Chapter 5
ELGIN
The next few days are much a variation of the same as the first. Ara spends his time entertaining me, and we go to bed together, where he sucks me stupid before falling asleep with his hard dick tucked against my ass.
He doesn’t answer any questions about Van Doren Technologies, but he has no problem telling me whatever I want to know about Empire, the people who now want me dead, apparently.
Since I’m at the very beginning of the off-season, I don’t worry too much. Ara assures me that this Empire gang will be taken care of far before I need to get back to hockey. He doesn’t tell me why he’s so sure, though I do ask. Often.
Things change on the fourth day. I get a call from the police telling me that my house had been ransacked. They requested my presence to tell them what had been stolen.
When I relay this to Ara, he shakes his head. “No. We already know who broke in. It’s a setup to lure you out.”
“I wasn’t their initial target, was I?” I ask.
Ara looks at me, his eyes traveling from mine down to my toes and back. I swear, it’s like feeling his hands all over, and I flush like a schoolgirl.
“No,” he answers. “Right now, that point is neither here nor there. We know they’re looking for you.”
“Maybe they’re looking for you,” I say, crossing my arms.
He smirks. It does things to me. Though I grit my teeth and ignore it at the moment.
We have an audience. I got the call at the breakfast table, so there are half a dozen people there with us. I’m not expecting Ara to grip the back of my neck and bring my face into his. My eyes shoot wide as I stare into his charcoal depths.
“Let me take care of this, Ellie.”
Honestly, if he asked for my left nut in that tone, I think I’d give it to him. I’m helpless to do anything but nod.
“Conference,” he says.
I’m confused by the word, but I realize it’s not for me. The rest of the room moves while we remain locked with our lips a breath apart. “I’ll protect you,” he murmurs. “But you have to let me.”
“I had no idea I wanted protecting,” I say. Of course, the words were not meant to come out of my mouth, so I burn hot when they hang between us. Especially when he grins.
“Let’s go, hockey player,” he says. This time, I know he’s talking to me. Not just from the ‘hockey player’ thing or because we’re the only ones left in the room, but because he stands and pulls me along with him.
We move into a conference room that looks all high-tech and shit, with a massive curved monitor on the far wall and a keyboard control panel full of blinking buttons sitting on the table. There are a dozen people inside, men and women, all in suits, sitting around.
Ara pulls a chair out for me. The way he looks at me makes me flush. There are people around. They’re all seeing this.
One of the men at the table reaches over and taps a button on the control panel. If I was convinced before that Ara Van Doren was rogue and doing his own thing without his family knowing, I’m quickly corrected when the very recognizable Van Doren logo appears on the screen.
I give Ara another considering look as he takes the chair beside me and pulls the panel toward him. Then he looks at me. “All you have to do is nod or shake your head in response to the questions. Okay?”
Frowning, I nod. “Am I not allowed to speak?”
“You are when we’re not on the phone. You can speak freely when we’re offline.”
“Then what the hell kind of operation do you have going here? Are all the legit businesses a cover? What did I get shoved into?”
Ara gives me the same smirk he has every other time I’ve asked a variation of these questions over the last several days.
“You said I could ask whatever I want when we’re offline,” I point out.
“I did,” he says, tapping another button. The screen shifts. “I didn’t say I was going to answer your questions.”
I roll my eyes and sit back. Those in the room hide their smiles as they look into their tablets, phones, or at the giant monitor.
“Just listen, okay?” Ara says.
I nod. What choice do I have?
He hits a button, and the ringing fills the room. This isn’t just speakerphone; it’s surround sound.
“Philadelphia East precinct. How can I direct your call?”
“This is Arath Van Doren, Elgin Bolingbrook’s attorney.
My client has just informed me his house has been broken into.
He doesn’t feel comfortable returning to the scene.
I’ll have someone from my office on the property within the hour to take pictures.
Mr. Bolingbrook will be in touch with a list of any items missing,” Ara says.
Or rather, Arath.
I narrow my eyes at him. Isn’t it a crime to lie to the police? Wait. How old is this man? Maybe he is an attorney! What the hell do I know about him, really?!
“Mr. Van Doren, nice to speak to you. I assume you’ll be sending over the appropriate paperwork for the officers at Mr. Bolingbrook’s estate?”
“Of course,” Ara says.
“You’ve spoken to your client this morning?”
“I have.”
“He’s safe? Report said there didn’t appear to be any evidence that he was present, but we haven’t seen him, and he sounded a little frazzled over the phone.”
Ara looks at me. I give him a shrug. I was frazzled. My house was broken into, and there’s some gang trying to kill me! The only threat I’m used to is being shoved into the boards during a game. This is all very new.
“He’s very safe.”
“Does he have any enemies?”
Ara looks at me, and I shrug. Are we counting people who don’t know me at all but want to murder me as my enemies right now? What about the New York players that I was facing off with on the ice last month? Are they my enemies?
“He doesn’t any more than another celebrity athlete might.”
The conversation continues for another minute before it ends.
“I have the initial report,” one of the women in the room says. “There’s no evidence for it being a crime of passion. It’s very methodical. Impersonal.”
Ara nods. “As we suspected.”
“Is there a chance that it truly is a random hit?” I ask. “I haven’t been home in days.”
“Don’t hockey players have tournaments away for a week at a time?” he asks.
“I’m trying not to be offended by your lack of hockey knowledge.” Ara grins. “Yes, we’re gone for a week or more at a time for away games. Maybe someone has seen the pattern, is all I’m saying.”
“With all due respect,” a man at the other end of the table says.
“My guess would be if someone is watching your house for this pattern, they’ve already identified who lives there.
Which suggests that they’d know you play for the Hatters and that your season is over. Your reasoning falls short, then.”
“You like hockey,” I say.
He smiles and bows his head.
I throw a grin at Ara. “At least someone in this room has good taste.”
“Indeed,” he says in such a way that my toes nearly curl in my shoes. Fucker.
“Can’t you get into trouble for lying to the police?” I ask, trying to cover my fluster.
“About being your attorney?” he asks.
“Are you an attorney?”
Ara nods. “I’ll show you my degree later.”
That sounds dirty. I don’t answer.
“Any other questions, hockey player?” Ara asks.
Huffing, I shake my head. I have plenty, but I don’t think the answers I want are going to be offered.
Ara turns to the table. “Since we’re already here, let’s debrief from the maneuver this morning. Any progress with Empire?”
I’m thrown wary glances, but no one points out that I probably shouldn’t be here for this conversation. Ara isn’t in a hurry to make me leave, so here I sit. I listen, and I swear, it feels like I’m in a video game as they talk about surveillance and targets.
I get distracted when Ara’s hand lands on my thigh. It’s stationary at first, but then it’s not. His fingers slip between my legs and slowly move north. Apparently, I’m a horny fucker these days because my dick is straining in my pants, reaching for his hand. Ready to shake and make friends.
Taking a deep breath, I stare determinedly at the blank monitor with the Van Doren logo bouncing around like an old school screensaver. His thumb brushes my dick, and I very adamantly bite my tongue.
When the phone rings, the sound filling the entire room, I jump. Ara doesn’t remove his hand, which is now cupping my crotch and rubbing me in a way that’s completely inappropriate for this setting. I’m desperately trying not to pant or climb into his fucking lap.
“Van Doren,” Ara answers, his hand not missing a beat.
“Mr. Van Doren. I’m sending pictures of the Bolingbrook estate. They’ll be with you momentarily.”
“Thank you.”
Ara leans forward, his fingers digging into my balls. I groan but manage to cut off the sound by clearing my throat. He taps a button, and the screen in front of us fills with an image of my kitchen. The cabinets are turned inside out.
I look at Ara. He doesn’t really think I’m going to be able to concentrate on this, does he? Damn, infuriating man looks at me expectantly, the hint of a smile on his lips. With our eyes locked, he very pointedly rubs my cock.
The glare I give him should be threatening enough that he feels it.
“Leave us,” Ara says.
The room moves as one, with everyone pushing their chairs back and getting up. Once they file out, the door shuts behind them.
I’m out of the chair in the next second, Ara having pulled me to my feet. He hauls my pants down. With his hands on my hips, he picks me up and sets me on the large conference table in front of him. Before I can protest, his mouth is on me. Swallowing me down.
“Fuck,” I hiss, my hips thrusting forward to meet him on reflex.
He slurps, and the sounds make my balls twitch with excitement.
Ara pulls me forward so my ass is nearly off the table.
To keep from falling completely, I jerk backwards, my back hitting the hard table.
My head lands on the panel, and lights flicker.
A buzzer sounds briefly, and the screen begins flashing.
Ara chuckles, pulling his mouth away from me to reach for the panel. One switch and the room quiets down.
Charcoal eyes meet mine. With his hot, intent look locking me in place, he picks my legs up and brings them over his shoulders, so I’m boxing his head in. He licks a finger, sucking on it dirtily. I narrow my eyes as he pulls it out and presses it to my asshole.
My breath catches.
“Relax, Ellie,” he says in that sexy-as-sin voice. “I’ll make you feel good.”
His mouth returns to my cock. My eyes roll back as his tongue flicks over me while he sucks like a vacuum. It’s a distraction as he toys with my hole, gently placing pressure before letting up. I become attuned to the pattern after a while, which is when he strikes and pushes it inside.
I grunt, my hips jerking forward.
But his mouth is sucking me like a lollipop, never letting up. The finger in my ass is a weird distraction, but it’s not painful. It’s strange and foreign, and I’m not sure if I hate it or am indifferent to it.
That is, until I feel the burn and the stretch. I gasp, shoving my ass toward him for some reason that doesn’t make sense. Ara buries my dick deep in his mouth, ruts his face into my groin, and presses his finger inside me until I’m shouting.
My hips move on their own. My legs flex, pulling him to me as I jerk as if I have currents streaking through my body. I do. The pleasure is hot and intense, and before I realize what’s happening, I’m coming hard.
When my head stops spinning, I’m staring at the ceiling and gasping like someone just choked the life out of me. Ara presses kisses to the inside of my leg, his hands rubbing my ass cheeks.
“Motherfucker,” I hiss.
He chuckles, that dark sound that reaches my soul. I try like fuck not to shiver.
“Feel good, Ellie?”
“I think I might hate you,” I say.
His laughter is something else entirely. I hate that I really, really like the sound.
“As long as I’ve earned your wrath.”
I glare at him, but hell, that orgasm was epic. Apparently, I’m totally down for butt stuff.