Chapter 55
Freddie
I lock the office door. Hopefully no one saw me come up here. My back falls against the wall, and I’m breathing hard. I can’t believe I did that.
I can’t believe I just did that.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Someone’s calling me, but I ignore it. I muster the courage to peek down at the ice through my office window. The film is still rolling. Most people are still in their seats.
My family is going to murder me. What they still don’t understand is that this toxic greed will continue tearing through our family like King Paimon in Hereditary, until someone is willing to pay the price.
I slump down to the floor against my desk, tugging at my hair, dreading where I go from here. They all know what I’ve done by now.
I should probably leave LA.
The screen’s glow disappears from the window, briefly plunging my office into darkness before someone turns on the lights downstairs. I don’t dare move, determined to hide up here until everyone’s gone.
My phone is still vibrating. I force myself to look at it.
It’s my mother.
I ignore it.
Other notifications follow. The ping of an email, several texts. Instead of dealing with it, I turn off my phone. I don’t know when I’ll be ready to face them or what my plan is. I guess I’ll just rot here until I arbitrarily decide that it’s safe to leave.
Suddenly, I hear footsteps in the hall and freeze. They sound light—not like the hard click of my father’s dress shoes that I’m all too familiar with. They stop outside my door. I swear I hear a hand on the handle.
Two knocks, and my heart is in my throat.
“Freddie?”
It’s Ines. A sigh of relief leaves me, though I still don’t move.
“I saw you go in, Freddie. I’m just making sure you’re alright.”
Goddammit. I’m not in the mood to see or talk to anyone, but the thought of making her worry makes me feel even shittier, so I force myself to go to the door.
Surely, she knows what I’ve done now, too.
I can hardly stomach the notion of looking her in the eye, but I force myself to crack the door anyway.
She looks worried.
“Thanks for checking on me, Ines, but I don’t want to see anyone right now,” I say. Her expression hardens, and my gaze drops to the floor. Judas Iscariot wasn’t this ashamed of himself.
“You were brave, Freddie.”
I lift my eyes. Her brow set in a worried line—somehow concerned and determined at once.
“I love the Monarchs,” she says, and I realize her cheeks are damp. “I don’t want to see them destroyed like this.”
There are few things more painful than someone looking at you like you’re a hero, when you know you’re Billy Loomis.
She should be furious with me. Still, my body moves of its own accord to hug her.
When her arms wrap around me, I shatter.
Tears spill down my cheeks and I sniffle—looking either way down the hall. I break the embrace.
“Don’t tell anyone I’m up here,” I huff, swatting the tears away.
“I won’t,” she replies with a sympathetic look. “Take care of yourself, Freddie.” I nod and close the door, locking it again. Then, I collapse into the worn and patchy office chair and hang my head in my hands.
Eventually, the noise downstairs dissipates.
At one point, I hear voices in the hall, but they sound like rink staff and they don’t come knocking.
The press and players are probably too busy demanding answers from my father and Eros to come looking for me at the moment, either.
I’ll just wait here with the lights off a little longer until the bloodbath downstairs settles.
Then, my heart stops—there’s another knock on the door. It’s measured, but firm.
I don’t think it’s Ines.
Pulse thundering, I get down on all fours and try to see the person’s shoes through the crack in the door, to see if it might be my father, but I can’t make them out. It doesn’t really matter who it is, because I’m not going to answer. They probably don’t even know for certain that I’m—
The knock sounds again. “Freddie. It’s Mattias.”
My heart stops. I don’t know what to do. Why is he here? I get up from the floor, but I really don’t know if I can face him right now. When did he get here?
“Ines told me you’re in there.”
That fucking traitor. It takes everything in me to open the door, but I’m not Renfield anymore. I unlock it.
Mattias is standing on the other side, and my breath catches the second I take him in.
He’s wearing a forest green sweater with brown slacks and cognac penny loafers, looking more dressed up than usual, but his hair looks like he’s been running his hand through it and his eyes are bloodshot and bruised, like he hasn’t slept.
“I didn’t think you came.” I grip the door frame with one hand and the door handle with the other. I don’t trust myself not to touch him.
“I didn’t at first. I’ve been avoiding opening the drive you gave me because I wanted to be done with it.
I had fully planned on staying home tonight, and I did, but when some of the guys let me know what happened, I had to verify everything for myself.
Most people were gone by the time I got here. ”
I don’t know what to say. For a moment, I just stare at him.
“Did you finish it?”
“I saw enough,” he replies. I’m not exactly sure what that means.
It registers to me that we’re just standing here in the hallway, and I look either way to make sure nobody is coming.
He must be thinking the same thing, because he says, “Can I come in?”
My pulse is in my throat again, but I nod and step to the side, locking the door behind him for good measure.
“How’s your head?” I say, desperate for something, anything at all to say to him.
He glances over his shoulder from where he’s looking through the office window. “Improving. I have to wait until symptoms are completely gone before I’m cleared to play again. They expect it will take several weeks. I hope to be back before the playoffs begin.”
That’s a month and a half or so from now.
“I’m sorry I came to the hospital. I know you didn’t want to see me—”
“It’s fine,” he cuts me off.
“I just needed you to see it. I knew I wanted out when you confronted me at the beach, but I hadn’t figured out how to fix things yet. I knew I’d only have one shot. I’m sorry that I didn’t have an explanation for you then.”
Something hardens in his expression. “When did you know you wanted out?”
Suddenly the lump in my throat is so big I don’t know if I can swallow it. “Before I knew he’d made the deal with Eros,” I finally manage. “I couldn’t knowingly do that to you. Or to the team.”
I struggle to keep my breath even.
He surprises me by coming closer—so close his feet are just a short width from mine. I force myself to look him in the eye.
“I resent what you did, but I think I can understand why you did it. You didn’t make it easy for yourself, either. Your family is going to be very upset with you,” he says quietly, his gaze trailing over my face. I breathe in the cold, piney scent of him.
“They’ll get over it,” I whisper.
He steps forward then, surprising me by weaving a hand into my hair, gripping it at the roots.
“You’re a terrible decision, you know,” he says, his mouth hovering over mine. It sends a spark of heat straight to my core, and I feel myself clench. My heart is a caged bird, fluttering against my ribs.
“You should probably just stay away,” I breathe.
“I think it’s too late for that,” he replies, his accent thicker than usual.
Then he kisses me, and I ignite. His fingers fist against my scalp and I gasp, my lips parting against his. A moan escapes me, which only makes him pull me closer, his hips grinding against mine.
I can feel him, thick and hard against my thigh and I let out a helpless sound, my eyes rolling back as he kisses my throat. I’ve never been kissed like this.
Desperate. Demanding.
Savoring.
His large, calloused hands lift to the bow at the nape of my neck, undoing it slowly, his fingers brushing against my skin and sending chills down my spine.
I’m not wearing a bra, and when the halter falls down, revealing my chest, his mouth goes slack.
I watch as his pupils blow wide, eclipsing pale blue.
Then he pulls me to him, catching one breast in his mouth as he backs me against the wall.
When he sucks my tit against his tongue, it sends fire straight to my core.
The ache between my legs grows agonizing, all my nerves ablaze.
Breath ragged, I spare a glance over my shoulder, to make sure no one is downstairs, but the rink is empty and it’s dim in my office.
“Have you missed me?” he whispers, lifting his head to plant another open-mouthed kiss against the crook of my neck.
“I’ve thought about you every day,” I gasp.
Catching my mouth with his again, he sucks my bottom lip, and it’s obvious he couldn’t care less who sees us. If I wasn’t soaked before, I am now. I arch into him when his palm slides down my side to the curve of my hip bone, pulling me against him, pressing me into the wall.
I need more.
I reach for the button of his slacks, but he tucks my hand back at my side, his own hands moving to lift the hem of my dress and pull it over my head, discarding it to the floor.
I’m standing in nothing but my thin, cotton underwear, clenching hard at the way he’s looking at me, like I’m something to be devoured.
I die a little inside as he gets down on his knees, and I swear I’m wetter than I’ve ever been in my life.
The air smells like me, and I know he can smell it, too.
My pulse thuds between my legs as he reaches a hand around my hip, forcing me closer to his face.
Then he drags his tongue along my slit over the fabric, his lips sucking at my clit, and I’m nearly undone.
His finger slips beneath the hem, then dips inside me, and I gasp, burning to be filled.
“I missed the way you taste,” he murmurs against my cunt. He lavishes me, keeping my panties pulled aside with one hooked finger, dragging several long, consecutive licks over my core, the tip of his tongue dipping between my folds, and I think I might cry.
Or come. Probably both.
“Mattias,” I beg. I’ve never been a church-going woman, but his name is a prayer on my tongue. My palms are flat against the wall as he sucks my clit again, and I whimper, my body growing taut as a bowstring.
“Hmm?” he murmurs. The vibration, accompanied by his finger moving deeper inside me, sends my eyes rolling.
“I’m gonna come,” I pant.
He utters something in Swedish I don't understand as he presses one more slow, open-mouthed kiss to my cunt, his hot breath lingering on my clit. I’m nearly undone—but then he pulls away.
“Such a needy little thing,” he says lowly.
He stands and backs me up against my desk.
Before I can protest, he lifts me onto its edge, then rips his sweater over his head.
I stare up at him, breathless and wanting, completely vulnerable and exposed.
He wastes no time dragging my underwear down my legs and tossing them aside.
“I want to give you everything you need,” he says lowly, his hands trailing down my thighs towards my knees. I let my legs fall apart, my nipples achingly hard in the cold rink air, and I know he can see how wet I am from the dark way he’s looking at me.
I stare up at him, undone and desperate.
He grabs two handfuls of my ass, tilting my hips off the desk as he steps between my legs. When he unbuttons his slacks and reaches into his boxer briefs, finally pulling out his cock, a humiliating whimper leaves my lips.
It’s thick and perfectly shaped, hot when I take it in my hand. I notice a slight upward curve as my fingers close around it, drawing back his skin and swiping my thumb over his glistening tip. My hips buck towards him instinctively. I’m achingly, disgustingly empty.
“You don’t know what you do to me, h?xa,” he breathes, his chest rising and falling hard as he twitches in my grip. “Are you sure you want this?”
He drags his heavy eyes away from where he’s staring at my hand wrapped around him to look me dead in the eyes.
“I've already ruined my career,” I say hoarsely.
He drags two more fingers through my folds, pushing them apart and staring heavy-lidded at my center before he pushes his trousers and boxer briefs away. Then he’s positioning himself over me and dragging his head against me, catching my wetness. I lean back on my palms to stay upright.
“I don’t have a condom.” He pauses. “I didn’t plan for this. But I am clean, unlike that guy in the parking garage movie.”
“Just fuck me,” I tell him, a laugh escaping me. I just need him inside of me like I need air to live.
He pushes into me with a searing stretch and I groan loudly as my fingers find purchase in his lower back.
Mattias starts slow at first, one pump, then two, but I’m so fucking wet it doesn’t take long for me to adjust around him and then he’s in me to the hilt, steady and hard.
My fingers crawl upwards to dig into his shoulder blades, clutching him to stay upright.
His breath is unsteady in my ear, and he murmurs something in Swedish I can’t understand.
“Fuck,” he gasps as I clench around him. “I’m not going to last.”
“Me neither,” I breathe. Already, I can feel my muscles fluttering around him, stretched so euphorically tight. He fills me perfectly.
His thrusts speed up, and then he’s gripping me by the hips, fucking me against my desk, his skin against mine. I hear the wet sound of his cock pounding into me and my own erratic heartbeat in my ears.
Lightning explodes through me and I see stars. I come like a bowstring snapping as my orgasm rocks through me. After two more thrusts, he comes, too, spilling into me. His hot, wet spend fills me as his forehead falls to mine.
“You’re more incredible than I imagined,” he breathes.
“You imagined me?”
“You have no idea.”
His words send goosebumps racing over my arms. Slowly, he pulls out of me, and I feel his come slip down my thighs. My head fits perfectly against his shoulder.
“I’ll have your desk cleaned,” he murmurs against the side of my head. I feel the vibration of his words through his chest, and they have an oddly calming effect on me.
“This rink is ancient. Probably not the first time it’s been debauched,” I reply.
“Don’t tell me that.”
“Not by me,” I say quickly.
“That’s even worse,” he replies. I laugh, closing my eyes and sighing against his skin.
I have no idea how long he holds me.