Chapter 2
TORI
Bennett Steele is ruining my perfectly curated life. One suspended game at a time.
And it’s low-key pissing me off.
I’ve spent the last decade clawing my way up in the financial world, proving myself to every finance bro on Wall Street. And now my dad’s sidelining me for who knows how long in this tiny beach town, tasking me with babysitting an overgrown, cocky man-child who thinks he’s God’s gift to women.
Well, he’s not. Not to me at least.
I want absolutely nothing to do with him. Not his swagger, not his smirk. Not the way he’s treating this entire situation, like it’s a game he’s already winning.
No thank you.
He’s not my type at all. Give me a clean-shaven man in a well-cut Armani suit any day of the week. Someone who respects boundaries and understands professional consequences.
Sure, they’re time-pressed, stressed-out workaholics with egos the size of the Empire State building. And historically have never worked out for me.
Still better than a pro athlete.
I don’t do athletes. Never have, never will.
My family’s owned a professional hockey team as long as I’ve been alive and if there’s one thing I learned early, it’s avoid getting involved with the players. No matter how good-looking they are.
Hockey players are nothing but handsome liabilities.
Full fucking stop.
I pull out my laptop and click the power button, then grab the bottle of Cab from the fridge and pour myself a healthy glass.
It’s been a long fucking day already and I have at least two hours of work to do before I can crash.
My first order of business? Finding someone else to manage the disaster next door.
Because there’s no way I can run a hedge fund and chaperone Bennett Steele simultaneously. And I’ve worked way too hard for this position to let it slip away over some short-sighted babysitting gig my father dreamed up.
Three clicks later, I’ve solved the dilemma.
Nothing a little of daddy’s money can’t fix.
By seven AM tomorrow, Bennett will have two bodyguards ready and willing to cover my warden duties.
They’ll keep me posted on his activities and I’ll only need to show up when absolutely necessary.
Daddy will be none the wiser and I can manage the fund from Driftwood Cove for a bit.
Satisfied, I swirl the wine, dark red streaks running down the inside of the cheap glass.
Yes, this is the perfect plan.
Not even Bennett Steele can fuck this up.
Eight hours later, I’m sitting in the exact same spot at the kitchen table preparing for a Zoom call with investors.
Tipping my head side to side, I smooth a stray hair back into the tight bun and check my reflection.
The morning light’s decent enough and the pile of books my laptop sits on provides a decent angle.
On camera, I’m all business, in a teal silk blouse, a full face of makeup, and my diamond studs.
The table conceals my satin pj shorts and cream fuzzy socks, one of the few perks of working from home.
Buzz, buzz.
I tap ‘connect’ on the screen and smile. “Morning, gentlemen. I’ll keep this tight —performance, drivers, positioning, then Q&A.”
I’m deep into my spreadsheet when a notification pops up on screen: This is Knox. We’re on site.
Right. The bodyguards I hired last night to take care of my new babysitting side gig.
Nodding my head at the screen, I type out a quick response: Keep me posted
“Bottom line: is this repeatable?” The lead investor narrows his eyes and stares directly at the camera, jolting me back to reality. His fingers thrum a one-two beat on a yellow legal pad.
“Absolutely.” I nod, assuring him. “Because it comes from rules, not vibes.”
Ma’am. We have a situation.
The notification dings in the top right of my screen.
For fuck’s sake.
I X out of the message, trying hard to focus on the meeting and stay on track.
“Are you worried about volatility?” Another investor, the short guy on the left, asks.
I don’t hesitate. “Volatility is fine. Unmanaged volatility is not.”
Bang, bang, bang.
The door behind me rattles so hard the table shakes, my laptop vibrating with each pound.
I ignore the loud noise and forge ahead. “We’re protecting downside—”
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rings, insistent. Once, twice, three times.
I don’t flinch. “Without paying for unnecessary insurance.”
Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong.
Good god. Whoever’s there isn’t going away.
“Gentlemen, please excuse me for one moment.” I hit mute, then hop up and march across the room, ripping one AirPod out of my ear.
“What?” I yank the door open to a shirtless Bennett, his sandy waves damp from a shower.
A single droplet of water trickles down his thick neck and I can’t stop my eyes from tracking it all the way to his bare pecs.
He’s broad and tall, with the type of body you can’t help but notice.
Sculpted and strong from all the hours on the ice, a tattoo winking at me on his forearm.
Not that I’m looking for personal reasons. Strictly out of duty.
He’s flanked by two burly men in dark suits, one of whom I assume is Knox.
Staring directly at Bennett’s face, I will myself to look into his shockingly blue eyes and not drift lower.
“Good morning to you too, Sunshine.” He shoots me an exaggerated wink, the corners of his lips turning up in a slow smile.
“What do you want?” I hiss, my voice low. “I’m on an important call.”
“I have edits.” Bennett reaches into his gym shorts pocket and pulls out a folded square of paper, hands it to me.
“What?” I unfold the paper as quickly as possible, red ink popping off the page. The man’s marked up every single rule.
“Figure this is more like a negotiation. That’s what you do, right?” He cocks a brow, smirking, and Knox and the other bodyguard half-snicker. I shoot each of them a dagger glare before turning my attention to Bennett.
“Sure, something like that. Listen—”
Behind me, there’s a muffled sound. “Tori—are you still with us?”
Shit. The lead investor’s beckoning me back and this entire scenario is beyond unprofessional.
I tap on my AirPod, unmuting. “Yes, I’m here. One more second…” Then I double-tap again and glower at Bennett.
“I’m in the middle of a meeting. We’ll have to talk about this later.”
He frowns, popping his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “The warden’s too busy for me? I’m hurt.” His hands clasp together over his heart and I scowl.
“Later—” I try to shut the door, but I’m not fast enough. Bennett’s large hand flies out and catches the knob. He leans in, his face inches from mine, his mouth hovering at my ear.
“Cute look. I dig it,” he whispers, his warm breath on my skin sending chill bumps skittering down my neck.
He smells clean and fresh, like an alpine meadow, and I’m aggravated my traitorous heart kicks up to double-speed.
“Wall Street up top, party on the bottom.” He grins down at my pj bottoms, and my face heats.
Crap. I forgot about the pjs. I’m certain they caught at least a glimpse of my Zoom outfit when I hopped up from my chair.
“Go. Away.” I grit out the words, shoving him and his inflated ego out of my condo.
“Tori—is someone there?” The investor’s voice echoes through the room, and Bennett leans in closer, like he owns the doorway. The investor doesn’t wait for my response. “We’ll reschedule. Send the investment deck.”
The call drops and I bite back my fury.
“Better get on that email, Sunshine. Practice starts at nine.”