Chapter 1 #2
When he turns for the ball, the phoenix tattoo with a dramatic tail and wings, which rises from the hollow of his back to his shoulders, blazes in the sun.
Eden truly has risen from the ashes.
Now, I am part of his story, and although each of us deal with trauma in different ways, I want to fly into the future with them, no matter how tough things may become.
“Prince of Rebels.” D’Angelo grimaces. “Prince of the English more like. I should have installed an American football field.”
“Unfortunately, this mansion has been invaded. It is now fifty percent British territory.”
D’Angelo’s eyes widen. “We’ll be converted next. I’m already drinking Earl Grey and becoming more dryly sarcastic.”
“And now we’re watching soccer.”
I snuggle closer to D’Angelo.
I enjoy the dance of Eden’s muscles, as he tackles Shay. His mouth tightens, however, and he squints against the light.
Is Eden hiding his pain? Should he stop playing?
D’Angelo stiffens. “We should check with your brother whether Eden needs more physiotherapy sessions or to see the hospital consultant again.”
“I’ll call Cody,” I agree. “Have you noticed that Shay is holding back?”
“I thought that was just him tackling like an accident-prone puppy.” D’Angelo huffs a laugh. “He goes for goals more dramatically than when he’s begging to be allowed to come.”
True.
I snort, turning to watch the match again.
Eden has managed to get hold of the ball. He’s handling it like a bomb that’s going to detonate at any moment.
Shay easily takes it from his brother with a grin, dribbling toward the net.
He plays with the ball with the joy of a tease. He flirts with the ball with light touches, seducing it toward a second goal.
Shay cheers, casting a furtive glance at D’Angelo and me to check that we saw.
I politely clap.
“You know that he’s putting on a show for us, principessa.” D’Angelo rests his hand high on my thigh. His fingers splay just short of where I want them to be. My skin tingles. “Shall we put on a show for them?”
“Uh-huh.” I arch my back, as he slides his fingers under my dress and rubs lightly — cruelly lightly — over my clothed crotch.
I can’t help grinding against him, rocking my hips.
“Keep watching the match, principessa.” He pinches me through the lace, and I gasp. “They’re playing hard for your attention.”
“Yours as well, Sir.”
The Sir is weaponized because I know how much it will affect D’Angelo.
How hard it will make him.
I feel his smile, as well as the silky brush of his curls against my cheek, as his fingers start their maddening circling motions again.
“They always want that.” Damn D’Angelo’s smugness.
He’s right though.
Shay and Eden are shooting us looks, trying to work out precisely what is going on.
“It’s good for Shay to get out the energy after how challenging the games were this week in the Second Round of the playoffs,” D’Angelo says casually like his hand isn’t under my skirt.
“It was mentally and physically tough. Although, the whole team pulled together under Ty. He’s the perfect Assistant Coach. He doesn’t bully to achieve results.”
“And now, we’re only one round away from reaching the Stanley Cup Final.” Excitement wells through me, but also, fear. I am breathing fast and trying to control it. My cheeks are flushed. “We needed this weekend together, away from the hard work and pressure. Next week is going to be a—”
“Nightmare?” D’Angelo drawls.
“I was going to say a thrilling opportunity. Your team motivational speeches must be inspiring.”
“They are. Zach records them to work out to, Atlas probably listens to them every morning as soon as he wakes up, while Grayson and Lucas—”
“Turn them into memes?”
D’Angelo pulls a face. “The less I think about what Grayson and Lucas do in their spare time, the better I sleep at night.”
“I’d sleep better if…” I catch my breath, as D’Angelo rubs lower down my clothed pussy; the sensation of the lace dragging along my folds, sparks pleasure through me.
I rock harder against him. How can he look so cool and in control?
Unfair. “…if the team you didn’t need to beat this week wasn’t the Pittsburgh Penguins.
My ex-husband’s team may want to take revenge for having their captain suspended. ”
D’Angelo’s expression hardens. “Wilder deserved it. He abused you, me, and other players on the ice. He bullied and blackmailed multiple players behind the scenes. If they want to come for me because I exposed them, then let them. I won’t let it stop the Bay Rebels from taking this chance.”
When D’Angelo rubs his thumb hard over my clit, I come — fast and hard and shockingly unexpected.
I burrow my head on his shoulder, biting on his shirt to smother my shout.
“Good girl.” D’Angelo smooths his free hand over my hair. “You were perfect. So beautiful for me.”
Breathing hard, coming down from the high, I smile.
Then I glance down at D’Angelo’s tented trousers. “Do you want me to…?”
He shakes his head, still stroking my hair. “I just wanted to put on a performance for the twins.”
I blush, peeking at Shay and Eden, who have stopped playing, the soccer ball forgotten between them.
They are staring at me like I am their goddess and they’ve just missed out on worshiping me.
“Keep playing,” D’Angelo calls over to the twins. “You’re talented. Maybe I will watch that Chelsea match with you this week.”
Shay’s face lights up. “I knew that I could convert you to the beautiful game, darlin’. The only true football. Chelsea are the best bloody team.”
Excitedly, he boots the ball past Eden.
I know how much Chelsea mean to Shay as a team. He told us about it over lunch, which Eden cooked with Shay supposedly helping, although that mostly consisted of slicing his thumb open on the potato peeler, spilling the gravy, and cracking an entire jar of English mustard over the floor.
D’Angelo had taken over an hour cleaning the kitchen, which had been disaster zone.
“All my mates were Chelsea supporters,” Shay said, while enthusiastically cutting into his Yorkshire puddings.
“Shit, these are as good as Mum’s, Dee.” Eden glowed with pride.
“It was important at school who you supported. Tribal. Mum and Dad couldn’t give us pocket money, but I loved looking at my mate’s trading cards.
The other kids would be taken by their parents to watch the matches.
But the tickets were too expensive for ours to afford.
I’d love to watch my team play in their stadium one day. ”
“How about I take you, when you take me home to show me around Guildford?” D’Angelo offered, casually.
Shay dropped his knife with a clank onto his plate; gravy splashed onto the table, and D’Angelo tried not to flinch. “You’d be interested in visiting my hometown? It’s nothing special.”
“Everything is special about you to me, cucciolo.”
Now, D’Angelo groans. “See? It’s happened. I’m converted. And he’s calling it football.”
“I guess we better get used to it.”
“We had,” D’Angelo says softly, as if to himself, “since I designed this to be our forever home.”
Forever home?
I freeze.
I want that so fucking much. In my heart, I already feel that Freedom Mansion is my Forever Home.
D’Angelo waited a decade for me, after I married Wilder. This is our second chance. He has never loved another woman…and he never will.
Without thinking, I turn my head and capture his lips. I put every thought of love, hurt, and yearning into the kiss. Immediately, D’Angelo opens his lips, dominating it. He slides his fingers into my hair, holding me in place. I moan at the delicious tug on my scalp.
Then D’Angelo’s tongue entwines with mine, and we are joined, eternally.
I don’t break away until my lungs are burning for air.
Breathing hard, we stare at each other.
“I love you, Jude.” I kiss him again, tenderly.
“I love you, cara mia.” D’Angelo looks vulnerable at my use of Jude in a way that he rarely does.
I clasp his hand in mine.
My heart swells with joy, when the rings that I am wearing, which each of my men gave me, touch the platinum signet ring with a spinning puck on D’Angelo’s finger. I gifted him the signet ring like the sealing of a deal.
He’s stuck with me.
I squirm happily on his lap.
D’Angelo wraps his arm around my waist. “Comfortable?”
“I am now.”
“Hmm.” He arches his brow. “And in our forever home…” He finally looks away from the soccer game and over the mansion instead. “…do you see kids?”
Surprised, I study D’Angelo’s face carefully and realize that he is keeping his expression just as carefully blank.
Yet there is an unmistakable hope in his blue eyes, which he can’t entirely hide.
It wrenches my heart.
“I already have a husband,” I whisper.
D’Angelo closes his eyes for a long moment. His black eyelashes feather across his cheeks.
Then he opens his eyes again, coldly possessive. “Wife.”
He kisses me, as if we are the only two people in the world.
When he releases me, however, panting and dazed, his gaze shoots to Shay. “But do you think that the twins would want to adopt like they once were? After everything that they’ve been through, is it too much to expect?”
“What about everything you’ve been through?”