Chapter Twenty-Four
Tristan
The arena is electric. Venom jerseys fill the stands, the drumline pounds, and fans chant our names. The overall vibe is that of a New Orleans Carnivale, but I only have eyes for one person through the glass.
Minerva is up in the stands, wearing my number. Wearing my ring. Her hair is pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, and the joy in her eyes is electric. She’s grinning like she still can’t believe this is real.
Neither can I.
Something in my chest pulls tight—relief so sharp it almost hurts. I nearly lost her. I’m still not over it.
“Nervous about the game?” Knight asks.
I shake my head. I haven’t told the rest of the team about what happened when Minerva disappeared. After facing down Vito, I’m not going to get too worked up about a game. After all, I’m pretty confident that nobody here is going to pull a gun on me or leave a decapitated horse head in my bed.
“Nah, he’s too distracted by his fiancée.” Viktor makes kissy noises in my ear. “Keep your head in the game tonight, okay? Victory sex is always better than post-loss pity sex, am I right?”
Knight elbows Vik. “So thoughtful of you to look after Tristan’s sexual interests.”
“Dude, who cares about Tristan? If he lets his mind wander, we could lose, and then it’ll be pity sex all around. I’m looking out for me!”
The chirping fades under the one truth humming under my skin—she’s here. Mine to look for. Mine to play for.
I catch Minerva’s eye and lift my stick in greeting. Minerva responds by wiggling her fingers. That flicker of a wave—the same way she used to greet me when she barely believed she belonged here.
Now?
She owns the damn place.
Buffalo hung with us during the first and second, not giving an inch. It’s been tied at three for over twenty minutes.
As the third period winds down, every play is a war. Every pass, a heartbeat. We’re in our zone, grinding, shifting, pushing. I see Bowen out of the corner of my eye and know he’s got one more run in him.
“One minute remaining!” the announcer shouts.
Fuck overtime.
Buffalo’s center loses the puck, and I’m there, poking it free. It ricochets off the boards, right to Lenyx. He spins it forward to Bowen, who takes off down the right side. I race up center ice to give him a pass option, drawing defenders.
But it’s Lenyx who’s wide open.
Bowen sees it, threads a textbook pass across the crease just as Lennie skates into position. One-time slapshot. Pure heat. Straight through the five-hole.
GOAL.
The entire place detonates.
Briggs is probably in Dante’s box, going nuts and asking for a raise.
The horn sounds like a freight train. The lights strobe. Confetti cannons blast neon green. I scream so loud my throat rips, hurling myself at Lennie, who’s already skating backward with his arms spread.
Bowen’s the first to reach him, barreling into him with a flying hug. “You lucky bastard!”
“You’re just pissed I didn’t pass to you!” Lenyx grins, red-faced and winded.
“You were supposed to shoot it wide so I could tap it in for glory!”
“You’d miss the net if I gift-wrapped it.”
The boys pile on. We slam into each other, laughing, swearing, celebrating. I end up with Bowen on one side and Owen on the other, everyone chanting Lennie’s name as the ref signals the final ten seconds.
Minerva’s pressed up against the glass now, face flushed, grinning with her whole face. I tap my glove over my heart and point to her. She mouths, “I love you,” and I mouth it right back.
The final buzzer screams.
Game. Over.
Venom wins.
We flood the ice, sticks raised high, gloves tossed skyward. Knight’s helmet gets knocked off by Viktor in the world’s sloppiest hug.
“I swear to God,” Knight huffs, "if your cologne gets on my jersey, I’m filing a complaint.”
“File it with HR,” Viktor shoots back.
Lenyx turns to me. “You know what this means, right?”
I smirk. “You’re buying drinks?”
“I get to be smug for at least seventy-two hours. Minimum.”
“Fair.”
We skate off the ice, victorious and wild, the roar of the crowd still shaking the rafters. I catch one last glimpse of Minerva before the tunnel swallows us.
And I already know what I’m playing for next time.
* * *
Dante corners us in the player lounge on our way out. The rest of the guys scatter, since nobody wants to be chewed out by our boss. Dante waves them on until it’s only me and Minerva left in earshot.
“Nice win,” he says. “You kids should celebrate. Take the honeymoon suite at the Mona Lisa tonight.”
“Oh.” Minerva’s cheeks flush. “That’s not necessary—”
“Never said it was, but I won’t take no for an answer. I already called it in. No ferrets allowed, but Cannoli can stay with me and Julie if you want. And try not to break the headboard.”
Min’s cheeks go nuclear, but I just grin. “No promises.”
“Tristan!” Minerva swats at me.
She flushes, but there’s no shrinking in it anymore—just this quiet, wild pride, like she’s finally started believing she’s someone a man like me would brag about.
“If the kid doesn’t treat you right, you know where to find me.” Dante takes Minerva’s face between his hands and leans in to press a kiss to each cheek. “And don’t worry about Luca. I handled it.”
“What does that mean?” she asks.
Dante tuts. “Please, cupcake, you should know better than to ask questions with incriminating answers. All you need to know is that there’s no need to lose sleep over that waste of human flesh ever again.”
Minerva visibly relaxes. Part of me wishes that I’d been the one to provide that last layer of safety, but I’m pretty sure that I lack the intestinal fortitude for whatever Dante does in his free time. I’ll have to settle for finding other ways to make sure that Min feels safe and loved.
* * *
“Oh my God.” Minerva presses her hands to her face as she takes in the room. “Is this real? This seems fake. Is this Photoshop?”
“Nope, it’s definitely real.” I lead her deeper into the suite.
It’s two stories tall, with an open balcony on the second floor that looks down onto this one.
A kitchenette, sitting area, and wet bar all overlook the two-story indoor waterfall and riot of live plants that dominate the space.
To our right, windows overlook the Strip.
“This is amazing.” Minerva wanders over to the spread laid out in the kitchen area.
The main plate is a charcuterie board, but comparing it to the prepackaged trays of cubed yellow cheese and cheap pepperoni that I could grab at any store would be like comparing a Hennessey Venom F5 Roadster to a rusted-out Ford Pinto.
Fresh figs, beautifully marbled slides of prosciutto, mixed olives, pickled vegetables, pots of house-made jam, and slabs of bread still warm from the Mona Lisa’s room service ovens overflow from the arrangement.
An unopened bottle of champagne sits slantwise in a bucket of ice.
I’m always starving after a game, so I pop the champagne, pour us each a glass, and dig into the spread. Minerva takes her time assembling an open-faced sandwich with all the choicest morsels, then wanders around the room, taking it all in.
“Too bad we only have one night here,” she says.
“You think you’d want a space like this?” I ask between mouthfuls.
“An indoor waterfall?” She laughs. “Who wouldn’t?”
“I was thinking, you know, a yard. An outdoor space.”
The suggestion startles her. “You want to leave the condo?”
“Oh, maybe not yet, but I doubt we’ll want to stay there forever. I’m curious what you’d want in a home, if you got to choose.”
Min brushes her fingers over the leaves of one of the plants.
She went so many years believing that she wasn’t allowed to want things.
I want to build her a world where wanting isn’t dangerous.
Where desire doesn’t cost her anything. I don’t push her for an answer yet.
Knowing her, she’ll think about it, make a spreadsheet, hell, maybe even design the house herself before sharing her thoughts with me.
After a while she says, “I’ll think about it.”
“We could get a houseplant in the meantime, if you want. Something ferret-safe.”
“Could we?” The hope in her expression is so bright and pure that I can’t help but smile.
“Absolutely. Heck, we can get a bunch. Whatever you want.”
“Anything?” She polishes off the last bite of her open-faced sandwich.
“Anything.”
“What if I want you?”
The way she says it hits deeper than anything tonight. God, I’m done for.
“Not so fast.” I polish off the last of my champagne and reach for my bag. “I got you something.”
“Oh?” Minerva wiggles her fingers so that the silver-and-gold engagement ring catches the light. “Another present?”
I pull out a sleek black box. “Another ring, as a matter of fact. This one’s for me, though. Well, I’ll be the one wearing it, but it’s for us to share.”
“Oh?” Min wanders back over. “What is it?”
“My own version of a performance enhancement.” I show her the box so we can both look at the picture.
Heat spreads through her face and neck. “Oh! Is that what I think it is?”
“It’s probably better. It’s a cock ring with clit stim, a g-spot pressure point, and—” I tap my temple, then I shove it into my pocket for easy access. “I created a spreadsheet. I want to test your four-orgasm theory.”
Minerva smiles and reaches for me. “Alright. Let’s check out the bedroom.”
I pull her into my arms. She hops up to wrap her legs around my waist, going full koala. She’s light enough that I can carry her up the stairs to the bedroom on the landing without overbalancing, even with the added distraction of her mouth on my neck.
The bedroom is lovely, with its white sheets, sumptuous mattress, and ornate headboard. No wonder Dante doesn’t want us to break it. That thing must have cost a fortune.
I kick the bedroom door shut behind us and drop her in the middle of that ridiculous cloud of a bed. She bounces once, laughing, then scrambles up on her knees, eyes already dark and hungry behind her glasses.
“Clothes off, baby,” I rasp, stripping my shirt over my head. “I’ve been hard since I turned the doorknob.”
The jersey with my number on it goes flying somewhere.
No bra tonight, just those perfect little tits I’m obsessed with, nipples peaked and begging.
I shove my sweats down and produce the ring from my pocket.
It takes a strong tug, but it finally slides on, matte black silicone snug at the base of my cock, the curved arm for her clit jutting out.
Minerva’s gaze locks on it, and her tongue darts over her bottom lip. “That thing looks… dangerous.”
My nosy little scientist can’t help but reach out and touch it a few times, making sure to test all angles.
“Dangerous for you,” I growl, crawling over her. “I’m gonna wreck you so good you forget your own name.”
I push her thighs apart and line up. She’s soaked, dripping down her ass already, and the second the head of my cock nudges her entrance, she whimpers.
I sink in slowly, watching her slight body take me, the ring pressing that swollen nub against her clit with every inch. When I bottom out, we both groan, loud and filthy.
“Feel that?” I roll my hips once, grinding. “That’s the g-spot arm. And this—” I pull back and thrust deep, “—is the part that’s gonna make you scream.”
I turn the vibration on low with the remote in my hand. Her back arches off the bed instantly.
“Tristan!”
“That’s it. Let me hear you.”
I start moving, slow, filthy strokes, the ring buzzing against her clit, my cock dragging over that spot inside her on every thrust. She’s clawing at my shoulders, legs locked around my waist, already shaking.
“Too much, too, fuck, I’m—”
“Come, Min. First one’s free.”
She does, hard, pussy clamping down so tight I see stars. I don’t stop, just crank the vibration higher and fuck her through it.
“Round two,” I grit out, hauling her hips up. Sliding back in, I hit the new angle, and that makes her scream into the pillow. The ring grinds against her clit from the front now, and I can feel her getting wetter, hotter, fluttering around me.
“Look at you,” I rasp, spanking her ass once just to watch it jiggle. “Tiny little thing taking my cock like you were made for it. Gonna give me another one, baby?”
She nods frantically, pushing back to meet every thrust. I reach around, flick the vibration to the pulsing pattern, and she detonates again, whole body seizing, soaking the sheets.
I’m losing it. I flip her back over, hook her legs over my shoulders, and pound into her, chasing my own edge.
“Want one more, Min. Want you to milk me with that sweet pussy while this ring’s still buzzing your clit.”
She’s babbling yes yes yes, nails raking my back, and when she comes the third time I follow her over, groaning her name into her neck, cock pulsing inside her while the ring keeps vibrating against us both until we’re both shaking.
I kill the vibration, ease out slowly, and collapse beside her. She’s boneless, flushed, beautiful.
“Four-orgasm theory,” I pant, kissing her damp temple, “officially confirmed.”
She laughs, breathless and wrecked. “We’re buying ten of those rings.”
“Already ordered.” I pull her against me. “Welcome to engaged life, baby.”