Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Freedom Mansion
Robyn
“What crisis?” Anxiety surges through me. I rush after D’Angelo down the dark corridor. I’m still naked but naked panicking is a thing, right? “Why is Dad calling you in for a meeting tomorrow?”
Alarmed thoughts skitter through my mind.
It’s never good when Dad calls his captain in for an emergency meeting.
This month, however, the Bay Rebels have outperformed any previous month in their history. Shay is now officially their highest scorer.
If the Bay Rebels can hold onto their lead throughout February, then they have the best chance the Bay Rebels have had to make the Stanley Cup playoffs.
Why would Dad want to call D’Angelo in to kick his ass?
And why just him?
The answer has to be fucking Heine.
I glance at D’Angelo, who is striding next to me with a clenched jaw. His hand is tight in mine.
D’Angelo dragged me down this elegant corridor after the phone call, when I was still relaxed and fucked out bent over the banister.
I’d been expecting to wait for Shay and Eden to join us.
Instead, D’Angelo whispered, “I had a room added just for you. It’s a surprise, principessa. I won’t let anything ruin this day.”
My bare feet are cold on the wooden floorboards.
How long is it going to take to reach this surprise? Freedom Mansion is so large that I’m going to need a map.
I can just imagine myself getting lost on the way to breakfast and ending up as the skeleton in the wine cellar that becomes the local urban legend.
Because I’d bet my monster dildo collection that there is a wine cellar.
D’Angelo taps on his left thigh with his free hand rhythmically in patterns of three. His eyes are glassy.
He’s spiraling.
“I don’t know.” He doesn’t look down at me.
“I‘ve played the best hockey in my life since Christmas. The team have pulled together, despite only having a temporary coach. Atlas has stepped up. Zach has been a fucking legend with his number of saves. Even Grayson and Lucas have cut back on the frat style shit and come together with the team like brothers. I’m proud of them. Plus, Shay, well, you know what I think about him. He’s outshining the stars of the NHL.
There’s a reason that we’re under such intense press scrutiny. ”
I puff out a breath. “It’s fucking relentless. I’ve been steering it away from the negative, however, into the positive. This can’t be a PR crisis, unless there’s something you haven’t told me.”
D’Angelo’s lips thin, but he shakes his head.
“Of course, there can always be more stories about me. There was the time that I danced in a cage at On the Rocks dressed in only high heels. My ass looked stunning. Then there’s a photograph of me in circulation being fucked by the referee after a game in the locker rooms. Once, I drank too much in a hotel, shocking I know, and I vaguely remember playing the piano in the hotel lobby and singing the Spice Girls’ “Wannabe”. ”
I yank him to a stop.
“Oh, god.” I stare at D’Angelo, wide-eyed. I work hard not to laugh. “You didn’t do this…?”
I hold up my fingers in the gesture for girl power.
He grimaces. “I won’t admit to that even under torture.”
That’s a yes then.
“Maybe you should write down a list for me.”
“Isn’t it more fun to hear about them as surprises?
Like this room I’m about to show you?” When D’Angelo’s eyes glitter with amusement, I’m relieved to have at least driven the glassy look away.
His hand stills on his thigh. “The press already call me a puck boy. I lost my sense of shame a long time ago. I’ve proved over this season that they can’t screw me on my reputation, and what matters is how I play on the ice. ”
“Eden has been working hard as your official photographer to show less of you dancing, fucking, and drunkenly singing and more as the stern captain who holds his team together. Eden is amazing at running the social media accounts to gain you global fans. We’ve both worked to be Shay and your shield.
You’re now less the Misfits and Losers and more the brave Rebels taking on the bigger teams and winning. ”
“But not to the owner of our own club.” D’Angelo’s eyes are icy. “Charles Heine and I made a deal. Charles shouldn’t have come back to America. He drugged Shay and you. I’m going to wreck him.”
He turns sharply on his heel, heading down the corridor.
Even thinking about Heine is a trigger for D’Angelo.
My shoulders stiffen with concern.
I hurry after him. “He hurt you too.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“You matter.”
D’Angelo doesn’t look around. “Charles pushed past my limits. He didn’t respect my consent or safeword.
But he’s also broken. His dad is a monster, and I wish that I’d been able to see how damaged Charles was earlier.
One day, he will meet the wrong dom, and what he’s begging for will get him killed.
But that doesn’t mean I will let the asshole hurt the people I love just because he thinks that he can use his wealth to buy anyone he wants. ”
Suddenly, he turns to me.
He’s become ashen.
“Do you think that’s what I’m doing?” D’Angelo reaches to cup my cheek; his hand is shaking.
“I’m not. I’ve just never had anyone to spend my money on before.
It feels better than anything in the world to give the twins what they’ve spent their life missing out on.
They’d never even been to the beach before I took them to my beach house.
Spending the last few months designing our home for us and knowing that I can provide for you has made me happier than I realized I could be. ”
“You’re not buying us,” I reply. “We’re already yours.”
He gives a crooked smile. “Would you still want me if I was that poor scholarship student who you met in college? The one without enough money to eat?”
Fiercely, I push myself up to kiss him, biting his lip like I need his full attention for my next words. “Jude D’Angelo, I’d love you even if we had to live in a cardboard box.”
He curls his hands around my waist, and his shoulders relax.
He smiles, before biting my lower lip back and then licking it to soothe it. “And I’ve always loved you.”
“I wanted the twins, didn’t I?” I need D’Angelo to understand this.
“They had no money. Young newbies. Then Eden’s injury lost him his pro career, before he started as your PA.
What’s important is that everyone is happy.
Whatever happens with our finances, we’ll figure it out together.
It doesn’t matter how much or how little one of us earns, right? ”
D'Angelo shakes his head. “Not to me. So, I get to spoil you all.”
“Spoil away,” I reply, airily.
When I shiver, D’Angelo slips off his jacket and hangs it over my shoulders. “You’re easy to spoil, cara mia.”
I hug his warm jacket around me, taking a deep breath of its fresh, masculine scent.
D’Angelo’s suit jacket hangs almost to my thighs. Somehow, it makes me feel more undressed and not less. Yet I love how secure it also makes me feel.
I’m held and safe in D’Angelo’s strength. It’s a dominance that supports and never tears down.
“Almost there.” D’Angelo beckons to me with a glint in his eye that makes me blink and begin to question all my life choices.
“This isn’t a dungeon, right?” I stumble after him. “A panic room? A secret closet to display the heads of your defeated NHL rivals?”
D’Angelo levels me with a stare. “Darker guesses than I was imagining.”
“You’re rubbing off on me.”
“Not now. Maybe later,”
He stops in front of a high oak door.
He smiles, soft and with a hint of vulnerability. “This room is for Eden and you.”
He pushes open the door and steps inside.
My heart beats, as I follow him.
Eden and me…?
Now, I’m imagining that I’m going to be bowled over by mewling kittens…or possibly squirrels.
“Shit.” I gasp, twirling.
I look around myself in amazement at the most astounding library that I’ve ever seen.
Sunlight streams through floor to ceiling arched windows over floors that are painted like tumbling pages. The windows themselves frame the beautiful view outside to the forest garden like illustrated pictures from a fairy tale.
The ceiling is high and vaulted.
Alcoves that run the length of the room and reach all the way to the ceiling are filled with colorful books.
A spiral staircase, which looks magical enough to have been made by fae, leads up to a second floor of books.
I stare around myself in wonder.
D’Angelo is as ethereally beautiful as a fae.
This place is incredible.
And now, it’s mine.
“Did you really build this for me?” I whisper, overwhelmed.
A circular nook has been created at the back of the room complete with piles of golden, velvet cushions and soft blankets in the midst of the books.
It’s an omega’s nest.
D’Angelo swaggers to lie on the nook like a fallen angel in shirt sleeves. Sunlight catches on his sharp cheekbones and gleaming black curls.
“I thought that Eden could come and spend your book club evenings here.” D’Angelo spins a cushion between his hands. “Although, I’m mostly certain that’s your secret code for wild, intense sex. It’s always the quiet ones.”
He’s half right.
Eden and I do choose and read a book together every month. Then we have wild, intense sex.
I wander through the rows of books in awe, running my fingers along their spines. “This is an omegaverse section. You may even wring a smile from Eden, when he sees that you’ve sorted this library by genre. This must have taken you days to work out.”
“As much as I want to lie here and bask in your praise, I did plan the layout and it did take days to put all the books up, but luckily, my friend who runs Freedom’s bookshop was in charge of the job.
Everett was as excited as you are. I do listen sometimes to your chatter about books, you know, even if I don’t understand why someone would want something with a knot at the end of their cock rutted into them. ”
I smirk.
D’Angelo can’t have seen the Alpha specialist dildo that I ordered last month. I’ve noticed, however, how Shay has been eying it. He’s more than eager to have a knot rutted into him.
D’Angelo drops the cushion and leans on his elbow. “What are you smirking about, principessa?”
“Just wondering how you managed to choose all my favorites.”
“I may have looked through Eden and your Kindle histories.”
I blanch.
Kindle reading histories are as sacred as your porn search history.
Shouldn’t there be a law or something that punishes people who sneak a look at either?
I spin to D’Angelo with flushed cheeks. “You didn’t. That’s a violation of boyfriend trust or—”
“How many books do you need to read that involve milking monsters?”
“Neve dared me to read those.” I wag my finger at him. “It was this whole reading challenge and… I’ll milk you, if you’re not careful.”
“Promise?” D’Angelo flashes a dangerous grin, watching me from the nook of luxurious cushions like some kind of book demon, as I wander amongst the shelves.
A tempting book demon.
My smile softens. “Thank you.”
“The look on your face — like a feral bookworm — makes it worth it.”
“Try and get between a fan and a special edition on release day, then you’ll see a truly feral bookworm.”
Suddenly, I glimpse a huge pile of envelopes in the corner of the room. It’s almost high enough to reach the roof.
Confused, I stroll closer and nudge them with my foot. “Are these all for Eden and me as well?”
D’Angelo cranes to look and then shakes his head. “Everett must have collected up the post and stashed it here. You know what it’s like this time of the year.”
“Sorry to break it to you, but it’s not Christmas.”
“Valentine’s Day.”
I gape at him. “You get this many cards…?”
I have received exactly one genuine Valentine’s card in my life and it was from Cody, when we were in high school. He was trying to make me feel better for never receiving one.
Newsflash to siblings: it doesn’t make you feel better to excitedly rip open a card thinking that it’s from a secret admirer, only to discover a note inside from your protective younger brother:
To my amazing sis! If the guys can’t see that you’re the strongest and most beautiful girl in this school…fuck them.
Code x
“Of course not.” D’Angelo smooths down the front of his shirt. “Most of the cards are sent to the arena. This is just a small number from the superfans who have found out my private address. I will be talking to the security team about that.”
“Wilder didn’t believe in giving Valentine’s cards or gifts.
” I’m heavy with the memory, drawn back to a time when I’d been isolated.
“He said that we were married, and I was a dumbass for buying into consumerist bullshit for wanting something. Most Valentine’s, I was left alone in our apartment, while he went to practice.
Of course, I later learned that he’d actually been out with other women and bought them gifts. ”
D'Angelo sits up.
“In two weeks,” his expression is threaded with steel, “I will make sure that you have the best Valentine’s Day of your life. And I rather go in for consumerist bullshit.”
I believe him.
I smile, suddenly feeling light again.
“I can’t wait.” I reach for the top card. “How can you just leave these here? Aren’t you excited to open them?”
“I’m already committed to my lovers,” D’Angelo replies, dryly. “You may have met them.”
I snatch the largest card, which is the size of one of the cushions in the nook. “It’s nice though to be sent them.”
“I wasn’t going to open them.”
“I’m pretending that they’re mine.” Enthusiastically, I rip off the scarlet envelope in a flurry of paper like I’ve turned rabid.
I can’t help it.
It’s good to have an outpouring of love directed at the team, rather than hate, for once.
The card is a giant red queen of hearts playing card. It’s one of those luxury, customized cards, which is made out of deluxe satin material.
It would probably take me a couple of weeks to pay for it.
I hug it to my chest with an exaggerated sigh. “Somebody loves me.”
D’Angelo chuckles, crossing his arms.
I open the card with difficulty since it is as large as I am.
I read out loud the poem, which is written in looping, confident handwriting in the center of the card, although I lose steam on each horrifying word:
My Knave,
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I love you to death,
And I’m coming for you.