Chapter 35
Thirty Five
Kaeli
The interviewer, Sam Hopkins, a man with a British accent and graying hair, throws his head back and laughs at something Ezra says.
I feign one, too, though what Ezra said wasn’t even remotely funny. Not even he seems to think so, because he gives me a quick raise of an eyebrow at the interviewer’s reaction.
Sam directs his question to me, and I sit comfortably, knowing in the back of my mind that he had been given a pre-approved list of questions he can ask. “How has working in the male-dominated and violent sport been working out for you? How do you handle the testosterone-filled world of hockey?”
I’m pretty sure that he rephrased a question from the list to sound more dramatic and mean, but I take it in stride. It’s not the first time my being a woman has been pointed out.
I see the subtle clench of Ezra’s jaw and pray to God he doesn’t intervene.
“Well, Sam, I’m not the one on the ice playing the violent game, am I?” I dig while politely maintaining the smile on my face. Sam has no option but to laugh along.
“And as for my working experience, it has been great. I got an internship with the Boston Bandits fresh out of college, and since then, I’ve been working for them.
Absolutely no complaints. All my peers and the senior staff have been supportive and understanding, pushing me to my growth,” I lie, as the incident with Mullens threatens to turn my breakfast into projectile humiliation over national TV.
“That’s lovely,” Sam comments with a faux smile, putting one leg over the other. “Moving on, how much do you actually know about strategy or the sport itself, or are you just there to post pretty pictures?”
This son of a bitch.
He had to go and be a sexist pig, didn’t he?
My fists curl in anger, and so does Ezra’s on the edge of the couch, next to me. I see him about to stand up and instantly place my hand on his, ceasing what could turn out to be a disaster of epic proportions.
It’s too late, I realize that we have an audience when Sam’s eyes glint with impure intentions.
I paste an award-winning fake smile and answer him. “I grew up watching hockey like any other fan, so I know what I’m talking about when I design strategies for posting and creating content.”
My answer does nothing to satisfy him, because his next question shifts the ground beneath my feet. “How do you keep things professional when you’re constantly around sweaty, shirtless athletes?”
A chorus of oh shits and damns and fucks rings out around us from the people recording and the staff.
Oh, those words did not just leave his mouth!
My mouth hangs open at the audacity of this man. Basically, calling someone a slut and unprofessional in front of the world.
I feel Ezra’s body practically vibrating beside me, thirsty for the blood of the man who thinks he could ask anything, cross any professional and personal boundary with that stupid accent of his, without landing himself in trouble.
And if he thinks that I’ll take what he’s dishing out like some meek girl who can’t stand up for herself, he has another thing coming. Turning to Ezra as he looks at me with eyes that demand retribution and my permission, I give him the slightest shake of my head and squeeze his hand.
Snapping my gaze back to Sam and dropping all pretenses of being polite and professional, I give him an introduction with the woman of the twenty-first fucking century.
Leaning back against the couch and crossing my legs, I eye him with all the disinterest and disgust I can muster.
“I’ll answer that question in a second, Sam. Before that, do you mind if I ask you something?” I say, holding up my finger.
His malicious smile doesn’t slip as if he really thinks I’ll not rip him a new one for his absolutely horrendous behavior. I let him have it, though. I let him believe that he got out of it unscathed.
“Sam, are you asking me this question because you’re unable to concentrate beyond the fact that I’m a woman?
Seeing that you can’t even pretend to look me in the eyes, since you’re so busy staring at my boobs.
Now, that’s what I call unprofessionalism.
And that’s the only thing that distracts me from my job. ”
His face turns scarlet with embarrassment, his nose flaring with uncontrolled rage. But I do give my final blow. “Sweaty, shirtless athletes? Please. If I wanted that, I’d buy a calendar. I’m here to run strategy, not stare at abs.”
With that, I take my leave, sashaying right out of the building once I grab my purse from the waiting room. No one dares to stop me.
The moment I’m inside my car, all my bravado fizzles out of me like bubbles in a champagne kept out too long. My forehead presses against the steering wheel as my trembling hands wrap around it, anchoring myself before I drift away.
I can’t even begin to comprehend the repercussions of this act of defiance, especially on my job. After everything I suffered through for this job, this little stunt might put it all in jeopardy.
I can’t wait around here too long lest someone sees how much this affected me. I put my car in gear and am about to drive out when Ezra climbs in, opening the passenger side door. My foot presses down on the brake, causing the car to lurch forward.
“Get out, Ezra. Someone will see us,” I mumble, exhaustion bleeding in my voice.
His head snaps toward me so quickly I’m surprised he didn’t pull a muscle.
He looks at me with his eyes shot red and hands curled into fists as he grits, “If you think that I’m staying away from you after that shit show, then you’ve another thing coming.”
Depleted of all my energy, I rev the car and drive out on the busy streets of Boston. I drive aimlessly as silence envelops us both like heavy clouds hanging over our heads, ready to drown us at any second.
Neither of us says a word, both lost in our own thoughts.
Everything that transpired today was exactly what I had been fearing from the moment Stacy shared this idea with me. I knew my credibility would be questioned and my privacy would be threatened just because I’m a woman.
However, I truly didn’t think that would happen on national television. All I was expecting were rude comments from outrageous fans. When in fact, they’ve all been supportive except for one or two here and there, but even those didn’t get any traction.
Sam’s insensitiveness and audacity truly astounded me. I couldn’t dream that such a well-regarded interviewer would stoop so low.
When I come to it, I finally find myself pulling in front of Ezra’s apartment building. With quick movements, Ezra gets out of the car and rounds it to my side. Opening my door, he turns the ignition off and pulls the keys, sliding them into his pockets.
Picking my stunned self in his arms, he locks the car and walks inside the building. He tips his head at the guard, who looks at us with wide eyes before a smile covers his face.
My face flushes with embarrassment as I hiss at Ezra, “What the fuck are you doing? Put me down!”
He doesn’t look at me, not even when I hit his chest or bite his jaw. Taking us straight into the elevator, he puts me down only when we reach his penthouse.
I stumble from the suddenness of the action, finding purchase on the wall.
“What’s your problem?” I yell behind his back as he walks away from me. “Look at me when I talk to you!”
Opening the fridge aggressively, he chugs down a bottle of water and throws one to me. “Drink,” he grunts. I open my mouth to retaliate when he interrupts, “Drink the fucking water, Kaeli!”
With an annoyed huff, I unscrew the cap and gulp down a few sips. I place the bottle on the kitchen counter. And before I can wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, Ezra does it for me when he tugs his shirt up and presses it to my mouth.
My insides do a flip at this sweet action, and my thighs involuntarily clench at the view of his perfect, washboard abs. God! He had to go and be considerate even when angry.
His eyes soften at the edges, sincerity bleeding into his tone, “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” He embraces me in a hug, propping his chin on my head. My hands hesitantly cling to him. He effortlessly places me on the kitchen counter.
“I know,” I say, softly rubbing his back and feeling his muscles loosen.
“What an asshole! I wish I could ship him back to where he came from. If it were up to me, he’d never be able to interview anyone ever again,” he grits, his nostrils flaring in fury.
“Calm down, Superman. I’ve handled worse.” Pulling back, I pat his chest.
“Kaeli, it is not the reassurance you think it is,” he chides me, tilting my chin to look me in the eyes.
“It’s not?” I tease him.
“Mhmm. You tell me the name of every motherfucker who ever cornered you, and I swear they’ll regret the day they put their eyes on you,” he growls.
My gaze roves over his hard features. His dark hair falls over his forehead as the glacial blue of his eyes swirls like a tornado on its path to destruction. The heat of his warm body seeps into me, recharging me, comforting me.
But what outshines everything is the worry he’s holding onto. Worry for my well-being. How did I never know he’s so fucking caring? How was I ever able to insult him? And how does he still care about me enough to avenge me?
So many questions and no answer.
“Thank you,” I whisper, pressing my hand to his beating heart.
His brows draw together as he glances between my eyes, “Why?”
My lips tilt upwards. “For existing.”
All anger forgotten, he gives me a blinding smile. A smile that makes me want to protect him from the world. A smile that makes me want to hide him away like treasure.
Leaning down, he presses his lips to mine, licking my lips to seek permission. I gladly open my mouth, and he accepts the invitation when his tongue slips inside to caress mine.
The world fades away, and it’s just the two of us, savoring each other’s warmth. He tugs at my lower lip, biting it, making me emit a sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper.
Sucking my lower lip into his mouth, he eases the burn as his hard length presses into my core, making me shiver at the contact.
My hands travel south and squeeze his clothed dick. His hips jerk forward as he groans into my mouth.
Pulling back, he licks the length of my jaw until he reaches my ear. “Don’t tempt me, Feather. I’m barely holding on.”
I want to see him lose the control he hangs on to so dearly. And because I take a challenge to everything he says, I rub his cock even harder with the palm of my hand.
His hot breath blows the hair on my neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake as he whimpers at the contact.
I rip open his shirt, buttons popping all around us. “Oops.” I shrug on an innocent smile. He fondly shakes his head at me as it slides down and drops on the floor.
My fingers trace his chest, flicking his taut nipples on my way down, causing him to hiss as cool air brushes his naked torso.
Continuing my exploration south, my fingers wander over the defined ridges of his torso. Ezra sucks in a breath at the barest of touches, his stomach hollowing out as goosebumps litter his body.
Mustering courage, I travel down the hair trail below his navel, leading me to his clothed dick. I flick open the button of his trousers, his breathing ceasing entirely as I shrug down his pants and boxers below his sculpted ass.
His beautiful dick springs free of the confines, breathing the air and swelling as it points straight at me.
Just as I’m about to touch him, his hand curls around mine, halting me. “Are you sure?” he grunts, staring earnestly straight into my eyes.
This sweet, sweet man, thinking of my comfort, even when he’s aching for his own release.
Pecking his lips softly, I nod. “I’m sure, darling.”
His eyes flare in surprise at the endearment that slips out unprompted, and I don’t regret it for a second.
This man deserves all the care in the world, and I’ll shower him with it. For as long as he allows me.