The Worst Pucking Deal: A Hockey and Mafia Romance

Chapter One

“Ahhh, I needed that,” my best friend and roommate, Gail, declares. She brings the bottle of red wine to her lips and takes another large swig. “And that. Fuck, Luce. You won’t believe how insane today’s been.” She dramatically sweeps her free hand through her light brown hair and scrunches up her face.

I arch an eyebrow, amused by her theatrics. “What did the little brats do to make you this thirsty?” I ask, hinting at the kids she teaches.

Gail huffs. “Hey now. You know I love them…” She trails off, waiting for me to react, and I dutifully nod. “But man. The twins drove me crazy. All day they’ve tested my limits. One of them even…” She trails off and twirls a brown lock of hair around her finger. “…put a painted hand on my ass.”

I burst out laughing at the admission that a little boy got to second base with her. “Well damn. The twins have game,” I cackle. When she pouts, I cluck at her. “Come on, Gail. Don’t be like that. Just the other day, you told me that no one has touched you in two months. Now you can’t say that anymore.”

Her facial expression twists into pure horror. “What the fuck’s the matter with you, Luce? This isn’t funny.”

Refusing to let her drag me down, I shrug. “It’s a little funny.”

“You think joking about… that with a kid is funny?”

I roll my eyes. “Obviously not. That’s sick, Gail. I think the fact you’re so bent out of shape and have lost the ability to see the funny in the situation calls for immediate intervention. So spill it. Why are you so stressed?”

She stretches her legs, kicking the empty Chinese containers away and clutching the wine bottle tighter. “The district is cutting back and has fired three teachers already this week,” she admits. I nod while she shares her fear of being the next one to go. “I know I complain a lot, but I love my job, Luce. The kids are incredible, and it’s… well, it’s hard to explain.”

“Hey now, none of that. We have a pact, Gail. On Fridays, we complain about the world while getting shit-faced. And on Saturday we—”

She laughs. “I know, I know. It’s just hard not knowing where I stand. But enough about me, how was your week? I feel like I haven’t seen you at all.”

That’s the sucky thing about my job as an account executive for the Minneapolis Sabertooths PR team. Where my hours are crazy, Gail’s are normal. Sometimes we can go days without seeing each other. If we didn’t live together, it would be close to impossible to spend time with each other, which is why we’ve continued to share an apartment even though we both have successful jobs and could afford our own places.

“It’s been okay,” I say, snatching the bottle from Gail instead of reaching for mine. “Jo’s been acting weird.”

“Weird how?”

I take a moment, searching for the words to best describe it. “She’s kept me out of a few meetings.” Though it annoyed me when it happened, I’m grateful now. Because if my boss hadn’t removed me from tonight’s meeting, I might not have been home yet.

Gail’s eyes widen. “That’s new, isn’t it? Last week, you told me how she looped you in on everything. Oh, my God!” She clasps her hand across her mouth, looking at me with concern in her blue eyes. “You don’t think you’re getting fired, do you?”

I bark out a laugh. “Why are you seeing firings everywhere? You know there can be other reasons, right? Like maybe whatever Jo’s focused on isn’t part of my job description. Or maybe it mainly revolves around the players whose social media accounts I don’t run. Or maybe, just maybe, she’s using one of the other account executives to give me a goddamn breather.”

“I suppose…” she trails off.

“Gail.” I say her name softly. “The Sabertooths have their first game in just four days. Everything is fucking crazy right now. So read nothing into it.”

I’m not saying it to calm her down, but because it’s true. With only four days left until we have our away game in Anaheim means it’s all hands on deck. So I’m not worried about Jo not keeping me in the loop. Especially not when I have more than enough to juggle already. But this is what we do. I bring reason to Gail’s brain that sees red flags and warnings everywhere. No, that’s not quite right. She’s extremely level-headed six days of the week, but Friday is the day she lets go and lets her thoughts and insecurities fly free.

“You’re probably right,” she mumbles as she tries to get up from the living room floor we’re camping out on. “We need more wine.”

I burst out laughing as she clumsily gets to her feet, only falling twice. “Yes we do,” I agree. “You’re almost walking in a straight line, so we need a lot more.”

While Gail goes to the bathroom and to get more wine from the kitchen, I reach for my phone. It’s tucked away under one of the couch cushions so it doesn’t interrupt our tradition. But now that Gail isn’t here to stop me, I don’t have enough self-control to ignore the device.

I huff with annoyance when I notice a text, and for a split second I consider ignoring it since I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s from my boss. It wouldn’t be the first weekend I’ve lost before it could properly begin because the Sabertooths forward, Sawyer Perry, hockey God and playboy extraordinaire, can’t behave.

The text isn’t from Jo.

Remus: Long time no see, Lucia. Are you ready to come home yet?

Fuck.

My blood runs cold, and my palms become so clammy I can barely hold on to my phone.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

While I’m busy panicking, another text pops in.

Remus: You know I can see you’ve read my message. I want to see you, so make yourself available next Friday.

I bite down on my bottom lip as I stare at the texts in horror. I knew my time was running out, so I should have expected for my cousin to contact me sooner rather than later. But fuck. I’ve kind of been in denial, my brain holding on to the fact that I have one month left of my freedom. If I’m honest, a miniscule part of me even considered that Remus might have decided not to hold me to the deal I made with my uncle. Obviously, that’s not the case.

Me: When?

My hands are so slippery with sweat I almost dropped my phone three times while writing those four letters.

Remus: Lunch works for me. I can’t wait to see you again, Lucia.

Instead of returning the sentiment that I don’t feel at all, I stay on topic.

Me: Where? You’re not expecting me to fly to Rome for lunch, right?

Remus: I’ll come to you. Minneapolis, Minnesota, is where you share an apartment with your friend Abigail Wilson, correct?

Oh, fuck me. Trust my cousin to take this small interaction as an opportunity to remind me that he knows everything about my life.

Me: Just text me the details and I’ll see you then!

I know I should be nicer, maybe even groveling. But I can’t make myself type out anything but the barest of words. I’m not ready. I don’t want to meet with him, and I most definitely don’t want to leave the place I consider home and move back to Rome.

“Why so serious?” Gail asks when she comes back into the living room, clutching a bottle of wine in each hand.

I gulp and reach for one of them, not hesitating before I put it to my lips and greedily down half the bottle. “Just some family stuff,” I mutter, not wanting to get into it.

Gail sits down on the floor next to me, pulling me to her side. “You never talk about your family, Luce. And from the look on your face, I’m guessing it’s not happy news?”

Unable to answer, I shake my head. My throat feels clogged, like I’m about to cry. But what I feel isn’t sadness, it’s pure unadulterated fear of being forced out of the cozy life I’ve built for myself far, far away from Rome.

I let Gail hold me until my heart no longer gallops in my chest, and breathing becomes easier. “My cousin is coming to visit next week,” I say, my voice monotone. “He wants… no, demands we meet for lunch.”

When I look up at her, her brows are sitting high on her forehead, and her eyes are as wide as saucers. “He’s demanding you have lunch with him?” she asks incredulously. “Can’t you just tell him to fuck off or something?”

I laugh bitterly. “No one tells Remus to fuck off,” I reply. I know I should keep my mouth shut, but the unexpected text has completely obliterated the walls I’ve mentally erected around anything to do with my family, and now that they’re down, I can’t seem to stop talking. “Remus is the… for lack of a better word, he’s the head of our family. If he wants me home, there’s really nothing I can do about it.”

No one says no to the Mafia and lives to tell the tale.

“So you’re leaving?” Gail asks, her voice hoarse and her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“No!” I shout, startling both of us.

“But you just said—”

I wave her off. “I’ll find a way, Gail. I made the deal with my uncle before he died and every deal has a loophole. There are ways around it.”

“But what about—”

Again, I interrupt her. “I’ll figure it out.” Then I force a smile I don’t really feel. “I promise you I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, Abigail.”

She blows out a breath. “You better not be fucking with me, Lucia.”

I want to promise her that everything will be okay. Fuck, I want to believe that myself. And I need to get into that headspace, if for no other reason than because Gail can never know the truth about my family.

Gail and I spend another few hours drinking and talking, but it’s not the same. I can feel her nervous and concerned glances when she thinks I’m not looking, and I know she feels how tense I am. In the end, I give up and get up from the floor. “I’m going to get some sleep,” I say, forcing a yawn. “How about we go for brunch tomorrow? My treat.”

“Yeah,” Gail easily agrees. “Sweet dreams, Luce.”

After getting ready to turn in, I get naked and into bed. Normally, I end my evening with an orgasm or two courtesy of my pink vibrator. But tonight I don’t even reach for it. I’m not in the mood, and I doubt I’d be able to switch my brain off long enough to enjoy anything.

Fuck.

I knew this day would come, so it pisses me off that I’m so unsettled—scared, even. It’s not me I’m scared for, though. Not exactly. No, I know I’ll be okay. Remus won’t kill me unless he feels he has no choice, or if I betray him by running or trying to hide. If I do that, he’d have no problem tearing through my meager list of loved ones, killing them off one-by-one until he finds me.

Fuck.

Maybe going home to Rome wouldn’t be the worst thing. I have family, and surely I could look up some old friends. The cost would be my happiness, and very possibly my sanity. But… no. Fuck no. I’m not giving up. There are ways out, my uncle said I could stay if I got married. I really should have spent more time dating, maybe then I’d have a steady boyfriend—someone I could marry and learn to love.

It’s only now, in the darkness, that I realize I’ve gone about my freedom in the wrong way. I’ve let myself become complacent, weak, and not thought about the deadline I was given almost ten years ago. This is all my fault, and blaming Remus isn’t the answer.

Think, Lucia, fucking think.

Ugh, coming up with any ideas while my brain’s turned to mush from the wine and surprise text is impossible. Or maybe it’s just because I know how much I’ve fucked up. I can’t change the past, but hopefully I can rectify the mistake I made tonight. I should never have said anything to Gail, and I need her to think I was just having a melodramatic, drunken meltdown. I know my bestie, though. She’s not one to let things go. She knows me too well. But maybe if I manage to act all cool and aloof for the next week… maybe then she’ll let it go.

It’s not a perfect plan, but for now, it’s all I’ve got.