Chapter 11 #3
Margot sat on the couch, eating from a tub of ice cream and scrolling on her phone.
She peeked up. “Oh, you’re home.” Her gaze darted behind me and then returned.
“Shit, I lost track of time and need to get ready.” She jumped from the couch, raced to the freezer, and set the ice cream container inside it. “Don’t worry, I’ll be ready by six.”
I should have known. “Maybe I should have texted you a reminder?” I placed my keys on the kitchen island’s granite countertop. I’d already showered at the rink, so I only needed to spray on cologne and change.
“Yeah, that might have helped.” She planted a quick kiss on my cheek and jogged toward the hallway leading to her bedroom.
I stood there, gaping. Why the cheek kisses? She had been doing that a lot lately.
I drove us up the tree-lined drive to the Arizona Biltmore Hotel, a testament to Frank Lloyd Wright's architecture with its rough, grayish block walls and Art Deco accents. As I pulled under the portico with an angular metal roof, I stopped the SUV at the valet. “Okay, we’re here.” And we were only five minutes late.
Margot beamed at me, her black dress exposing the tops of her breasts and her hair pulled into a messy bun with a few tendrils of hair falling around her face. “This will be so fun. Like old times, right?” She opened her door and stepped out of the vehicle.
The valet’s eyes widened. “Mr. Volkov? Welcome to the Biltmore.” He handed me a ticket. “I’m looking forward to seeing the Coyotes in the playoffs again this year.”
“Yeah? Me too.” I buttoned my tuxedo jacket and joined Margot at the wide walkway leading to the hotel entrance. Flowering bushes lined each side with square landscape lighting.
She hooked her arm in mine and strutted beside me. “I can’t wait to meet your teammates, especially Mason Hopkins and Jett Jarvis.”
Oh boy. The teasing would be relentless tomorrow. “Yes, I’m sure they’ll be equally excited to meet you.”
A doorman opened the glass doors for us, and we strolled inside an enormous lobby done up in mid-century modern furniture in muted colors and square light fixtures that blended into the wooden planking in the ceiling.
A banner at the other end of the room read, Phoenix Children’s Hospital Presents Art of the Desert, with an arrow.
“Look, it’s right back there.” She pointed at a set of open doors past the lobby.
“Yeah, I see.” Julian would be there. My pulse took flight. I hadn’t seen him since our brief encounter in the conference room. He’d been right in his text this afternoon. I missed him.
As we approached the room, Margot tightened her hold on my arm. “It looks amazing.”
I stepped inside the room, done up in gold and orange hues with colored lights rushing up the walls from the floor and bouquets everywhere. Art hung along one wall with small lights beaming down on them from above the frames.
A server stopped at us with a tray of flutes. “Champagne?” He held one out to Margot.
“Oh, yes.” She took it from him and then gave me a wide grin.
“For you, sir?” The man held another one.
Shit, should I drink tonight? But we had a game tomorrow. Fuck it, it was still preseason. “Why not?” I grabbed the drink from him. “Thank you.” I performed a quick scan of the room, but Julian wasn’t around. Did Jessica still have him working?
Margot faced me, her hand threading into mine. “Why don’t we find the table where your teammates are sitting?”
Julian appeared behind her, glaring at me with his jaw set, his tux fitting his slender frame perfectly and his curls tamed straight and slicked back.
I knew he’d look amazing in a tux. “Yeah, sure.” I slipped my hand from hers and spied Mason and Jett sitting at a round table with Lucas and his fiancé, Ezra. “There’s Mason and Jett. Go introduce yourself. They know who you are.”
“They do? You’ve told them about me?” Her eyes lit.
“Yeah, well, it came up.” With a stumbling chuckle, I pushed on her lower back. “I need to speak with someone really quickly.” Would she go for it?
“Okay.” With a flashy grin, she sauntered toward the table.
I strode to Julian. “Hi.”
Lifting his chin and pulling on his cuffs, he said. “Hi. You’re late and you looked like a couple when you walked in. I’m sure the press will be buzzing with it.”
With a huff, I said, “Then I’ll set them straight.” I turned, reading the room again, and spotted members of the press. By now, I could identify them in any crowd. I studied him. “Julian, you have nothing to worry about.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m fine.” He offered a thin-lipped grin. “Well? Introduce me.” He waved his hand toward the table Margot was sitting at.
“Okay.” This would be an interesting night. He was already in a mood. I navigated through waiters in white suits and black pants with hors d’oeuvres on platters, and other guests, with Julian close behind. When we reached the table, I said, “Margot, this is Julian Mercer.”
“Oh, so nice to meet you.” She rose and shook his hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“From who? Volkov?” Mason lifted a brow.
She let out a soft giggle. “Of course.”
“Well, I hope it was all good.” Julian pulled the chair out next to Margot’s. “Mind if I take this seat?”
Her gaze swung from him to me and back again, and she slid her flute closer to her. “No, of course not.”
I took the chair next to Julian. And…things were awkward. How could I believe they wouldn’t be? I sipped my champagne.
Angling toward Margot and resting his forearm across the back of his chair, Julian said, “So, Margot. You dated Alex for a few years?”
She dipped her gaze to her champagne. “Yes, when I lived in Boston and he played for the Bruins. That’s where I’m from, Boston.”
“Oh, I thought I caught a Boston accent.” Mason snickered and drank a beer.
“But it’s not as strong as yours.” Jett rubbed Mason’s shoulders and leaned in. “He’s from New England, if you can’t tell. Connecticut.”
“What part of Boston?” Eyeing her, Mason tapped his glass with his fingers.
“Beacon Hill.” She gave him a charming grin and wiggled in her seat.
“Oh, that’s an expensive neighborhood.” Mason leaned across her to push Julian’s shoulder. “You should know that neighborhood after attending Harvard.”
“I do, uh, know it.” Julian’s gaze flicked to me. “I know it well, actually. I had friends there.”
Were we both in Boston during that period? Damn, we might have been for a few years. “Yes, well, Margot spent her childhood there. When we dated, she lived in Somerville.”
“Oh, she never lived with you in Boston?” Ticking his brows, Julian touched his index finger to his cheek.
“No, she had roommates and…” My gaze found hers. “It didn’t work out that way.” Truth was, I was a young NHL player, and having a live-in girlfriend felt too constricting. I never cheated on her, but there’d been a limit to how committed I wanted to be.
“I see.” Julian snagged a waiter and grabbed a flute of champagne. “How is living with him now, Margot?”
“Oh, it’s great.” She glanced at me. “We’ve had a pleasant time reconnecting.”
Here we go. I watched Mason, smirking with his elbow propped on the table and his cheek resting in his hand. He was taking all this in so that he could tease me with it later.