Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Silas
The BeastMode+ Endurance Drink sponsorship gala is everything I hate.
Bright lights. Fake smiles. Men in suits who measure your worth by your last stat line and whether you'll move product. I'm stuffed into a jacket that feels like a straitjacket, tie strangling me slowly, standing in a ballroom that smells like money and cologne that’s trying too hard. I feel like a circus sideshow act that’s being brought out and paraded around.
Look at the freak! Isn't he terrifying?
It doesn't help that I tower over everyone else, or that I'm built like a big, boxy refrigerator that knows how to skate. They call me Ice Man. I let everyone think that’s all I am, because it's easier than admitting the truth.
I'm not cold. I'm just terrified of letting anyone close enough to see how badly I want things I can't have. So I play the part. Stone-faced. Unaffected. Frosty inside and out. Better to be the machine than to let them see me break.
"Silas!" Enzo spots me. It isn't hard, even in this crowd of giants from my team. I stand out no matter where I go. Enzo might be tall and look good in a designer suit, but he's easily almost half a foot shorter than me.
A vindictive little voice in the back of my head whispers, Scout notices the height difference. She'd probably be excited that my dick is bigger than Enzo's, too.
Keeping the smirk off my face is impossible.
"Enzo." I cut through the crowd easily, because people naturally move out of my way. It's the same here as it is on the ice. "I'd say it's nice to see you, but we both know that would be a lie."
Enzo gives me an oily smile. I size him up, wondering how sugar-sweet Scout ever fell for this idiot. He's going to tolerate whatever comes out of my mouth because I make him a fat paycheck.
"Circulate," he says. "The sponsors are looking for someone intelligent and personable. We're trying to sell you as that combo."
I nod, looking around. Mostly I’m thinking that I should just cut Enzo loose right now. Yeah, he is making deals for me. He’s brought me a lot of success. But I can’t even look at him without feeling guilty.
Scout is my temporary roommate and nothing more, but I still feel a lot of loyalty to her. Even though I have no real reason to, other than despising Enzo’s treatment of Scout.
"Hey." Enzo snaps his fingers at me. "Go talk to the sponsors. Try not to be a fucking caveman. This is a six-inch tap-in, Huxley. Don't let it bounce off your damn stick."
Glaring at him, I shake my head and move toward a group of BeastMode execs. They're the shortest men in this room and have been cackling amongst themselves the entire time I've been here. I suck in a deep breath and put my game face on.
I can do this. One more obligation I have to grit my teeth through before I can finally cut him loose.
Working my way over to the group, I introduce myself.
There are the usual joking comments about my height and frame.
Questions about how I keep my fitness level so high, as if I don't work out four to eight hours per day, every day.
Talk about the product and how I could fit it into my routine to maximize my workouts. Blah blah blah.
"I'm actually already a fan," I lie. "I'd... uh... be excited to represent a product I actually use."
I've never once tasted BeastMode+, but I'm sure it has the same sickly sweet fake cherry flavor as every other endurance drink I've ever had. One of the execs claps me on the arm because he's too short to reach my shoulder. He tells me the team's very interested in me and my story.
Great. Just great. Someone just shoot me now and put me out of my misery.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Scout. She has a clipboard and a headset. She's wearing a black dress that hits just above her knees. It’s modest and professional, though seeing her in a semi-dressy outfit does something to me.
But the way it fits her body isn't professional at all. Not to me. Her curls are pulled back, showing her neck. She's not trying to be noticed. Too bad that’s not remotely possible. Has she even seen herself in the mirror lately? All curves and temptation.
I stare, willing my cock to calm down. I didn't know she'd be here tonight. If I had, I would've asked her to be my date. Not that she enjoys my company or anything. But at least I could hover close and put my hand on her lower back.
I'm pathetic. So desperate for affection I'm dreaming of stealing it in public where she can't make a scene.
I watch Scout adjust a banner that's crooked.
A waiter passes by her and she grabs him, pointing to a group that's looking around for service.
She smiles at a sponsor's wife who looks lost and engages her for a few moments.
The BeastMode execs mill around me, making jokes and suggesting promo ideas.
But my eyes are only for Scout. She's always working. She makes everyone else's life easier while she disappears into the background.
It makes me want to drag her front and center. Everyone should get to see what I see.
As I watch Scout, Theo Kozlov corners her near the refreshment table. Kozlov's a rookie defenseman with a cocky smile and hair gelled within an inch of its life. He leans in too close, hand gesturing at the room like he's offering her the world on a platter. My whole body tightens.
It's so loud in here. I can't hear what he's saying from across the ballroom, but I can read her body language.
The way she takes a half step back, the tightness in her smile that doesn't reach her eyes, the polite shake of her head.
Scout is willing and soft, but she doesn't want whatever he's selling.
Kozlov is young, overenthusiastic, and used to women who swoon whenever he swings his attention their way.
So even though Scout's eyes dart around, looking for a way to escape, he keeps talking anyway.
He gestures at himself, then at her, then at the crowd of photographers setting up near the entrance.
My jaw locks when I realize what he's asking.
He wants her on his arm for photos like she's some kind of pricey accessory.
Proof he's important enough to have a pretty girl next to him for the cameras.
Scout sucks in a breath and looks unhappy.
But in the next second, she bobs her head and starts toward the photographers.
And because he's a fucking moron, Kozlov signs his own death warrant by touching the small of her back as he urges her onward.
I see her stiffen, her cheeks coloring. Oh, he's a fucking dead man walking.
Before I even decide to move, I'm crossing the ballroom in long strides, shoulders squared. The fire that's always present for me, smoldering, ignites like a wildfire that fills my veins with red-hot fury. Everything in me is coiled tight and ready to snap.
"...just think it would be good for both of us," Theo's saying when I get close enough to hear. All charm and zero awareness. "You'd look great in the photos. I could use someone who knows how to work a room. Win-win, right?"
"I'm not sure you want to pick me. I'm on the team's payroll," she says, her voice hushed. "It might look a little... fake?"
"Nahhh." He drapes his arm around her shoulders, which makes me see red. That arm might be better off dislocated and separated from his corpse.
"Get the fuck away from her," I growl. Lunging, I separate them. I'm not even sorry about using my size to make him take a step back. His eyes widen and he drops his arm, stuttering.
"Hey, man. I didn't see you coming. I—" He licks his lips and looks to her for help. Pathetic. "We were just going to take some photos."
"She's not a prop, Kozlov. Get your own damn dates."
Theo blinks, startled. His cocky smile falters. "Whoa, man, I was just..."
"You were just leaving." My voice drops lower, lethal. "And if I ever hear you talk to her like that again, I'll make sure you spend the rest of the season riding the bench. Or playing in the minors. Your choice."
His face goes red. He mutters something that might be an apology and bolts like his ass is on fire.
Scout's hand lands on my chest before I can chase after him. Warm and small. Her touch steadies me in a way that makes me want to cover it with my own.
I haven't been touched like this in so long. Not with care. Not even to calm me down. Her palm burns through my shirt. Every nerve ending screams for more contact. I want to grab her wrist and hold her there. I’m desperate to pull her closer, but I don't.
She looks up at me, those green eyes searching my face. "Silas. Calm down."
I look down at her. Her eyes are wide, worried but not afraid. She seems concerned for me, not about me. The realization knocks something loose in my chest.
I touch her shoulders, rubbing them slightly. "You all right?"
"Of course." She's still touching me. "He was just being a rookie. I would’ve done it."
"That doesn't make it okay."
Before she can answer, Enzo materializes with two BeastMode reps trailing behind him. Perfect timing, as always. His eyes land on Scout's hand on my chest, and something ugly flashes across his face.
I nod at the reps. Keep my mouth shut. It's easy enough to let Enzo do his job while I silently plan his firing in excruciating detail.
My hand comes up to gently brush against Scout's back.
It's hard to pretend interest in this fucking conversation when all I want is to drag Scout out of this room and somewhere quieter to resume our conversation.
I'm pretty sure it's going to lead to me kissing her senseless.
One of the suits gestures at Scout with his drink. "And who's this lovely young lady?"
Before I can answer or introduce her properly with the respect she deserves, Enzo laughs. He’s putting on a show.
"Oh, that's Scout. She works as a gopher for the Havoc." He grins like he's sharing an inside joke. "We're here to talk about my man Silas, not to meet all the support staff."