2. Ren
TWO
Ren
I t always takes me longer to get my shit sorted and leave the arena than it took me to play the game.
If there’s one thing I always tell all these up-and-comers, it’s that it’s never too early to start taking care of your body. I often wonder if I would have an easier time now if I had thought to do that twenty years ago. Pretty sure the majority of my aches and pains now can be blamed on fifteen-year-old Ren treating his body like it was never going to get old or break down.
And we won’t even think about what twenty-five-year-old Ren was doing because lord knows that guy was a fucking moron.
By the time I get back to my condo, it’s the middle of the night. I don’t bother turning on any of the overhead lights, the illumination of the moon through the large windows being enough for me to make it through the main living area and down the hall toward my bedroom.
I dump all my gear in the entryway, kick off my shoes, and slowly half-limp my way through the living room, stopping off at the kitchen briefly to grab a recovery water I left in the fridge.
Only a few years ago, I would have gone out after a game. Now, the idea of having to sit in a bar or a club surrounded by a bunch of people and loud noises makes me cringe.
I make my way down the hallway, stopping to look out the window, always appreciating the city skyline at night. I lean into the glass, pressing my forehead against the cold surface as my knees and ankles remind me exactly how old I am.
Sighing, I push myself away from the window, continuing the short journey to the master bedroom. I walk through the doorway, sliding my hand up the wall to flip the light switch, where I then blink twice, stopping in my tracks as I shout, “What the fuck?” My hand goes to my chest as my heart attempts to leave my body, and I bend at the waist, bracing my hands on my knees as I shout, “Jesus fucking Christ, you scared the shit out of me.”
A quiet laugh breaks through my cursing, and I push myself upright, my hands moving to my hips as I glare across the room.
Her smile is incredibly smug, and she leans back in the large chair she’s sprawled in, humor glinting in her eyes. “You a little jumpy there?”
How the hell Cassidy Logan got into my apartment is beyond me, so I feel the need to ask, “How the fuck did you get in here?”
“Pretty sure I own the building.”
“Your father owns the building.”
“Same fuckin’ thing.”
My hands move up until my arms are across my chest as I sputter, “What do you want?”
“You.”
My jaw falls open in complete shock for the second time tonight. Frankly, I’m so shocked by her statement that my body’s not even entirely sure if it’s interested.
Which is entirely preposterous because, if nothing else, Cassidy Logan is fucking hot.
I turn and point to the door. “Get the fuck out.”
Once again, she smirks. “No.”
“Are you for fucking real right now?”
The smirk falls from her face and she shrugs, not making any move to stand. She’s quiet for a few long moments, staring at me intently until I squirm and ask, “Well, are you going to do something?”
With a deep sigh, she sits up, leaning forward so her forearms are braced on the tops of her thighs as she looks up at me. “I need your help.”
“There’s not a fucking chance in hell I’d ever help you.”
“I think you will, once you hear me out.”
“I don’t want to hear shit.”
“Well, that’s too fucking bad. Because I’m not leaving until you at least listen to what I have to say.”
“Or what?” I ask incredulously. “Are you gonna threaten me? Attempt to come up with some harebrained scenario where you can turn yourself into a victim to use against me?”
“Whatever I have to do.”
“You’re un-fucking-believable,” I spit out angrily. “You’ve gone out of your way countless times to cause trouble for me, and then you show up here uninvited in the middle of the night and threaten me in the hopes that I will listen to you?”
Her close-lipped smile is a bit sheepish, but then she nods. “Pretty much.”
Well, I wasn’t expecting her to just agree with my description of the situation, but here we are. I rub my hand over my face, groaning in frustration, but then I meet her gaze head-on. “Fine. But we’re moving this conversation to the living room.”
I turn and walk out of the room without saying anything else. I walk directly into the living room, turning on the lights as I enter, and I’m almost surprised when I stop beside the sofa and see that she’s actually followed me without comment. I motion for her to sit, and she does, crossing her legs and resting her hands on her knee as she stares up at me. “Would you please sit down?”
“Why? You won’t be here long enough for me to bother getting comfortable.”
She rolls her eyes at me and huffs, “I don’t need you lording over me while I explain.”
I grind my teeth, wanting nothing more than to grab her and bodily toss her out the door. She has quite literally done nothing but attempt to create trouble for me for years, so the fact that she thought it would be okay for her to show up at my place without an invitation and make demands is ludicrous to me.
The other part of me wants to get my lawyer over here or even call a neighbor—any kind of witness I could call in a court of law to refute any outlandish claims she might make when I refuse her offer.
She continues to stare at me, obviously waiting for me to stop “lording” over her, so with another heavy sigh, I move to the far end of the sofa, where I fall down onto it haphazardly and somewhat dramatically. “Is that better?”
She relaxes slightly and mutters, “Yes. Thank you.”
She kicks her shoes off, bringing her feet beneath her as she turns to face me, one of her arms resting in her lap as the other is braced along the top of the couch.
I turn my body slightly so she can’t accuse me of not paying attention, and then I wait. She stares at her legs, and then the back of the sofa, and then a spot on the wall behind me, and finally, I say, “Just fucking spit it out, Cassidy.”
She was so lost in her own thoughts that she jumps and then laughs nervously as her eyes connect with mine. I raise my brows at her, waving a hand in a motion indicating that she should get it fucking over with.
“I’m gonna need you to marry me,” she rushes out, and I can only assume the look on my face is a mix of shock and horror because when I open my mouth to respond, she holds a hand up. “Let me finish.”
I snap my mouth shut, forcing myself to relax, even though every part of my body is on edge because there is no reasonable explanation for what she’s asking.
She stares at me, the look in her eyes rather haunted. “Just to be clear, I don’t like you at all. I’ve seen how you operate. I’ve witnessed firsthand how careless you are, and I believe you’re an irresponsible, borderline irredeemable fucking asshole who treats women like cattle.”
I frown, sliding to the edge of my seat. “Well, this fucking conversation is over.”
“Fucking calm down, Ren. I’m doing a shit job explaining, but give me a minute, and I’ll get to it.”
“There can’t be one decent reason you would want to marry someone you have such a high opinion of.”
She sighs, her hands fisting in frustration as she mutters, “Okay, maybe the cattle comment was a bit too far. But you have to remember I’m used to going out of my way to antagonize you. It’s not something that just goes away overnight.”
“Well, for the record, I gave up any kind of playboy ways a long fucking time ago. And also, any woman you feel I may have treated like ‘cattle’ were perfectly happy with the arrangement at the time.”
She rolls her eyes, her lips twisting, but then she nods. “Yeah, I know. If nothing else, it seems none of them have ever had a bad thing to say about you.”
“What exactly is it about me that offends you so much?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe just because you’re breathing.”
I laugh hollowly, once again sliding to the edge of the seat, but this time, I do stand and turn toward her as I say, “Well, unless you plan on marrying me just so you can become a widow, this entire conversation seems pointless.”
Cassidy looks around the room, suddenly appearing like a caged animal, and then she jumps to her feet, closing the short distance between us so she’s standing directly in front of me. “Regardless of your reputation or how I feel about you, I know if you make a deal, you’ll fucking stick to it. I won’t have to worry about you trying to cheat me.”
“Surely, you can find a whole line of willing and highly acceptable men for the job.”
Her lip curls, her arms cross over her chest, almost defensively. “Believe me. None of those men give a shit about me. The last thing I want is to end up stuck with some smarmy douchebag Daddy would approve of.”
“Is that what this is about? Daddy’s approval?”
She frowns and then laughs bitterly. “If this was about Daddy’s approval, I wouldn’t be fucking standing here in front of you, would I?”
I squint down at her and then nod because that is absolutely true. I take a couple of steps away from her, needing to put a bit of distance between us, and then I turn back to face her. “Okay, give me the important details of why you thought it would be a good idea to show up here and proposition me with this insanity.”
“Well, my dad’s lawyer approached me the other day to remind me of some fine print in my trust fund.”
My snort interrupts her explanation, and she gives me a dirty look. I incline my head in the way of a shitty apology, and then, after a moment, she says, “I have to secure a husband before my twenty-fifth birthday. This isn’t the first time I’d heard about it, but I genuinely believed all the previous mentions were a bad fucking joke. His lawyer has now assured me it’s not a joke, and I’m running out of time.”
“What kind of archaic bullshit is that?”
She shrugs with her entire body, irritation lacing her tone as she sputters, “I don’t fucking know. I tried to talk to my dad about it, but he wouldn’t budge. Instead, he provided me with a whole list of eligible suitors who would happily take me off his hands.”
“Take you off his hands? What the fuck does that mean?”
She rolls her eyes, taking a few steps toward me, only to immediately pivot and walk in the other direction. She paces back and forth, her movements jerky as she explains, “Apparently, my father’s insistence that I get a college degree and prove myself was a complete waste of time. Now that I’ve had ‘my fun,’ I’m supposed to settle down and let the men handle things.”
“I can see how that might be fucking irritating.”
“You have no fucking idea. And let me tell you, this list of eligible suitors is fucking laughable. It’s mostly a bunch of spineless patsies, and the handful of men I know are complete douchebags.”
“Bigger douchebags than even me?” I reply teasingly.
“Yes, if you can imagine,” she replies without hesitation. She stops pacing, then turns, and looks at me. “So you understand my dilemma, then?”
“I don’t see what it has to do with me,” I answer honestly.
She sighs, her shoulders slumping, and raises her hands in front of her. “I already told you. I may not like you, but I trust you to follow an arrangement. I trust you to make a deal with me and to uphold your end of the bargain.”
“How do you know that?” She shakes her head and shrugs, her eyes focused on her hands still suspended in front of her. She looks sad and lost, almost helpless, so I ask, “And what are the terms?”
Her eyes jump to mine, her hands finally falling to her sides. “You want to know the terms?”
I walk back over to the sofa, falling onto it tiredly, resting my head on the back. “Well, you’ve come all this way. May as well see if it would benefit me at all.”
She rushes toward me, excitement in her eyes as she drops down on the sofa beside me, her hands squeezing my knee as she exclaims, “It would benefit you greatly. Because I have exactly what you want.”
“And what is that?”
“The team.”
I blink at her, sure I misheard what she said, or if nothing else, I’m misconstruing what she’s insinuating.
Before I can say anything, she adds, “It’s yours. If you do this for me, if you help me beat my father at his own stupid game, I will give you the team.”
My breath gets caught in my throat and I have to clear it a few times, and still I croak, “The team?”
She nods vigorously, likely knowing she’s got me on the hook, and as much as I want to shut her down, shut her up, and kick her out, that’s one big fucking hook.
“Free and clear.”
Slowly, I straighten, sitting upright and holding her gaze as I ask, “And what do I have to do, exactly?”
Her lips press together again, her body tensing as she appears to be steeling herself to relay information I may not like. And if there’s a chance I may dislike it enough to give up the chance to own the team, it’s gotta be pretty fucking big.
“Go ahead,” I say softly. “Just fucking spit it out.”
“Well, obviously, the marriage has to be real. Doesn’t matter if we have a big wedding, go to city hall, or Vegas, but it has to be legal.”
“And?”
“And we have to live with each other. We don’t necessarily have to share a bedroom or anything, but we have to reside under the same roof. If there’s any evidence of there being an arrangement, anything that could make him look foolish, everything will be null and void, and I’m pretty sure I’ll be disowned.”
“Okay, so we’re the loving married couple in public?”
“I’m serious, Ren. There can be no shenanigans. Ever. The very last thing we would want is a cheating scandal.”
“Well, I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a fucking cheater,” I reply tersely. “How long would I be forced to enjoy my own company?”
She frowns. “What do you mean?”
“How long would I be expected to go without sex?”
Her lips twitch, her eyes widening slightly, and then she laughs. “I’m pretty sure sex is required in a marriage.”
I shift in my seat, the earlier shock having long worn off until the mention of sex gets all sorts of attention. “So, you mean the marriage itself won’t be fake, then?”
“Well, it can be to a point.”
She immediately has difficulty meeting my eyes, and I groan, knowing she must not have gotten to the actual kicker yet. “What else, Cassidy?”
“I’ll get everything signed over to me, and my dad will fully retire after I fulfill the full terms of the trust.”
“And what does this entail, exactly?”
“Marriage.”
“For fuck’s sake, Cassidy. Marriage and?”
“An heir,” she says in a rush.
Once again, I find myself blinking at her blankly. I slide back down on the sofa, sprawling with my head once again resting against the back. I close my eyes and mutter, “Of course. Why should I be surprised.”
“I know, I know. It’s not ideal, and it is a huge price even for ownership of a professional hockey team.”
I peek an eye open at her and mutter, “So I marry you, impregnate you, watch you grow and birth my child, and then what? You expect me to piss off into the wind?”
“No. I would never expect you to turn your back on your child unless that’s what you truly wanted. But I believe once the terms of the marriage have been met, we could easily co-parent together. You would have your team; I would have some semblance of freedom.”
“You wouldn’t consider yourself then shackled to motherhood?”
“Better to be shackled to something of my own creation than people who would want to control me in all other areas of my life.”
“But you’d also be shackled to me? Because that’s what co-parenting is. And I’ll tell you right now, it would be a 50/50 arrangement for my entire life.”
“Still a far better deal than the alternative.”
“And what are the terms regarding the length of this marriage?”
“Once the heir has been born, divorce proceedings can begin. So, depending on how long it takes to conceive, I figure we’re looking at one to two years. Assuming you’ve got good swimmers, of course.”
My hands come up and cover my face at the mention of my swimmers. “I can assure you there’s nothing wrong with my swimmers.”
She giggles, and when I look over at her, she’s attempting to hide her smile behind her hand and failing. “Hopefully, you won’t have any issues with performing, given your intense dislike for me.”
My hands fall away from my face, and I stare at her incredulously. I’m not sure if she’s actually na?ve or if she’s feigning ignorance, but if she pays one iota of attention to me sitting here sprawled beside her in my goddamn sweatpants, she’d know my body has zero problems with the idea of fucking her.
“I guess that’s one plus of being a man. I don’t necessarily have to like you to want to stick my dick in you.”
She squints at me, and I laugh as her cheeks pinken slightly. Wanting to push her buttons a bit more and increase her obvious embarrassment, I shift my hips, and when her eyes meet mine, I look down, drawing her attention to my lap and the obvious erection in my pants. Her eyes widen comically, and this time, her hand over her mouth cuts off her gasp of surprise. And then she mutters, “Ren. Oh my god.”
Now, I laugh, getting genuine enjoyment from her discomfort.
She slides over, putting about a foot of space between us and annoyance bubbles up inside me. I sit up, closing that distance between us and lean in as I say, “What do you say, princess? Do I get to take you for a spin before I make my decision?”
Her gasp of outrage increases my annoyance, so I grit out, “What’s the matter, princess? You think you can just come in here and dangle a whole fucking hockey team under my nose and I’ll agree to give up the rest of my life without any kind of assurance you’ll be able to fulfill your end of the bargain?”
“I said I’ll give you the fucking team,” she sputters angrily. “What other part of the bargain is there?”
Fury rushes through my veins, and even though I’m not entirely certain what has me so pissed off, I reach out, delving my fingers into the hair at the back of her head as I jerk her close to me. “And blindly resign myself to being saddled with a cold and frigid woman?”
“I’m not fucking frigid, you asshole. Just because I don’t throw myself at your feet, doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a healthy sex life.”
“And that’s where we’re different, princess. You refer to it as a healthy sex life, and I refer to it as pure, unadulterated, animal fucking.”
Her breath hitches at my words, and her body shudders, and for a moment, I almost release her. But then she says, through gritted teeth, “I can give you pure, unadulterated, animal fucking, you goddamn dickhead.”
I chuckle, my lips ghosting along her cheek. “I don’t fucking believe you.”
She turns her head away, and I take the opportunity to grip her hair harder, pressing my face against her neck, my body tightening at the choked moan that falls from her lips as my teeth nip her pulse point. Then I pull back, staring into her eyes as I say, “I bet you like to lay there on your back pretending a pencil dick and some flowery words will be enough for you.”
The slight tinge of desire on her features evaporates, fury sparking in her eyes as she snarls, “You motherfucker.”
She uses my brief moment of surprise to her advantage, knocking my hand free from her hair. She locks her hand around my wrist, jerking me around as she surges forward. Unable to right myself in time, I slide to the floor, and she uses the leverage of her own momentum to come down on top of me. She straddles my shoulders, her knees coming to rest on both sides of my head, her feet hooked over my biceps. She watches me, her eyes glinting in victory, but then I taunt, “That all you fuckin’ got?”
She’s wearing thin, cotton yoga pants, and with only a few inches separating her pussy and my face, I smell her arousal. I inhale deeply, not bothering to hide my intense interest. She cocks her head, smiles knowingly as she twists and moves one foot beneath her. She moves her hips forward, pressing her clothed pussy directly against my mouth. “That’s right. You shut the fuck up.”