by something behind me.
“In fact, there she is right now. Johnny, Ms. Stafford, this was fun, but if you will excuse me?’’ He taps Johnny on the shoulder, giving me a quick nod, then walks over to a gorgeous exotic woman with long black hair, her voluminous curves wrapped in a fiery red dress.
I watch how he gives her a longing hug, and she returns it with a shy smile, like a woman in love, her cheeks turning a soft pink.
“Why is it that he is already working on his fourth wife, and you didn’t even make it to number one?” I mock, turning back to Johnny.
“Because he’s rich enough to afford four divorces,” he snorts, then orders two rums, neat.
“Well, you could at least afford two.”
“I could, but then what would you inherit when I die?” he counters, grabbing his tumbler while handing me the other.
“Good point. Don’t marry. Ever .”
Johnny was only seventeen when I was born, and I’m the baby sister he never had. And with him being only forty years old now, he is the big brother I always wanted.
After working together for the last five years, we grew closer. In fact, he’s the only person who knows me underneath my thick skin and sunshine smile that gets me through the day.
A brief smile reaches his face until it changes into a slight scowl as he looks at something over my head, and automatically I turn in curiosity. Cursing myself, I let out a grunt when my lying ex-boyfriend stands behind me with that lopsided grin of his that used to heat my panties within seconds.
He’s looking hot as always in his white t-shirt that’s perfectly hugging his hard chest. He is fit, tall, and with his thick brown hair and piercing blue eyes, he looks like a fucking Disney prince. I can still acknowledge he’s handsome as fuck, but I have too much pride to give him the satisfaction of letting him know that.
I twist my body back to Johnny in annoyance.
Johnny exhales loudly, then reaches out his hand to Sean with a fabricated smile while I finish my drink in one go, knowing I’m gonna need it.
“Kent, having a good time?” he asks, feigning sincerity.
Sean’s arm wraps around my neck, his nutty signature cologne enveloping me while I suppress the urge to shrug him off.
It used to turn me on like crazy.
Now it just makes me want to gag.
“I am, thanks.” He takes Johnny’s hand, a satisfied tone in his voice, and I don’t have to look up to see the big smirk he surely has on his face. “Can I talk to Rae for a second?”
Johnny finds my eyes, silently asking me for confirmation, and I bite my lip in indignation, giving him a short nod.
Johnny hates him. He never liked him because of his super star attitude on the team, but Sean’s behavior toward me only made that worse.
You don’t go cheating on the General Manager’s niece and not expect to become number one on his shitlist.
“You have three minutes, Sean. Three.” Not being able to stand his touch any longer, I jerk his arm off and place my back against the bar. Johnny nods to Sean, slamming his shoulder in that way men do, but with a little more force than necessary, then he quietly walks away.
“What do you want?” The irritation runs through my veins, while I try to keep a composed stance, along with a hard smile on my face to keep up appearances.
I already wasted enough nights waiting for him, and the only reason I’m giving him a chance to speak is because I want to avoid making a scene.
And this superstar jackass will definitely make a scene if I won’t even talk to him.
His chin dips, then he bites his lower lip in a smoldering attempt as one of his hands slips around my waist.
“Are you still mad, babe?” he coaxes, the backs of his fingers softly stroking the skin on my upper arm at a calculated pace.
“Not mad, just not interested. I’m over it.”
Really, I’m fuming .
“So, you are really leaving?” He tilts his head a little with a sparkle of disbelief in his light blue eyes, almost as if he’s offended I actually am serious about this.
“Yes, I’m leaving tomorrow.”
He moves my body closer, tucking the braid hanging over my shoulder before gently pushing back a strand of my blonde hair behind my ear.
His breath fans my cheek and his hand caresses my skin. It used to make me weak in the knees, sparking the lust he fueled with his touches. Now it’s disgusting because I can’t even guess how many girls he touched before he would come home to me.
“Come on. S tay . We can still make this work. You can move in with me. I’m really sorry, babe. You know I only want you.”
I snort. “Not true. There is a whole list of skanks you want.”
“I’m sorry. Really. ”
He’s just sorry he got caught.
I shake my head, slapping his hand away with a warning glare.
“I’m sure you are, but like I said, I’m not interested anymore.” I meet his pleading gaze with a phony smile. “Let it go, Sean. Go have a drink with your friends. I’m done. We’re done. The longer we’re seen together, the sooner TMZ will be announcing we’re a thing again.’’
He wraps a hand around the back of my neck and hoovers his lips above mine, making it hard for me to stay calm and collective. The aggravation is building up in my stomach, and I close my eyes to make sure I don’t do anything stupid before he finds out Rebel Rae was known for more than just substance abuse.
“But we are a thing, babe,” he whispers, a seductive flame dancing in his gaze.
He leans in, brushing my cheek with his lips. I wait for the tingling to start, combined with the weightlessness his kisses used to give me every time our bodies connected, but all that’s left is disappointment. An explosive emotion if you combine it with the agitation that’s settling in my chest.
“We were a thing, Sean. Past tense,” I retort, slowly but firmly pushing him a few steps back. “But that wasn’t enough for you.”
I have a hard time keeping a straight face, not willing to give him the pleasure of watching me lose control. But really, I’m a ticking time bomb and he’s holding the remote to detonate.
“You know, it’s insulting that you actually think I would still want to be with someone who cheated on me for months. I’m better than that , and I’m sorry that you just found out now, but you are too late, Sean. Congratulations on winning the Cup.”
I pivot past him, refusing to look at him for another second. The jackass might have a whole harem waiting for him, but I sure as fuck won’t be part of it any longer.
But he’s a persistent motherfucker, always has been. It’s the reason we started dating in the first place.
He snatches my wrist, tugging me back. Instantly aggravation builds, my eyes shut while my heart starts to race at a frightening pace, as I can feel my muscles tense.
“Rae, baby, stop fighting it, we both know—” His words are lost in the echo of my hand slapping his cheek, a sound that rings in my ear like the bells of Santa on Christmas morning.
My palm burns when it connects with his skin, but it's a good burn.
A glorious one .
One I’ve been dying to experience since the moment I walked into the locker room and found him pounding the latest intern.
I’ve been the star of self-control for the last few years. It was a skill I needed to learn to be able to do my job in the right way, working with cocky athletes, and that only grew more and more with experience.
Dealing professionally with my deceitful ex was nothing I couldn’t handle for the last few weeks. But since my ass is getting the hell out of Dodge within the next twelve hours, I don’t have to behave accordingly anymore.
I will never accept infidelity.
His eyes close for a second, a growl rumbling in this throat before he snaps them open again. Seduction is replaced with anger and confusion, but mostly something vile I was too blind to see when we first started dating.
His eyebrows draw close together, and for a second, I think he might return the favor.
“Let. Go,” I order, my tone quiet but menacing. My heart is slamming against my ribcage, as if it’s trying to find a way out of my body, fueled by adrenaline.
His hand stays wrapped around my wrist, and when I look up he clenches his jaw, like he’s about to lose his calm.
I smirk in question, silently daring him.
His eyes quickly glance at the people around us, then he mutters something I can’t really hear before he finally releases me. A pleading yet angry look stares back at me as he runs a hand through his brown hair, but before any more stupid words roll off his lips I cut him off.
“We’re done, Sean.” I end the conversation, then stride away from him, prancing toward the restroom to calm my nerves.
Those three tequila shots should have made my nerves totally numb but the burst of energy rushing through my veins erased any effect it had three minutes ago.
I take big steps with my chin held high, but I’m burning up inside, feeling like my organs are being liquified. That felt exhilarating, but also triggered a wave of shame I don’t really want to let out right now.
I stroll past the VIP deck until I reach the hall that leads to the bathrooms, when a rough hand claps my wrist once more.
Damn you, Sean.
“What the—” I mutter while my anger rises to an ultimate high. Twisting around, a growl escapes my throat, not hesitating to slap him one more time.
But instead, I freeze, my heart dropping to the floor when I look into a set of unexpected blue-gray eyes. They give me this intense stare, as if he can look right through me, and I suck in a deep breath while my heart rate speeds up again.
Brown hair sits messily on his head, in big contrast with his blue button-up shirt that hugs his athletic physique in a breathtaking way. His tattooed arms look chiseled from under his rolled up sleeves, and I swallow away the dryness in my throat.
Jared James Jensen.
Best defender of the LA knights, hot as fuck, and another royal pain in my fucking ass. He is the epitome of your all-American athlete; handsome, arrogant, violent on the ice, trash-talking, cheating asshole. Add his politician dad in the mix and he’s untouchable.
I glance back and forth between him and the scowling girl who’s still tangled with half his body. Her hand is pressed flat against his chest, standing between his legs while his hand is still tightly wrapped around my wrist.
The scorching feeling of his fingers against my skin makes my cheeks feel flushed for a different reason than the anger Sean just ignited, and I frown, trying to pull myself together before I forget how I really feel about Jensen.
Because just like my cheating ex, I can’t stand him.