Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Rebel Arena, Freedom
D’Angelo
I stand in the cold, narrow corridor in Rebel Arena, facing the door.
I glare at the neat brass plaque:
Silas Anderson, Finance Manager
From the moment that my beautiful Robyn blurted out her brother’s name, while she lay recovering from being ravaged as the twins’ prize, I’d known that I would be called in to have my ass kicked by someone today.
One of the downsides of being both a natural dom and then being trained by someone as dedicated as Tyson Fleet is being able to read body language and facial cues.
Cody had been screaming both anxiety and fear, despite attempting to hide it under his normal cheery smile.
Possibly, it’s not surprising that he has become such close friends with Eden, when he reminds me of Shay.
He’s a brat who hides his pain to spare those around him.
What is so bad that Cody ended up admitting that he was scared?
My mouth tightens.
Cody is my family now.
I won’t allow coach to continue to terrorize his own family.
Terrorize the entire team, who are also my brothers.
Living in Freedom Mansion for the last few months has meant learning what it is truly like to be loved and accepted at the same time as sharing my space, even if that means smashed windows, kitchen counters smeared in raspberry jam, and the awkward elbow battle of brushing my teeth alongside three other people.
I’ve also had the pressure of leading my team through the best season of our lives.
I won’t fail them now…fail any of them…the people who have made my life worth living again.
I stare down at my phone’s screen and the new Bay Rebel’s scheduling app.
9:15 – Finance Manager and Captain.
Why does Silas, the ferret faced finance officer, want to see me?
Alone?
Is Silas panicking about poor baseball hat merchandising sales? Does he want to discuss player bonuses? Or does he have an idea to improve finances by putting my admittedly glorious ass on OnlyFans?
I fiddle three times with my cuff links, before tapping onto the private group chat, the Puckups, which I have set up with the team and the honorary members from the staff, Cody and Noah.
Noah is the team’s nurse. Unluckily for him, he is also a distant, poorer relative of Silas, which means that he’s under his influence. Noah is also a bi sub who has had to hide his identity from his traditional, abusive family.
I have tried to help Noah to escape his situation. Freedom is a small town, however, and it’s not easy to make the break, when Silas works at the arena.
I will find a way.
I tap on the Puckups Chat.
I scan the chat, feeling like an ice hockey James Bond, if Bond had real friends because he wasn’t a sociopathic asshole.
My hand tightens around the phone.
Fuck, this isn’t good.
Cody is posting coach’s location like shark sightings, so that the rest of us know where not to swim in the boy aquarium. Atlas is keeping a list of every meeting, while Zach and Grayson are having a back and forth about the shady shit that they’re hearing.
It makes me most concerned that Lucas, who has connections on the board, has simply written that things aren’t chill.
For the youngest team member, who still acts like he’s barely out of the frat house, that’s saying something.
Nerves sit heavy in my chest.
I adjust my tie, checking that it is done up correctly.
Then I raise my hand to knock.
Suddenly, my phone vibrates with a text.
I glance down.
My lips curl into a smile.
It’s from MY GOOD BOY.
Shay.
He will be in the locker room by now, changing for practice. His mind should be on practice like I ordered. Yet I knew that his thoughts would be with me instead.
If our roles were reversed, I would be thinking about Shay too. In fact, it would be fucking killing me not to attend the meeting with him.
Maybe I won’t do more than a funishment for breaking the rule.
My eyes gleam, as I imagine handcuffing Shay naked to our bed and edging him, while he cries prettily and begs but not because he truly wants it to stop…we both know that…but because he doesn’t want me to stop, until he fucking breaks.
Of course, I won’t let him come.
I hope that this text was worth it to him.
Flashing a cruel grin, I read from MY GOOD BOY:
U OK? Practice is about 2 start. Msg if u need me at your side instead. I’ll be there
My expression softens.
Maybe I will let Shay come.
But only if he begs as prettily as he cries.
I straighten my shoulders, feeling calmer and more in control.
I sharply knock.
My phone vibrates again.
My cucciolo is pushing it now. He better get his fucking ass on the ice.
But then, I blink.
This time the text is from MY FOREVER.
Robyn.
I smirk.
I left Robyn with Eden, working together in their shared office at home.
Eden was focused with an impressive intensity on a new order of moleskin hardcover notebooks and planners. Maybe it’s a fetish. Although I won’t point it out because he’s probably the best PA in America.
The freshly baked packed lunches that he makes for me each day are worth his salary alone.
Robyn is planning to set up that positive slanted interview on our relationship today.
“Hmm, what could be positive about having three men love, pleasure, and meet your needs?” I caged Robyn over her desk.
Wasn’t I helping her with her research? Her eyes were blown, as I lowered my lips against hers.
She dragged me closer by my tie. “Who will plan mystery fantasies when they win their games? And who are each taking you out on dates over the next week? I can’t wait for ours on Sunday, cara mia. ”
Each of us taking Robyn out on a date every month has become our routine.
In our own ways, we’re possessive of Robyn. We need time with her alone to deepen our connections and different dynamics.
I’m taking Shay on a date as well. Even now, he still finds it hard to understand that he deserves to be treated with the same respect.
Robyn pulled me by my tie into a kiss. “Where are you taking me on your date?”
“Good try.” I licked over her lower lip, loving the taste of her. “You’ll have to wait and see, principessa.”
Now, I open Robyn’s text and blink in shock at the photo that she has sent.
A dick pic.
It’s not the first that I’ve been sent.
It is the first from a woman.
Although, this is more a dildo pic.
Is that a thing?
I chuckle, studying the unboxed knotted dildo.
It must have arrived this morning.
It’s large and intimidating.
I wince.
I’m glad that it’s Shay’s ass that is going to be knotted and not mine.
I’m the Alpha in this pack.
It is Shay who is our sweet puppy. I would love to put a collar and leash on him. I sense that he would love it too.
Before I can stuff the phone back into my pocket, however, the door swings open.
“Are you just going to knock and then not come in? Some of us have important work to get back to,” Silas demands rudely.
Shit…
I scramble, almost dropping the phone. By mistake, I enlarge the dildo pic.
I try to shield the screen, but Silas’ eyes widen.
“Is that a new merchandising idea?” Silas sneers. “Sex toys for pucking? Should we copyright that phrase?”
My cheeks pink, but I reply, coolly, “Good idea. We could design entire ranges, since they keep being thrown onto the ice by fans. Spiral unicorn dildos, ice blue butt plugs, and how about Puck Me Quick jerseys?”
“Aren’t you just full of ideas?”
Silas glances at me with the same contempt as a billionaire sprawled in a lap dancing club, who is judging the strippers, despite the fact he is choosing to stuff hundred-dollar bills down their G-strings.
Asshole.
Silas is in his forties, small and long faced. His ginger hair is neatly parted.
I hate how little he cares about the players or the sport. To him, everything is about the numbers on the page and the money in his own pocket.
“You’re handsome and a winner with the female demographic.” Silas looks me up and down in a way that makes my skin crawl. Like I am a commodity. “At least you were, before that disgraceful display on the ice. Leaning into your fuckability with other demographics now is not a bad idea, sales wise.”
Cold fury surges through me.
Kissing Shay on the ice was the most liberating moment of my life.
My parents and brothers may have beaten me bloody the first time that I kissed a boy. But no one is beating me down for kissing this boy.
“I am not hiding who I am any longer.” My voice is ice-cold. “And that display on the ice meant freedom.”
“It could have meant the end of Bay Rebels.”
I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Follow me.” Silas arrogantly turns on his heel and marches back into the large office.
I follow him, slamming the door shut behind me.
He raises his eyebrow. “Problem?”
“Is there? You tell me.”
Silas settles behind his sleek, mahogany desk, which is covered with ranked piles of paper and folders. Steel filing cabinets are ranged along the far wall.
Three computers and more high-tech gadgets than I have seen in one office before are ranged in front of Silas.
I count eight phones.
The arctic blue walls are decorated with the Bay Rebels flaming puck logo and jerseys.
The blinds are closed over the window, shutting out the sun, as if Silas wants to be certain that we have total privacy.
I stand stiffly across the office from him in silence.
Finally, he glances up at me. “Well, sit down.”
I stalk to the wooden chair and throw myself down. “Why am I here?”
“Because you’re the captain. The heart of the team. I must admit that although Prince scores the goals and is a nice little money-spinner, you hold everyone together. The team achieve victory or fall apart on the ice because of where your head is at.”
“Thanks for the analysis, but I get that from coach and my AC. Usually with a side of ass kicking.”