Chapter 6 Bates
Serena looks way too good for me to be this far from her right now. She’s running around her office in that same red dress I bought her, but this time, her hair is up in a ponytail, a red ribbon wrapped around the base, tied into a pretty bow.
Her back is exposed, and I know if I ran my fingers up her spine, her skin would be soft and smell like the sugar cookie lotion in her bathroom. She looks fucking incredible.
She carries a tablet in one hand and her phone in the other, both in use as she greets the arriving guests, who are dressed to the nines for their blind dates.
I don’t miss the way some of the men’s gazes linger on her longer than they should, like they secretly wish she were their date.
I know they’re thinking it because I would be too.
“Finnegan?”
My attention is pulled back to the present, where I’m sitting beside Kol and Cas at the media table in front of a room full of reporters after our game tonight. I shouldn’t even have my phone on me.
I never let myself get distracted from my responsibilities, but she has me throwing caution to the wind lately.
Fuck. What was the question?
I rack my brain for the answer but fall short. I’m being so unprofessional, and I’m sure my coach will ream me for it later, unaware that he’ll be scolding me for watching his daughter.
“Bates isn’t feeling great right now.” Casper speaks clearly into the microphone. “You may have to repeat yourself for Sicky over here.”
Everyone chuckles lightly, and I kick Casper’s foot under the table. He grunts in response, a playful smirk on his lips.
The reporter repeats himself. “You guys have managed to stay hot through the season. You started strong and have only gotten better. Your team is on a sixteen-game win streak after tonight. One win away from tying the record for the entire league. So …” He trails off with a smile. “Are you guys going to beat it?”
The corners of my lips tip up, and my brain automatically shifts into PR mode, answers forming on my lips from the countless media training meetings I’ve had—the same ones all pro hockey players have had.
I know how I should answer. I know what the PR team would want me to say … but instead, I grab the mic and lean forward, resting my arms on the linen cloth covering the six-foot-long table. “We’re not going to stop there. Beating the record is only the beginning.”
Cas chuckles next to me. “All right, all right. Let’s not jinx anything now.”
I shrug and hold my hands up in surrender before winking. “Just a fact.”
“Next question,” someone in the wings mutters, and the room’s attention shifts to a different individual in a suit, holding a recorder in their hand.
“Casper …” A reporter addresses him.
I tune out the question after I hear it’s not directed my way, and I take the reprieve to check on Serena.
Leaning back in my chair, I peek at my phone beneath the table. I have to swipe through a few screens to find the right room she’s in, but eventually, I do.
It takes me a moment to realize what I’m looking at. She’s with Kerrigan in one of the conference rooms, which is decorated in every hue of pink and red, complete with twinkling lights and candles.
Serena’s speaking to a guy—who, might I add, is standing far too close to her for my liking. His body’s relaxed as he smiles down at her, his lips moving with eagerness.
For fuck’s sake, I can practically see the shine in his eyes from here—a sparkle I’d like to permanently erase if he keeps it up.
She’s not encouraging the interaction—at least not in the way he’s hoping. Her posture is strong, her smile professional. She’s simply doing her job, and he’s taking advantage of her kindness.
Maybe they know each other or are old friends.
I ponder the thought for a moment before realizing that I couldn’t care less if they’re pals.
He doesn’t get to look at her like that.
He doesn’t get to lean forward when he laughs, desperate to close the gap between them.
He certainly isn’t allowed to sneak a glance at her ass when she turns to answer someone.
Old friend or not, I’m a single touch on her shoulder away from storming out of this interview, consequences be damned.
Glancing up, smiling, and nodding, I find the clock at the back of the room. The interview’s almost over anyway—only five minutes left. I can show enough restraint to do my job. If not for me, then for my boys and my future father-in-law.
Until then, I feel like I’m going to lose my mind, watching this guy hit on her.
An idea sparks, and initially, I ignore it. But as the seconds tick by and the guy continues to smile and flirt with Serena, my resolve quickly fades.
I’m swiping out of the app before I realize it, the live feed minimizing to a smaller, movable screen as I open the message app.
She doesn’t know I have her phone number or that I’ve spent hours typing and deleting messages to her over the past month. But after our last encounter, I know a text won’t scare her off. If anything, it’ll just stir the coals of our fire.
If he smiles at you again, I’m storming in there and dragging you away from the party.
She should see it almost immediately. Her phone is in her hand. But the two-second delay is eating me alive.
I can tell her body reacts to either the sound or vibration. Her attention shifts to her phone screen as she lifts it up and reads my message. She ignores the man for a moment, and I can’t help but smile as his shoulders fall ever so slightly at her disregard.
Her body straightens, muscles going rigid as she glances around, casually trying to search for me.
I don’t know how much I want to let her in on.
What would she think if she knew I was spying on her through my hidden cameras right now? Would it turn her on the same way my watching eyes do? Or would that be crossing her moral line?
Kerrigan glances at Serena’s phone, well aware of who I am and our relationship. She steps forward, stealing the guy’s attention as Serena turns her back and types into her phone. I receive a message not a moment later.
Serena: Are you here? How did you get my number?
Do you want me to be? I don’t think that would be good for either of us with him being that close to you.
Like I said, I know everything about you, including your phone number, emails, social medias …
Serena: You’re so possessive
I watch her bite down on her bottom lip—the only sign I need that she likes it as much as I do.
You have no idea.
Serena: If you’re not here, then how do you know and what are you even going to do about it?
You’re not going to bait me out of the shadows like you did last time. You forget who’s in control.
Serena: You’d better come remind me then
Be careful what you wish for, Little Cupid.
My dick twitches in my pants, and I clench my jaw as I glance up to the room of reporters.
Locking my phone, I tuck it into my pocket. Although it’s tucked in my pants, our messages hidden away, I can’t think of anything else.
Kol finishes saying something into the mic. I smile and nod along with Casper, doing my best to cover up my obviously distracted mind.
Someone from our media team steps forward, stopping in front of the table. She thanks the reporters for coming. We stand up from our chairs and push them back in. I can feel the glare on me before I register the scowl on her face as she turns to me and looks up with disdain.
“If you need to step away to take a call or text, that’s fine. But ignoring the reporters to sit on your phone isn’t okay, Bates, and you know that.”
I can tell she wants to say more, probably tell me off, but she stays professional.
“Sorry, it was family stuff,” I murmur, not technically lying. I consider Serena my family.
No one would probably consider a guy flirting with their partner as an emergency, but I do.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Next time, just let us know, and we can work something out.” Her face softens, and she dismisses us with her hand before fielding a reporter’s follow-up questions.
Thank God.
“Got to go,” I murmur to Cas and Kol.
I beeline it around a corner to head to the parking garage. They laugh at me, but I pay them no more attention.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I find another text from Serena.
Serena: I’m waiting
Serena: …
This fucking brat. She probably thinks she’s safe from my grasp, surrounded by all those people. But I’m watching and waiting, and when the time’s right, I’ll strike.
On my way
I watch the camera’s feed. Her chest quickly expands with a sharp breath before she bites down on her smile and tucks her phone into her purse.
Her head is on a swivel, like I’ll materialize somewhere in the room in the blink of an eye. If only it were that easy, I would have shown up far sooner.
The guy begrudgingly talking with Kerrigan dismisses himself and walks away toward the table full of desserts. I wonder if his date ghosted him or if he ditched them. I couldn’t care less about his love life; I care more about his intentions for still lingering around.
Serena draws my attention, strutting across the conference room with Kerrigan at her side. The long red ponytail swooshes across the middle of her back. Stretching my hand out, I flex my fingers, feeling the urge to wrap them around those pretty strands.
Everyone’s heads turn to them as they pass by. Some stare. Some steal a passing glance. Regardless, she draws the focus of the room wherever she goes.
Aside from the guy hitting on my girl, the rest of the event is buzzing. Each small round table is decorated with a white linen cloth, flower arrangements at the center, and candles setting the mood in the dim lighting.
My Little Cupid is such a hopeless romantic.
Some of the couples are overjoyed and can’t stop smiling at one another. Others are clearly not having as good of a time. But I’m proud of Serena nonetheless.
The place looks great, and I know she spent, like, two hours earlier cutting and folding those cute paper hearts that are now hanging from the ceiling.