Chapter 5
Rebel Arena, Freedom
Robyn
When I tip back my head, sunshine washes across my face.
I allow myself this final moment of silent, sunbathed happiness, before facing the press pack who are swarming outside Rebel Arena.
Shay jitters from foot to foot next to me.
He’s dressed in one of my favorite outfits of his because it reminds me of the night that I first met him in Merchant’s Inn: A motorcycle jacket over a punky red shirt and black jeans
He doesn’t look like a hockey player, which makes him a honeytrap for coaches’ daughters.
Fuck, every time that I look at him, somehow it feels like it’s the first time.
When Shay smiles, his large, winter gray eyes, which are framed by butterfly lashes, meet mine.
I feel suddenly lighter.
Braver.
He once told me that because life was short, he wasn’t wasting a single heartbeat.
…If I can take joy in something, then I’m seizing it…
When I’m with him, I can believe that.
Shay’s spun gold hair tumbles over his sharp cheekbones and jaw line.
Hot and cold flushes through me because hell, I’ve been around NHL players all my life, but no one has looked as much like a god as Shay does.
I nudge Shay with my elbow, wishing that I could take his hand.
I can’t because we’re in public, however, and that hurts.
I lick my lips, remembering the taste of sweet strawberries that Shay fed me, while I’d been imagining his cock sliding into my mouth.
Is there any chance that my near death by muffin will be forgotten?
I haven’t quite got the hang of eating sexily yet.
Eden at least appeared distracted by taking the photographs.
I know that he has more hidden talents than he’s able to admit but I was still surprised how good Eden’s photograph was.
He captured a hidden truth to both his brother and D’Angelo, which was almost uncomfortable. It’ll be a game changer, when I post it on the Bay Rebels’ social media account.
I’ll need to be careful, however, how much of our personal lives that I share.
It’s a difficult balance.
When I studied the photograph, even though D’Angelo and Shay aren’t touching in it, I could tell the sexual tension and dynamic between them, the same as if Shay was stripped naked with his face pushed into the bedding, while D’Angelo dominantly spread him open and roughly fucked him like a toy.
Yet is that only because I know the truth?
It also felt good to see how happy Eden was to see that he’s always going to be included.
At least, I’m guessing that he was happy.
Reading Eden comes down to judging twitches of lips, long looks, and the length of silences.
Of course, he can make me wet, simply by crossing his arms or giving me one of those long looks.
D’Angelo stands at my other shoulder.
He’s wearing a long, woolen coat, which is the same arctic blue as his cashmere scarf. It lies open over an elegant, designer navy suit and waistcoat.
With the icy gleam in his eyes, cruel twist to his sensual lips, and hands clasped behind his back, he looks like a general who’s about to go to war.
An impossibly hot general.
I’m screwed, aren’t I?
Is there any chance that he won’t give these journalists the exact type of reaction that they want for their clickbait and get this season off to the worst possible start?
He has form.
“Remember the silence and no comment rule,” I whisper. I drilled both D’Angelo and Shay on this in the taxi that we took over here from Captain’s Hall. “It’s PR’s most powerful tool.”
D’Angelo hums noncommittally.
I grab his scarf and yank him to a stop.
I’m grateful that the paparazzi haven’t noticed us yet or else the PR Director holding the team’s captain, as if by a leash, would make an interesting photograph for the front page tomorrow. “We talked about this in the taxi.”
“You did,” D’Angelo agrees.
Shay chuckles. “You should be a lawyer.”
“We’re going to walk through those vultures, and you’re not…” I wrench D’Angelo closer, until our noses are touching. His gorgeous blue eyes widen. “…repeat not going to say anything in your coolly dangerous voice like—”
“Keep sticking that camera in my face, then I’ll see whether I can hit it as far as I can a puck…?”
“You truly said that?” Shay sounds impressed.
“Look what you’ve done,” I tut. “You’re being a bad influence on the man you’re mentoring.”
All of a sudden, D’Angelo’s expression becomes serious.
I should have known that tactic would work. D’Angelo takes his role as captain seriously, especially his responsibility to Shay.
D’Angelo turns his cold gaze on Shay, who shrinks back. “Under no circumstance will any words cross your pretty lips, apart from no comment. Your PR Director has given you directions. You should learn to follow them. I’m the captain. My reputation has been damaged for many years. But you’re a new and a rising star. I won’t allow your reputation and career to be ripped to shreds like mine has been. So, respect Robyn.”
Shay looks down. “Sorry, love.”
“Hey, it’s okay. You always respect me.” I smooth D’Angelo’s scarf down, before letting go. “It’s your captain here who I’m worried about. What he just did is called deflection.”
D’Angelo looks called out. “No comment.”
“Come on, let’s get this over with.” I grit my teeth.
Why are there so many press here today? Did someone tip them off about the meeting with my dad or is it going to be like this from now on, until the season starts?
There’s a reason that I call journalists glorified stalkers.
I straighten my shoulders and march through the morning sunshine toward the journalists and paparazzi who are huddled around Rebel Arena’s entrance, blocking it.
Despite the stress, excitement still tingles through me as it always does at the sight of the arena. It’s the familiar anticipation for the thrill of the incredible game, which has always stolen my heart.
Like they have a hive mind, the journalists turn and swarm around us. Eden looks panicked but steadies with a glance at D’Angelo.
“Melanie from the Peninsula Daily News.” A woman who’s my age pushes herself in front of us.
Her eyes light up with a horrible excitement.
This isn’t good.
Melanie was the chief Queen Bee and mean girl in my class at high school.
She’s dressed in a flannel jacket and pink jeans. Her hair is streaked with silver.
D’Angelo opens his mouth either to tell her to fuck off or to reply that he knows precisely who she is, since she’s been writing trash articles about him…but snaps it shut, when I glance significantly at him.
I start to push a route through the crush. I’m careful not to trip over the tripods. I blink at the flurry of camera flashes, as if I can’t hear the shouts from the paparazzi of D’Angelo, Prince, or loser, misfit, this way, this way, look over here…
Kudos to both men.
They don’t reply. Their faces are like masks, despite having insults hurled at them by a gang of strangers who are attempting to get them to lose their tempers.
Do they realize how close they are to getting their dicks punched with these two?
“Don’t you want to know what my exclusive reveal will be next week?” Melanie calls, sidling next to D’Angelo. “It’s a full spread on you.”
I pale.
Is she serious?
But there aren’t any new scandals. I’ve made certain of that.
I knew that Melanie would still be a mean girl.
Melanie sticks her microphone in D’Angelo’s face, as he tries to walk away from her. “The headline will be: Secrets of a Puck Boy Captain. Any comment?”
Shit.
My heart aches for D’Angelo.
I hate that he’s been unfairly represented and shamed in the press. I’ve been doing everything to reflect the truth about him.
The good man who’s dedicated to his team like they’re family.
The type of man who sets up and runs a sports charity and hockey scholarships anonymously and won’t allow me to use his charity work in his PR.
It means something important to him. He won’t cheapen it, even if the press don’t care about cheapening his life.
D’Angelo becomes ashen. “Print that, and I’ll sue.”
So much for silence.
Melanie looks like the snake who’s caught her prey.
She looks even more delighted, when D’Angelo bats the microphone out of his face.
“Then you’d have to prove that what I say isn’t true.” She grins. “You could go on the record with me about your side of the story first. You don’t have any actual relationships recorded. Would you like to tell me now that you have a long term girlfriend or boyfriend?”
I snatch D’Angelo by the elbow, hauling him through the pack.
I don’t care that I’m stepping (literally), on people’s toes.
Shay’s vibrating with fury.
“Don’t say anything,” I warn Shay.
Shay drags his phone out of his pocket. Confused, I watch as he fiddles with it.
I know that he enjoys his games on there and is working hard to beat Cody’s highest score on Candy Crush, but now isn’t the fucking time.
“What about Wilder Talon? Why don’t you take a break from busting my balls and focus on his?” D’Angelo yells over his shoulder like he’s unable to hold it in any longer. “He’s suspended. Isn’t that the real story right now in hockey?”
“Is that a quote?” Melanie asks, sweetly.
“No,” I shoot back.
At the same time, D’Angelo snarls, “It’s a fact.”
Shay’s expression hardens, as he glares at Melanie, at the same time as holding up his phone.
“No comment,” blares from the phone in an automated voice, followed by the same phrase in every language that he’s been able to program on repeat.
Shay and I march shoulder by shoulder with D’Angelo to repeated no comments that sound exactly like the fuck offs that they’re meant to be.
We escape through the high, steel doors of the arena.
My heart is hammering, as the doors clang shut behind me.