Chapter 10 #2
“Pretend you’re something you aren’t.” The moment we walked in, I could swear half the customers in the huge establishment ceased talking.
Or moving.
Or breathing.
Okay, so the man was a legend in Chicago. He’d brought the team out of years of being last in the league to number one. A true celebrity.
“Why don’t we take a picture?” I suggested as I plastered a fake smile on my face.
I pulled out my phone before he could object and I was forced against him when he wrapped his arm around my waist. Just by leaning in, I was forced to inhale his musky aftershave, something obscenely expensive that clashed with the tough guy black on black outfit he’d chosen to wear.
On purpose.
All he needed was a Harley, his powerful presence perfected.
“You smell insanely good,” he murmured in my hair.
I took the picture before I talked myself out of it. We appeared like a happy couple. Fantastic.
“Oh, Mr. Masters. You’re… Um…”
I glared at the hostess, sarcastic barbs ready to explode from my mouth.
He grinned. “We’d like a table for two, if that’s possible.”
“We’re kind of booked, but anything for you,” she gushed.
Now I was going to vomit a little in my mouth. “We have a reservation in the name of Weathers.” My interjection was all but ignored as she continued to fawn over him, even asking for a photograph.
When suddenly several people appeared like a swarm of bees, my patience reached a conclusion. As soon as I smacked my hand on the hostess stand, papers went flying and a nervous silence erupted between the spectators.
“Can we be seated? Please?”
The girl looked annoyed as well as shocked. “Oh, of course. What name was that again?”
“Weathers.” My tone was sharper than before as my blood pressure spiked. I wasn’t cut out for this. Not by a long shot.
“It’s okay, bunchkins. I don’t mind signing a few autographs,” Saint said, tongue in cheek.
I lifted my head, offering a death stare. “I’d like a drink.” No, I’d like a full bottle, but that wasn’t in my best interest.
Or his.
“You’re right. If you’ll excuse us. We haven’t seen each other in a few hours. Far too long.” He was cooing his words, purring like a cougar.
I rolled my eyes, thankful the hostess followed through with my request. As she led us through the dining room, there wasn’t a single person in the crowded room who didn’t have their eyes pinned on us.
Dozens of photographs were taken, no doubt videos as well. This was some kind of hell. Finally, we reached our table. I hadn’t asked for any privacy because I mistakenly had no clue we’d suddenly be thrust into a frenzy.
A chaotic frenzy with no signs of stopping.
Almost immediately after I was seated another barrage of questions was tossed from the mob surrounding me.
Saint was pushed back into the crowd far enough I could see him. The questions were fast and furious.
“Mr. Masters. Is there any truth to you being a werewolf?”
He laughed. Okay, good.
“Savage. Was the name selected for you on purpose?”
“You bet it was,” he gritted out. “Cause I’m a savage on the ice and in the bedroom, baby.”
Oh, my God. This was a social media nightmare.
“Can I have a picture taken with the hottest hockey player in the world?”
“Sure ya can, darlin’.”
The tone of Saint’s voice oozed sensuality. The girl was squealing.
“My mom is going to be so happy!” she threw out.
That was the moment I was forced to remind myself Saint was a celebrity and I needed to stay calm.
And breathe.
Yet as the crowd thickened, the thought of being suffocated floated in the back of my mind.
“Hey, Saint. You aren’t going to let the Devils capture our title. Are you?”
At last, a normal question.
“Ah, hell, no. I plan on crushing their skulls if I need to.”
Was this the way hockey players talked? I’d need to add to my checklist a conversation about how he should handle himself in public.
Another itchy feeling was already driving me crazy, but I resisted scratching in public. That wasn’t very ladylike.
“I bet you’re a tiger in bed.” Had the fifty-something woman just made that announcement in a loud voice?
Why, yes, she had.
Saint was positively gloating as he leaned in. “I guess you’d need firsthand experience to answer that question.”
Every woman in close proximity squealed like stuck pigs. This was getting so out of hand I couldn’t concentrate. The excessive heat crisscrossing my body had already built to the point my upper lip was sweating.
Oh, what a great look.
I couldn’t keep track of what was happening, already at the point of losing all sense of self control. The fact I was close to hyperventilating meant the heavy anxiety was about to take a toll.
While I was about to have a meltdown, Saint was loving every minute of the attention, posing for pictures and signing everything from napkins to women’s chests. It was ridiculous how popular he was.
The crush of heated bodies around me was suffocating. I tried to take several deep breaths, closing my eyes and counting slowly as I’d learned could usually calm me in these situations.
Only the exercise wasn’t helping in the least.
Puff. Puff. Puff.
Oh, this wasn’t good.
Maybe standing would help.
I was forced to shove my chair back as I was tossed against the edge of the table by some big burly guy crushing me with his full weight.
Now breathing was impossible.
“Hey, Saint,” the big burly guy yelled, the husky voice reverberating in my ears. “You gonna shift into a big, bad monster if you win tomorrow night’s game? You know Rocco will be waiting for it.”
Rocco. Who was Rocco?
“The Denver Devils won’t know what hit them and Rocco? Just a puff piece in a uniform,” Saint tossed back. I could see the headlines now. Whoever this Rocco guy was could cause more trouble, although a healthy rivalry might work in our favor.
While the thought was being formed into a visual Instagram post, the burly guy suddenly shoved his butt in my face.
Fans were desperately trying to grab Saint’s attention.
Breathe. Breathe.
That was it. Obviously, my client wasn’t doing anything to stop the melee. It was up to me to get control of the situation.
“Hey!” I yelled, elbowing the jerk ignoring I was sandwiched.
With little wiggle room gained, I shoved my way past him and two others, trying my best to get Saint’s attention.
“As for shifting, you never know, buddy,” Saint answered and I’ll be damned if he didn’t howl. Like a freaking wolf.
What in the hell was he doing?
Pushing and shoving wasn’t ladylike, neither was jamming my knee into another guy who had the nerve to try to toss me aside. But I did it anyway. I could see playing hardball was needed.
“What’s it like to be a werewolf?” The girl’s boobs were hanging out of her dress. No kidding. I could see the top of her areoles.
“Saint,” I called, forced to clear my throat since the lump formed earlier was huge.
“What’s it like?” he repeated and ran his hand through his hair. When he smiled, I shook my head.
Don’t do it. Do not do it!
“Being a werewolf is fabulous.”
And there it was. An admittance. He had no idea how much his joke would damage his reputation.
I elbowed another jerk, side kicked a second one, and snarled at a third until I finally shoved my way to within a few feet of my date. Correction. My client.
No, my nightmare.
Every iPhone and android phone was in operation, clicking endless shots.
My breathing was irregular, my heart rate spiking, yet Saint was having the time of his life.
“Saint. We need to go.” I croaked out the demand.
He ignored me, basking in the moment as if he hadn’t just added arsenic onto his cherry-topped cake.
Were the lights flickering?
Suddenly, everything appeared in slow motion. No, the lights weren’t flickering. They were dimming.
Oh, no, no. This couldn’t happen.
“Saint!” I called, although I doubted my voice could be heard above the squeals.
“Hey, sweetheart. Take a hike.”
Hold on. Was some jerk telling me to get lost?
Before I had a chance to respond, I felt another brutal bump and suddenly, I was flying into the air.
And into Saint’s arms.
Just as the lights dimmed again, although not before I noticed something entirely different in his eyes.
Not just politeness or a sense of caring.
Certainly not love.
Something much darker and more dangerous. His deep wolfish blue eyes appeared flecked with silver under the dim lighting and flashed with a menacing statement screaming possession.
Hands off what belongs to me.
Then I heard a voice, a delicious velvety tone washing over me like a soft blanket.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got you and I won’t let you go.”