Chapter 3 #2
“I’m merely explaining why I chose you to talk with right now.
” Silas steeples his hands on his desk. “The club is in financial trouble. Do you know how hard it is for a new team to survive? We must rely on concessions, sponsorships, merchandise, and media deals. The problem is that the local economy has been struggling. The truth is that we’ve always been in trouble.
The upturn in success this season is the only reason that we haven’t collapsed already. ”
The breath feels like it has been punched from me.
I lean my hands on the desk, however, and meet Silas’ eye. “So, what you’re telling me is that you’re shit at your job.”
It feels good to backtalk authority figures.
I have been conditioned for years not to, first by the Discipline school and then by coach.
Robyn has shown me how to stand my ground, however, no matter how much my guts are churning inside.
Silas’ eyes flash with rage. “I have not mismanaged this team.”
“The quake of fear in your voice tells a different story.”
Silas gestures at the computers on his desk. “You have no idea how hard managing a club this large is. What do you know about running a business?”
“You’d be surprised.”
He truly would.
My business portfolio is larger than his is. I own half the property in Freedom and most of the businesses, including a BDSM club.
I don’t say that.
Instead, I allow Silas to believe that I am a dumb player who barely knows more than what end of a stick to hold.
Underestimating your opponent is a rookie mistake.
Silas waves his hand dismissively. “All jocks like you know is how to hit a puck into a net. You couldn’t manage a Girl Scout cookie drive. Go on, tell me, how would you navigate salary caps and…?”
“I don’t need to. That’s what you’re paid for. But it seems that you can’t successfully sell Girl Scout cookies either, huh?”
Silas reddens. “We’ve only just received national TV contracts.
We’re not one of the giants; it’s a miracle that we’re not already dead in the water.
I called you in because whether this team survives or not is down to your continued success on the ice because we’re reliant on gate receipts.
We’re too vulnerable. The smallest, poorest team in the NHL.
Here’s an idea to help. How about you give up your salary?
After all, you’re the highest paid player. ”
Fury races through me.
I have played for nine years, earning my place on the team and working up to the position of captain to earn that salary.
Fuck. Him.
I force myself to sit back in my seat, crossing my legs. “Do I earn more than you?”
Silas laughs, and that’s answer enough.
Fuck him again.
I knew that I was being screwed on my negotiations. I never questioned them before.
I have been too loyal to the Bay Rebels — brainwashed.
“Here’s the deal,” I grit out. “If you give up your salary, then I will give up mine. But my guess is that will make no difference at all to the club’s difficulties.
Or am I wrong? You’ve fucked up somehow or have been embezzling funds for years.
You’re hiding behind these other reasons.
Then you’re scrambling for me to cover it up with the extra income that’ll come in, if my players and I pull off the impossible and reach the Stanley Cup Final.
Is it incompetence or fraud that’s screwed the Bay Rebels? ”
Silas pales, startled. “I’m not… I haven’t…” He coughs, shuffling the phones in front of him. “You leading your team to victory is what will make the difference. It will rescue the team. My secrets are my fucking own.”
I clench my jaw. “Keep your secrets. My only concern is the survival of this team. If making the finals is what will do that, then I’ll battle for it.”
Silas’ shoulders slump with relief. “That’s the type of determination that I like to hear. The new AC isn’t tough on you. I liked the old one; he knew how to push players. Luckily, I have my own way to motivate you.”
He takes a key out of his pocket, unlocking the bottom drawer of his desk.
My stomach sinks.
What is he doing?
Silas’ expression has become predatory and knowing in a way that makes my chest tight.
What the hell does he have in that drawer?
I clench the material of my trousers, wrinkling it.
Silas withdraws a printout of an article about me from the Peninsular News.
It was published months ago by a bullying journalist, Melanie, who was sleeping with Wilder.
The photograph is of me at a fetish event. I am dressed in a ringmaster outfit, complete with top hat and whip.
A young man knees obediently in front of me in nothing but glittery yellow shorts. He is wearing a golden lion’s mask and has a shock of golden curls. A kitten tattoo with rope binding it winds around his upper arm.
The other man’s identity is hidden…but it’s Noah.
My heart jumps. I struggle to keep my breathing steady.
I’ve known that this photograph was circulating for months.
Yet I didn’t know that Silas had hold of it.
Please, don’t let him realize that it’s Noah.
With difficulty, I shutter my expression. “If you’re trying to blackmail me with this, then you’re too late. The public have already seen me in all my glory, including dancing naked in nothing but stilettos, being spit roasted over a piano, and pole dancing in bunny ears.”
Silas scrunches his nose in disgust, before slamming his hand over the lion in the photograph. “Did you think that I wouldn’t recognize who this is?”
My heart stops. My blood chills.
“I’m not telling you their name.” Slowly, I stand.
I lean over the table. Silas must read something in my eye that wasn’t there before because he cringes back in his chair.
He’s not so brave anymore. “And I will protect their identity, privacy, and right to be whoever the fuck they want to be. Leave them alone, or you’re not going to enjoy the outcome. ”
“You really do like to pretend that you can protect everyone, don’t you?
” Silas gives a nasty laugh, shaking his head.
“Does it make you feel better to pretend that the team, this fake family of freaks that you’ve created, and these deviants you play the white knight for, are yours?
What is missing in you that you need this, D’Angelo? It’s sad.”
I become ashen, flinching like he’s struck me.
Silas presses his advantage, pinning the photograph of the lion down like he’s trapping Noah himself.
“We both know who this is, and we also know that his dad will kill him, if I show him this. Unless you’d enjoy witnessing that…
because since you’re holding this whip, it seems that a sadist like you enjoys hurting people.
Abusers like you would enjoy Noah’s humiliation, hmm? ”
My hands press harder onto the surface of the desk.
If Silas thinks that he can hurt me with his prejudiced view of that side to me, then he’s wrong. I accepted years ago that I can find pleasure in pain, but only if it brings my partner pleasure.
Noah came twice that evening under my whip.
Our scene was beautiful. Noah flew in his subspace. He was adorable, nuzzling me after as I wrapped him in a blanket and brought him back up.
It’s what he needed that night.
There is no shame in that.
“I’m the best at protecting my partners,” I growl, “and bringing them pleasure however they need it. I will also hurt and humiliate anyone who attacks them. Who could that be in this room?”
Silas sneers, defiantly, “If I show this photograph to Noah’s parents, then his mom will disown him.
I know my cousins well enough to guess what they’ll do, and I think you can too.
Do you want to be responsible for that? Or will you inspire your team to win four out of the next seven games and make it to the Stanley Cup Final?
Win on the ice, then no one needs find out your secrets or mine. ”