Chapter 11 Addison
ELEVEN
ADDISON
Choosing to wear my black Versace (which I scored at a major discount from an overstock site) backless jumpsuit was a bad idea.
The deep V neckline plunges to my sternum, showing off plenty of ample cleavage, and the only thing holding it onto my body is the halter that hooks behind my neck.
My back is left completely open and the jumpsuit ends at my upper thighs, leaving my long, tanned legs—which I thankfully shaved after my workout earlier tonight—bare all the way to my spaghetti strap heels.
I’d wanted to give Ruthless plenty of skin to drool over, but I’m starting to think I’m the only one affected here.
Stoic as ever, Roman guides me with a firm touch on my exposed lower back, and even as I brush against dozens of others in this packed club, every nerve in my body has pooled beneath his hand so that he’s the only thing I feel.
The ride over was silent and awkward, but I wasn’t about to try and fill the silence with idle chitchat.
It wasn’t my idea to drag my happy ass out here, so why he’s got a mean brood on right now is beyond me.
I came out because my job is my number one priority, and apparently, it’s important to my boss that I make the time to dance and drink.
I’m certainly not here because I found it impossible to resist his sexy, bossy (yeah, I know, the irony there is classic) Ruthless persona.
And it damn sure isn’t because I like the idea of dancing all up on other men—since he’ll inevitably stick to his guns about staying away from me—to try and make Roman come down with a severe case of the I-gotta-have-hers.
As we approach a semicircular booth in the back corner, I recognize Austin and Liam sitting with three beautiful women—two blondes and one brunette—dressed to kill in various minis.
Everyone at the table is pretty beautiful, actually.
Austin has that All-American boy thing down with his sandy blond hair, light green eyes, and dimples as deep as his southern charm.
Liam is a ginger whose amber eyes have a constant mischievous glint about them.
“Oh, good, you brought her back,” Austin says with a wink in my direction.
Roman cuts him a threatening look that has his friend chuckling but not saying anything more. “Anyone need a refill? I’m heading to the bar.”
Liam shakes his head. “Nah, we just got a new round, but thanks, big guy.”
Roman nods then asks me, “What do you want?”
Lord Jesus, is that ever a loaded question. Let’s see, on my short list, I want Roman fucking me in the shower, Roman fucking me from behind, Roman fucking me—
“Addison.”
“What?” If there’s attitude in my tone, it’s because he barked at me first.
“I asked you what you want to drink.”
“And I answered you.” I love being contrary.
Roman arches a brow and looks at me like I’ve lost my mind somewhere between my apartment and the club. “No, you didn’t.”
Rolling my eyes like I’m indulging a child who wasn’t paying attention, I repeat (that is, say for the first time), “I’ll have a chocolate martini.” Smiling, I bat my lashes at him. “Please and thanks.”
The blonde at the end of the booth downs the rest of her drink and pops to her feet. “I’ll go with you, Ruthless,” she says excitedly. “I need to stretch my legs.”
I catch the other girls rolling their eyes at each other.
Apparently she isn’t the favorite of the group.
In fact, using my keen observation skills, I’d say she’s more of a hanger-on than part of the posse, and the fact that she’s draping herself on Roman’s arm like a cheap suit isn’t endearing her to me, either.
Roman watches me for a few seconds, but if he’s waiting to see whether I unsheathe my claws, he’ll be waiting a long damn time.
I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing I’d like to roundhouse my stiletto into Barbie’s tit.
Instead, I smile and say, “Oh, and can you ask for a cherry garnish? You’re the best,” then give an obnoxious finger wave before sliding into the booth and cozying up to Austin.
Roman walks away, and I do my best to hide my exhale of relief that I can drop the act. That was harder than I thought. Which is ridiculous since I shouldn’t care where Roman or Ruthless, or whatever else he calls himself, sticks his dick. If he wants to fuck Bunny, more power to him.
Austin stretches an arm along the back of the booth behind me and lobs his charming, dimpled smile my way. “Glad you made it, darlin’. You remember Liam, don’t you?”
“Of course,” I say to the man sitting across from me. “What woman could forget a sexy ginger like Liam?”
Liam grins and extends his forefinger from the neck of his beer bottle to point at me. “I knew I liked you.”
“Don’t get too excited, O’Donnell. She’s a lawyer; she lies for a living.
” Liam flips Austin the bird, which he ignores and continues with the introductions.
“And these are our friends, Callie”—the blonde next to Austin—“and Raquel”—the gorgeous brunette sitting on the other side of Callie with her arm threaded through Liam’s.
The girls offer me warm smiles and hellos, and I immediately like them both.
“And this,” he continues, gesturing to me, “is the infamous Addison Paige, attorney at law and personal weakness of Roman Reeves.”
My sleek ponytail whips me in the face when I snap my head to give him the Whatchu talkin’ ’bout, Willis look. “Personal pain in the ass, maybe, and believe me, I’m trying hard to earn that title. But weakness? Hardly.”
Austin arches a brow. “I’ve known the man half my life, darlin’. I’ve never seen him leave a club to retrieve a woman when he has so many clamoring for his attention already.”
“You mean like Bunny?” I ask wryly, glancing in the direction Roman and his groupie went.
The group laughs, and Raquel says, “That special little snowflake is Misty.”
Callie pauses in raising her glass to add, “Yeah, she’s been on him for hours now. Hoping to be his Friday Night Special.”
“Good for her,” I say. “He only came to get me because he thinks I’ll burn out from working too much and then I’ll be no good to him at the office. Maybe if he gets some action, he’ll loosen up and stop riding my case.”
Austin chuckles. “Unless said action is riding you, sweet cheeks, I doubt he’ll loosen up anytime soon. He’s into you. Hard. Pun mostly intended.”
A chorus of agreement goes around the group. All I can do is stare at them like they’ve sprouted extra heads. “What kind of crazy shit are you guys on and, more importantly, why aren’t you sharing?”
Everyone laughs, and I suspect I’m about to hear more of their argument, but both phones on the table in front of Liam and Austin light up with notifications. Each of them grabs theirs to check the message then lets out a stream of curses.
I can’t help myself. “Oh, no. Is there some kind of stripper emergency cutting your night short?”
Liam tosses his phone on the table in disgust. “That wouldn’t be cause for disappointment. The Blackhawks losing to the Penguins in the last period, however, definitely is.”
“You guys big hockey fans?”
“Huge, but Roman’s the biggest out of all of us,” Austin says. Then he quickly tacks on, “I mean he’s the biggest fan. No one’s bigger than me.” Leaning back, he palms his crotch and waggles his eyebrows at me playfully.
I laugh. “Keep it in your pants, cowboy. You’ll have to buy me dinner first.”
“Done.” He winks.
The man is incorrigible, and I adore him already. “I’ll have to tell my cousin his biggest fans are male strippers. He’ll get a kick out of that for sure.”
“Who’s your cousin?”
“Sam Larsen.”
Both men sit up straighter, their big-as-saucers eyes locking on me like I just told them Santa Claus is real. “No way! You’re related to the Reaper? He’s the best enforcer in the whole damn league.”
“That sounds about right.” It is right. I can probably recite his stats by rote.
Not because I studied them, but because I’ve heard my dad list them more times than I can count.
He’s the golden boy my father never had, and since Sam’s dad died when he was young, my dad fancied himself a stand-in for his sister’s fatherless kid.
He spent more time at Sam’s hockey practices than he ever spent with me.
But I don’t hold it against my cousin. He’s a great guy, and we’re really close.
“Ugh, sports talk,” Callie says. “Come on, Raquel, let’s hit the dance floor.”
“Hey, Raquel likes hockey,” Liam argues.
Callie rolls her eyes and snorts. “Liking the sexy way they race across the ice and the caveman displays of pounding the crap out of each other isn’t the same as getting an erection over career stats.”
Raquel laughs and pats Liam on the arm. “She speaks the truth. You guys have fun.”
Liam lets the girls out and his gaze lingers on Raquel’s ass as he slides back in. “You make a cute couple,” I tell him.
“Who, me and Raquel?” he asks in surprise. “Nah, we’re just good friends.”
“Oh, my mistake.” I offer him an apologetic smile, but we both know I didn’t make a mistake.
That boy has it bad for his friend, but if he wants to keep that info to himself, who am I to blow his cover?
Maybe if I get to know them better I can orchestrate something to help him out.
After all, I’m a natural when it comes to matchmaking, as proven by Exhibit A: Jane and Chance, who shall heretofore be known as “Jance.”
I’m just about to turn the conversation back to more neutral territory, aka my cousin the NHL player, when a waitress shows up and places two chocolate martinis with cherry garnishes in front of me then disappears back into the throng of people.