Chapter 3 Beatrice
BEATRICE
If you’d asked me yesterday if I would still be out at this time, I’d have laughed in your face and told you I was too old for that.
But tonight, after Prosecco at the restaurant, beer at the game, and then shots at the last two clubs, I’m pretending that I’m twenty-one again and letting go.
Hell knows I need it. The last few months have been a lot. And this…fuck, this is everything.
I throw my hands above my head as an old favorite booms through the speakers. The need to head straight for the dance floor burns through me, but I don’t divert from our group and instead follow them to the bar for more drinks.
Thankfully, Sienna doesn’t order shots this time, and only a few minutes later, I’m standing with a vodka and Coke in hand, my back to the bar, surveying everyone.
“I haven’t been here for years,” I shout to Rachel and Savvy.
“You know why we're here, don’t you?” Savvy shouts back.
I’m about to shake my head when movement above their heads catches my eye.
The VIP area.
Holy shit. Did they discover where the hockey team ended up?
Following my line of sight, Savvy starts nodding.
“Calvin Keller posted about thirty minutes ago that they’re here,” Savvy confirms.
I look around again and notice the women around us easily outnumber the men six to one. I guess that should have been my first clue.
“Come on, let’s dance,” Sienna says before hooking her arm through mine and dragging me toward the dance floor. My drink sloshes over the edge and spills over my feet, ensuring I slip in my shoes.
I shriek as I stumble forward and into some unsuspecting person.
“I’m so sorry,” I say while Sienna and the girls laugh.
I probably should remember at some point that I’m their boss. I’m meant to be the sensible, level-headed one they can look up to.
Yeah. I can try and be that again tomorrow.
Tonight, I need to let go. I need to forget about everything that keeps my muscles tight and my stomach knotted.
Tonight, there is no pressure or stress. There is no business to worry about. There is just friendship, laughter, and dancing.
Lots and lots of dancing.
We find a space, form a circle, and set about dancing as if our lives depend on it.
My skin is slick with sweat, my hair sticking to my neck, and I’m pretty sure my makeup is running down my face, but for the first time in a very long time, I don’t care.
My only concern is what song is going to be next.
As one tune blends into another, time seems to stop existing. I’m in this perfect moment that I never want to end with some of my favorite people around me.
These girls…they mean everything to me. Every single day, they make me smile. When things aren’t going my way, they pick me up and encourage me forward. I honestly don’t know where I’d be without them.
A few guys attempt to dance with us—mostly Sienna, seeing as she’s still wearing her birthday crown. It seems this is an invitation for them to try their luck at making it a night she’ll never forget. She doesn’t show any interest in any of them, though.
That all changes a couple of songs later, when a hot and hard body steps up behind me, putting his hands on my hips.
I’m about to shrug him off like I have the others when four sets of eyes widen.
My heart jumps into my throat, and my suspicions are confirmed a few moments later when a couple of vaguely familiar, huge guys step up behind my friends.
Hot breath rushes over my ear and down my neck before a deep voice rasps, “How about we take this to the VIP area?”
Tingles skitter down my spine, and my heart begins to race.
“I-I think we’re okay here,” I say, although I doubt he can hear it over the music.
His grip on me tightens, as if he’s going to physically drag me there. I’m ready to fight, although I’m not sure I’m ready to spin around and look at him.
I close my eyes, wondering how his face looks now. Has the bruising around his eye darkened? Has the cut in his lip stopped bleeding?
I gasp as he leans in closer, letting the hard planes of his body press against my softer ones.
“Aw, there’s no need to be shy, sweetheart,” he says, moving so close that his lips brush my ear.
I fight to keep my reaction to myself, but I fear he feels the violent shiver that rips through me.
“You know you want to dance with me.”
His arrogance has fire shooting straight through my veins.
Without thinking, I let the alcohol control my body and spin around in his hold.
I glare up at him, desperately trying to ignore the fact that up close, he’s even better looking than he was out on the ice.
His bleached hair is lighter now that it’s not soaked with sweat, and despite it looking like he’s spent hours styling it, something tells me he hasn’t.
The scruff covering his jaw and cheeks is the perfect length not to scratch but also not tickle when he’s…
nope. Don’t go there. Do not think about this man anywhere between your legs.
And then there’s the ink that creeps from beneath his shirt and wraps around his neck.
If I were to glance down, I’m pretty sure I’d find similar artwork on his forearms, too.
As my heart races, it’s impossible to ignore the way it beats between my legs.
Get a grip, Bea.
Who cares if your vagina hasn’t seen any action in…more months than we are willing to admit to.
One hot, arrogant hockey player is not going to be the one to end the drought.
Nope. Nope. Not a chance.
His words repeat in my head, and a laugh bubbles out of me.
“You really think you’re something, don’t you?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think, sweetheart. I know.”
“Wow. Just…wow.”
But despite my reaction, he doesn’t back away. In fact, it only makes him try harder.
He reaches out and tucks a lock of my messy hair behind my ear. His touch burns, and my face heats as his eyes continue to hold mine.
It might be dark in here, save for the strobe lights, but I can still see just how bright his blue eyes are.
They’re mesmerizing. They’re—
Nope.
This man screams bad boy.
If I were to look behind him, I’d probably find a trail of broken hearts that wraps around the block and then further still.
And sadly, Sienna was right earlier when she said Everett Donnelly is my type.
I hate to admit it, and I’ve spent years trying to change it, but bad boys who break my heart are exactly my type.
I think it comes from years of rebelling against the life I was born into, or at least that’s what I’ve convinced myself a therapist would say.
My go-to is always to do what I know Mom wouldn’t approve of just to provoke a reaction.
And apparently, that need hasn’t lessened as I’ve turned into an independent adult.
“I’m really okay. I’m with the girls tonight, so—”
“You might want to double-check that,” he says smugly, jerking his chin over my shoulder.
I take a moment before I turn around to look at my friends dancing with his. I don’t know who Sienna is dancing with, but she sure looks like she’s living her best life right now, with his giant hands resting low on her hips as she grinds back against him.
“You wouldn’t want to ruin the birthday girl’s night, would you?”
My hands curl into fists.
“You know, you are exactly the kind of man I thought you were,” I seethe.
“Hot and totally fuckable?”
“The cockiest jerk on the planet.”
“I have a special kind of hatred for fake people, sweetheart. What you see with me is exactly what you get.” He leans closer, and I attempt to take a step back, but he sees the move coming.
Wrapping one thick arm around my back, he drags me forward so I’m pressed up against him and his lips are next to my ear. “And tonight, I want you.”
I pull back so I can look at him. “Well, we can’t always get what we want, can we?”
“I’m not sure about everyone else, but I always do. And right now, I’m taking you up to the VIP area.”
“Oh, no. I’m not going up there with—”
“Bea, we’re going upstairs,” Sienna shouts, her voice slurred but happy. When I look up, I find her attached to a hockey player, a wide, excited smile on her lips.
“Yeah, Bea. We’re going upstairs,” Everett mimics before taking my hand and leading me toward the roped-off stairs.
Sure, there’s a part of me that wants to plant my feet into the ground and refuse point-blank to go with him. But I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t another part that’s more than happy to spend the rest of my night living the VIP life with a bunch of hot, wealthy hockey players.
Life could certainly be worse, right?
Leaving my common sense and my inhibitions on the bottom step, I allow Everett to lead me up to where the rest of the team and their inner circle are hanging out.
Rachel, Lessy, and Savvy follow us up the stairs, each attached to a different player.
Without their names branded across their backs, I have no idea who they are. I might have learned a lot tonight, but it’s only Everett I could pick out of a crowd, and I’m yet to decide if that’s a good thing or not.
I suspect the latter, but I’m happy to reserve full judgment for a little while at least.
“Would you like a drink?” he asks when we’re at the top of the stairs.
“Shots!” Sienna screams before racing to the bar.
“Seems like the queen has spoken,” Everett teases before bringing me to a stop beside my best friend.
He steps up behind me, his hand still on my hip as if he’s scared I might try running off.
Honestly, if my sensible side hadn’t already been drowned in alcohol, then I probably would. But I already know that in these heels, and with a professional athlete behind me, I’d stand no chance of getting away.
Although now that I think about it…maybe attempting to get away would be fun…
Something tells me he’d chase me.
Fuck knows why. I have no doubt that a man like Everett Donnelly could have any woman in this place he wanted.
So why does he want me?
My racing thoughts are shattered when a shot glass appears in front of me.
Don’t do it. It’ll lead to bad decisions.
But it doesn’t matter how loud the voice in my head is; I ignore it. It’s been a long time since I drowned it out and let my body take the lead.
“Good girl,” Everett rasps in my ear, making me shudder again.
What is it about his voice that makes me react every single time?
“You just want me drunk,” I accuse.
“No, actually, I don’t. I just want you to let go of whatever is stopping you from having fun.
You might think you have me figured out already, but I don’t go after wasted women who don’t know what they're doing.” The tip of his nose brushes the edge of my ear.
“It would be a travesty if she didn’t remember exactly how good it was the next morning. ”