13. RYAN #5
I moan, circling his wrist. “Tate. If you start that, I’m not going to get to hear the rest, and I know there’s more to know. Like … what did you mean by you’d give my dad to Kline?”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s boring, and you’re so edible.” His lips find my collarbone. He’s intent on distracting me.
“Tate.”
He heaves a sigh. “It’s a failsafe. He’d rather marry your father for reasons I’m still extracting from him by promising him something he wants so he’ll be open to negotiation.”
“But you would do it.”
“If I have to, yes.”
I get what Tate’s not saying. My father will never let me go. Taking him off the board is a reality I have to face. Breaking free from my father’s prison has a cost. I didn’t ask for it, but I might have to pay for it anyway.
“So, the will. I’m a solution?” The truth of that’s a punch to the chest. It shouldn’t be. Tate’s never promised more than the horse trade we originally proposed. Thankfully, his face is buried in my neck, so he can’t see my face.
God, I’m pathetic.
Stupid.
But he’s so … protective. He seems so obsessed with me. It fucks with my head.
That’s what he does. He charms. He dazzles. He’s not even secretive about it. As soon as he gets what he wants, I’ll be stuffed in a box next to Pearl.
“Why are you telling me this now?” I demand before he can answer. Maybe I don’t want to know the answer to that question. He’s not telling me just for me. He’s refused for weeks, so something must have changed.
Tate pulls back. “You said you needed proof. You made it clear that knowing why I needed to marry was a dealbreaker for you.”
Is he saying he gives a fuck about me and my feelings, or that he’s willing to do a lot—even divulge information he doesn’t want to, which for Tate is a valuable currency—to secure this marriage?
It’s probably the latter, but my lame-ass heart whispers to me like a bad nineties rom-com. He didn’t have to pick you. So many others would have agreed to this without making him grovel like this.
But then I remember what he said, I’ll know about his secret life. That will make things easier for him. It hits me.
“Luke doesn’t know, does he?”
Tate freezes. “Not a thing, so if you could keep this all to yourself, I’d appreciate it.”
I roll my eyes, because when do I ever talk to Luke?
“He knows about you, though,” Tate adds.
My breath catches. “He does?” Why is my heart beating so goddamn fast?
“Of course. I can’t just show up with a husband; I had to spin a believable tale for him.”
Oof, second gut punch. He only knows about me because I’m part of Tate’s lies to get, and keep, what he wants.
He’s studying me now, which means something in my demeanor has tipped him off to my inner conflict.
But like the predator he is, the assessment ticking in his eyes takes on a cool and calculated texture.
It’s not the same as feeling something’s off with someone.
It’s pure danger or not-danger evaluation.
“He accused me of having feelings for you.”
That high hits my veins like a drug again, instant relief from the irrational melancholy that was threatening to seize me.
“Don’t worry, though,” he says. “No chance of that happening. I don’t know how to do that.”
Third gut punch for the hat trick. God. What a damn roller coaster. I’m … no. I cannot start falling for Tate. If I am, I have to halt that shit. I don’t even need to think of reasons why—he just said them all.
I swallow. “Good. Neither of us wants that.”
“Neither of us,” he agrees, painfully digging his fingers into my flesh, as if he thinks I might escape him, and he won’t stop staring with those intense steel-gray eyes of his. They’ve changed. There’s something more there.
Fuck.
Stuff like that. It’s confusing. His words say one thing, but his body language says another.
He gives his head a shake as if he’s releasing a thought. “Anyway, commissioner will be my new cover story. I need something to explain my fortune.”
“Commissioners make as much as you do?” I raise a brow.
“No.” He laughs. “Not even close. But it’s much better than my pitiful college hockey coach salary. Enough that it’ll be believable for Luke. Especially when Clarence does what I know he’ll do, and keeps my fucking money.”
“What will you do with your Lambo? Commissioner money will never buy you that.”
“No. Luke can never see that.”
I wrap my leg around him, needing to be closer, because apparently an inch of space between us is more than I can bear right now. He presses his naked chest against mine. We inhale together.
“Now that you know, will you finally marry me, dollface?”
“No.”
“Don’t like that word. What more do I have to do?”
I toy with his scar again. I need the distraction from his handsome face and smooth voice so that I can think. Tate’s right. He’s my best option. A monster to protect me from all the other monsters.
But Tate’s fucking unhinged. Ending up in a glass case next to Pearl isn’t something I’d put past him.
“You’re the no hockey option. Even Kline was going to let me play hockey.”
“Kline was lying. And it’s not about letting you. Being away from you for nine months of the year is not an option, dollface.”
“Travel with me.”
“I have to be here to keep everything afloat,” he reminds me. “And with how much everyone in your family’s elite circle is tied into hockey, the commissioner position has become more than just a good cover story for my brother. It’s a source of valuable connections I can use to keep you safe.”
He’s right. Having all this—the money, the name, the power—is what will enable him to protect Griff and me. Without it, we’re cooked.
I don’t know what kind of happy-ass ending I was hoping for. Rainbows and unicorns? That was never in the cards for me. It’s more apparent than ever that this is my reality. I’m going to have to make a sacrifice for my family. As long as they’re happy and safe, then I’m happy.
“Yeah, okay, yeah. I get it.”
“It’s strategy, dollface. Dominoes. One thing leads into the other.”
I nod, leaning forward to rest my head against his scar. Tate’s booming heartbeat thunders under my ear, and I swear my heart syncs with his rhythm. Is that a thing? Or am I turning into the creepy one?
No, scratch that. Tate will always be the creepy one.
“Don’t you dare put me in a glass case next to Pearl.”
“That’s ridiculous. Pearl’s rarely in her case; she’s usually with me. Just like you’ll be.”
I almost ask where he’s going to put me when I’m not “in use,” but maybe I don’t wanna know. My friends are afraid of Ethan, but Tate’s the scary motherfucker. The one I’ll be spending the rest of my life with.
“I said I would protect you, and I mean it, Ryan,” he says. “Haven’t I shown you what I do to those who hurt you?”
Kline is probably still shouting in the dark. “You have. But it could all be part of your plan. Make like you give a fuck, so I believe you do, pull the rug out when you have what you want.”
He laughs. “That is something I would do, can’t deny that.
” Tate leans back till I’m looking into his steely eyes.
“I’m not right on the inside, Ryan. Up here,” he says, tapping his head.
“If my uncle were here, he’d tell you all about the piece of work I am.
Twisted, selfish, his very own monster with no soul. ”
“That guy sounds like the piece of work,” I say, while Tate’s hand around my neck gets tighter. He’s not really here right now, as if he’s trapped in a memory. “Tate? Tate.”
He jolts, giving his head a quick shake. His hand loosens, moving to cup my cheek. Tate slides his other hand to my heart, his eyes fall to my chest, timing my breath to heartbeat ratio. Does it calm him? Am I an egomaniac for wanting to be the person who can soothe the savage beast?
“So long as I’m above Pearl,” I say to pull him out of whatever hell he was just pulled into. Tate thinks of me as a possession.
He gets it immediately.
“You’re jealous.”
“Fine, I’m jealous.”
“Don’t need to be, dollface. I think it’s time to introduce you two since you’re going to become best friends. She’ll fuck you while I stroke my cock, and you beg me to stroke yours.” His eyes fill with desperate hunger. He bares his teeth.
Fucking god, why is that so hot? I should be appalled. I am appalled. But I’m also filled with so much arousal my nuts are ready to burst.
Yeah, I’m so going to end up in a glass case next to Pearl, but I’d better always outrank that bitch.