Chapter 10
brIELLE
“What the fuck?” I sputter.
The man in front of me doesn’t so much as blink at my outburst. He’s much too unfeeling for that, I’m sure. Though that reminder seems to help my instant mortification bleed more into outrage territory, because are you kidding me?
It’s one thing to not be attracted to me and explain that like a grown-up. It’s another to be brutally blunt about it in a clear attempt to get me to back off. That shit actually hurts.
“I’m going to give you a chance to take that back and say it a little nicer before I slap you,” I warn, offering him a decency that I usually never do.
Curse him for being so fucking attractive. Not to mention my brother’s boss. I can’t say that me storming forward and smacking him silly would end well for Wes.
Roman wears his unfeeling facade like it’s the most natural thing in the world while twirling the black ring on his thumb. “I’m not going to take it back. I meant what I said.”
“So, you’re just a jackass, then. What a shocker.” I pop open two fists on either side of my head, mimicking a brain explosion.
A vein in his temple pulses. “Have a good night.”
I laugh too loudly. The moment my brother’s head swings my way, I inwardly cuss myself out.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, sliding up to Roman with Beck on his other side. “Rome doesn’t have a funny bone in his body.”
Roman doesn’t look away from me as he answers him. “That’s untrue.”
“It’s okay not to be funny. Some people just can’t pull off a sense of humour. I’m sure you have other attributes,” I state sweetly, smiling wide.
The older man tightens his dark gaze on me and shifts on his feet. I glance down at the expensive, glossy black shoes he’s wearing and roll my eyes.
Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking. A guy as uptight as Roman Shore wouldn’t have a clue what to do with me, and that would have been undoubtedly worse than what’s happening right now.
With a casual shrug, I bypass him entirely and focus on Beck. The team’s playboy doesn’t miss a beat before sending me the same wink I’ve been on the receiving end of a thousand times. Unfortunately, it has the same effect now as all the others.
He may be hot as fuck with the whole bad-boy thing going on, but he’s not my type. I’m outgoing enough for a group of people. I don’t need my future boyfriend to meet me stride for stride in that department. That sounds like more of a punishment than a reward.
Then there’s the matter of my jealousy.
I’m self-assured, sure, but I’ve also battled a potentially damning habit of getting a tad too possessive in the past. There’s just something about being so obsessed with a partner who seems to blind me from remembering they’re mine when I witness them offering too much of their attention to someone else.
I don’t care if I’m judged for it. It’s a part of who I am. Sue me.
Being with someone like Beck, who’s had more girlfriends than I bet even he remembers, sounds like my worst nightmare.
“What are you drinking?” I ask him, dipping my eyes to his glass.
“Beer. Want one?”
I crinkle my nose. “Absolutely not. But I won’t say no to a glass of champagne.”
“You got it,” he drawls, reaching for one of the tall bottles sunken into the ice bucket.
As he wipes the dewy neck dry with the bottom of his shirt, I get a flash of tanned, muscled stomach and a thick treasure trail. My blood heats before I rip my eyes away, forcing them to the ceiling. Absolutely not, Brielle.
I need dick tonight. One that doesn’t belong to anyone with a Havoc jersey in their closet.
“You haven’t really gotten a chance to talk to my sister much, hey? I don’t remember the last time we were all in the same place together,” Wes says.
Chomping down on my tongue, I swing around and glare at him. He ignores my annoyance and continues blabbing.
“She’s at a lot of the games and is actually a huge baseball fan. I’d bet she knows more than you do.”
Kill me now.
“Is that right?” Roman asks blandly.
I straighten, finally looking at him again. He holds my gaze, not wiggling beneath the rage burning within it.
“Yes, actually. Does it surprise you that a little girl could know more about baseball than you?”
Wes clears his throat, following it up with an awkward laugh. “I don’t think that’s what he meant, Elle.”
“Well, was it?” I push, crossing my arms.
Roman’s dark chocolate eyes sweep low for a brief second before they’re back on mine. “No.”
“What an explanation,” I mutter.
“Alright!” Wes claps his hands and takes a step to the side.
He grabs the glass of champagne from Beck and all but shoves it at me.
I take it before he can slosh it all over my outfit, knuckles white from my tight grip.
“How about we switch gears. Someone tell me who the hell the opener is tonight.”
Beck jumps in, supplying a long-winded explanation that I ignore. My head is elsewhere, my stare lingering across the suite. Roman’s already turned away from the three of us and has started down the stairs leading to the seating for the show. Good riddance, is my initial thought.
I should follow him, is my second.
And fuck my life, because as badly as I hated everything about how easy it was for him to turn me down, I don’t think I’ve ever been so hard up for someone.
That’s a problem I need to fix.
Soon.
My brother was officially hammered by the time Aubrey and Finn finally arrived.
The new couple has been attached at the hip since I let her go back to him after getting the rundown on their date. In all honesty, tonight has sucked. Other than getting a front-row seat to how happy my best friend is, everything else has put me in a terrible mood.
Not only am I still angry and horny, but I’m embarrassed by the drunken admissions Wes made earlier about my love life for everyone to hear.
Roman included. It’s not news to anyone who knows me that my past boyfriends have sucked.
Most of them have used me for access to Wes or his friends, and that’s made it hard to open up to new people.
It’s part of the reason why I prefer to hook up with guys who don’t know me as anything but a random girl at a club.
It’s mortifying to have my dirty laundry wafted around for everyone to hear.
Even now, I can still feel the effects of Roman’s clear judgment after Wes blurted out that my love life and the shitty men that fill it are a problem because I’m too blind to know better.
“Don’t be an asshole, Wes!” I shout, embarrassment flooding through me.
“I’m not! I’m trying to look out for you. What was that other guy’s name? Rob?” Wes makes a gagging noise with his finger in his mouth. “He showed up at my house and tried to get me to autograph a box of jerseys! I mean, I love you, Elle, but come on. You should be able to see the signs by now.”
Aubrey pulls me into her body, ever my dutiful protector, as I hiss, “So, he was a fan. Sue me for not being able to realize quickly enough when I’m being used. You’d think I’d be a professional at it by now. My apologies, King Wes.”
Roman cuts in before Wes can answer me. He suggests ordering pizza, and I choke on my laugh, immediately drawing into myself. Even though he’s glaring at my brother, I know he’s thinking a thousand insults that he wants to shoot my way.
We’re out with the team, and there are responsibilities that come with that.
You have to act civil with everyone, smile at the fans while pretending you don’t care that they’re interrupting whatever it is you’re out doing.
There are things you don’t do. Having a blowout with your brother in the middle of a semi-public suite where anyone across the arena could be recording us is one of those things.
Despite all the alcohol he’s consumed, Wes straightens, blinking rapidly at the glaring team manager.
The opening act comes to an end, and the arena lights lift, flooding the suite as clapping erupts.
My brother slips off his bar stool and walks to the top of the stairs with his head slightly lowered.
I consider laughing before Roman’s laying his attention on me instead. His gaze reeks of annoyance, and I speak without thinking.
“Don’t look at me like that. This was my brother’s fault. And you’re the one who chose to come. If it’s past your bedtime, maybe you should go home and sleep.”
Aubrey sucks in a breath beside me. There’s a groan that fills the suite, flowing from Wes’ chest, and then silence. It’s the worst kind of quiet.
“I’m looking at everyone the same. There are eyes on this team, regardless of where we are.
Do you think there aren’t other attendees’ cameras pointed up at this very moment, all of whom are looking for something to post about later?
If Wesley wants to drink himself silly tonight, then by all means.
You can be the one to catch his vomit, Brielle. ”
My nostrils flare with the strength of my inhale. Stepping forward half a step, I snap, “Thanks for the tips, Dad. I’ve grown up with a professional athlete as a brother, so I’m well versed in appearances. But—”
“Anyway!” Aubrey cuts me off, grabbing my hand. “Who wants to pop one of these bottles of champagne?”
I stop listening to her. Roman’s eyes burn into mine, neither of us wanting to back off. My fingers twitch at my sides, the sparkles on my hip rubbing against my thumb. The warm drip of desire becomes a flood when his pupils expand, swelling wide enough to betray his arousal.
When he speaks next, it’s to declare what food we’re shoving down Wes’ throat. I’m too focused on the way his voice rumbles across the space between us and curls around my middle to contribute to the decision.
The last thing I’m hungry for is pizza.
The rock music swells around me, reminding me that I’m no longer back in the suite.
I’m standing against the railing down in the seats instead.
It’s hot and sticky so close to the crowds flanking our suite and dancing below us, reminding me of all the times I’ve been someone squished between strangers in the public seating.
This is a completely different experience.
Our rows of secluded chairs are empty behind me.
All but one.
I sway my hips to the unfamiliar song, letting the heavy drumbeat vibrate up my legs. The ballplayers gathered around me and Aubrey are completely tuned in to the performance, and I can’t help but smile to myself, happy that I get to be a part of this tonight.
Wes is at the front of the line of bodies with his arms in the air and his voice carrying the sloppy lyrics the loudest. Even from way up ahead, he’s easy to hear over the other guys and Noah Hutton himself.
Aubrey left with Finn a couple of songs ago.
As jealous as I am that she’s got someone who loves her the way Finn does while I’m very single and alone, I’m so happy for her.
She deserves this.
The song changes with a guitar riff that has Beck bouncing in front of me. He whips around and flashes me a flushed grin before gathering my hands in his and bringing them to his neck. A laugh explodes from my throat as I dance with him, struggling to keep up with his excited movements in my heels.
“That’s better!” he shouts, dipping his head just enough that I can hear him better. “You should be having fun!”
“I am.”
He rolls his eyes and brings one of my hands up, forcing me to twirl. My cheeks burn from the smile the move pulls from me. “Like this, Elle!”
“You’re a terrible dancer,” I tease, already anticipating the next spin.
When I twirl toward him this time, he tucks me into his chest and brings his mouth to my ear. His whisper startles me enough that I stop swaying, going still with the heat from his body slamming hard into mine.
“Giggle for me, sweetheart. He’s been watching from the moment I turned around.”
One look to my left is all it takes to confirm his statement, because sitting alone four rows from where I’m standing, Roman Shore is watching.
And suddenly, I know every word he told me earlier was a bald-faced lie.