Chapter Eight
Royce
Emelia's dead to the world when her phone starts chirping early the next morning. I nudge her, trying to wake her up, but she grunts what sounds like threats to do bodily harm if I don't let her sleep for at least five minutes, and promptly steals my pillow.
I chuckle and reach over her for the phone.
"Emelia's phone," I rasp, not bothering to check it.
Big mistake.
Mt. Fucking Everest of mistakes.
"Who are you and why the fuck are you answering my daughter's phone at seven in the morning?" her dad growls in my ear.
Fuck. My. Life.
"Ah, good morning, Mr. Jónsson."
As soon as I say his name, Emelia sits bolt upright, smacking me in the face with my pillow in the process.
"Give me that!" she squeaks, lunging for the phone.
I turn my back on her, refusing to give it up that easily. He's going to find out about me sooner or later. It'd be ideal if it weren't while I was naked in his daughter's bed with her claw marks all over me, but fuck it. Too late.
"My name is Royce Elliot, sir," I say into the phone. "I'm crazy about your daughter."
"You're crazy about my daughter."
"Yes, sir, I am."
"No, you're just plain crazy," Emelia hisses, lunging over my back for the phone.
I hook an arm around her waist, flipping her over beneath me.
She squeaks again, staring up at me with wide eyes. "We're going to talk about how hot that was later," she whisper-hisses at me. "Give me the phone."
"Hush, baby. I'm talking to your dad right now."
"I know!" she cries. "Why do you think I want the phone?"
"He's going to find out that I'm in love with you sooner or later, babe."
"You…I…" Emelia splutters. "What?"
Her dad definitely hears her shriek. The goddamn Pope at the Vatican probably hears her shriek.
"Jesus Christ," her dad mutters, and then he laughs, a booming crack of sound that rattles down the line like thunder. "I'm guessing you failed to mention that to her before now?"
"Might have," I mutter, scratching the side of my face.
"She feel the same about you?"
"She does. She's just being stubborn about admitting it to herself."
"Sounds about right," her dad chuckles. "Her mom was the same way. Want my advice?"
"Ah…sure?"
"Don't let her push you away. She'll try. She's just like her mom in that way. She thinks she needs to be superwoman and prove to the world she can tackle everything on her own. Show her that she can still be a badass and let you take care of her," he murmurs. "Eventually, she'll thank you for it."
"I'll take that under consideration, sir. Thanks," I say softly, genuinely surprised he isn't threatening to murder me right now. I know how he feels about his girls. Frankly, the whole world knows how Kris Jónsson feels about his girls.
"If you're in her bed, it's because she cares," he grunts. "I won't say I'm thrilled about it, but I've heard a lot about you. You're better than a helluva lot of other choices she could have made. At least you know how to stop a goddamn puck."
"Jesus," I chuckle, my eyes locked on her face. "I'm going to give her the phone now. She's threatening to murder me with her eyes. But, ah, I'm sure we'll be talking soon."
"We better talk soon," he growls. "I expect a ring on her finger before you plant a kid in her, Elliot."
"That's the plan, sir."
"Good to know. Give her the phone."
I grin, holding the phone out to her. "Your dad wants to talk to you, baby."
"I'm not here," she mumbles, eyeing it like it might bite her. "Tell him that my soul has left my body."
"No can do." I drop down over her, planting a hard kiss on her mouth. "I need to get going. I've got practice, and then I seem to remember something about a contract I need to sign."
"Oh, the one for your soul," she says sweetly. "Yes. It's with your assistant."
I kiss her again and then roll from the bed, leaving her to talk to her dad.
I want to linger and eavesdrop, but I have a feeling she needs a little time to process both my confession and the fact that her dad knows about us.
If I'm all up in her space right now, she may very well bolt.
The only place I want her running is into my arms.
I can be a patient motherfucker. After a lifetime spent guarding a goddamn goal, you bet your ass I can be patient when it counts. This time, it counts more than ever.
By the time I stroll out of the bathroom, Emelia's off the phone, sitting up in bed. Her gaze roves over me, her cheeks pink.
"Morning, pretty baby," I murmur. "How'd your call go?"
"Oh, you know," she says with a shrug. "Same ole, same ole."
"Yeah?" I grin, sauntering toward her. "Is that so?"
"Yep." She tilts her head back, looking up at me. "He likes you."
"You think so?"
"Yes," she grumbles, pouting. It's fucking cute. "He didn't even threaten you. You know what he did when I went to prom?"
"What's that?"
"Had all of my uncles come over to meet my date at the door. Do you know how intimidating a bunch of overprotective former professional hockey players are to a high school boy?" she complains. "He almost wrecked the car on the way because he was shaking so bad!"
I chuckle, dropping a kiss on her lips. "I bet he kept his fucking hands to himself, though, didn't he?"
"Maybe." She smirks at me. "I'll never tell."
I laugh, kissing her again. "I gotta go, babe. Will you be in your office today?"
"I'll be there this afternoon. I'm going to murder Santiago Devlin this morning." She beams up at me. "And then I'll probably terrorize a few of his teammates for good measure."
"That's my girl," I whisper, kissing the fuck out of her. By the time I let her up, she's boneless and whimpering beneath me, and I want to say to hell with practice and crawl right back into bed with her.
Instead, I pry myself away, watching the way she watches me. "I'll stop by this afternoon."
"Okay." Her teeth sink into her bottom lip. "Hey, Royce?"
"Yeah?"
"Did you mean it or were you just messing with my dad?"
I pause at the door, turning to look at her. I wait until her gaze tangles with mine to speak. "I meant it, Emelia. Every fucking word," I growl, my heart in my throat.
"Okay," she whispers.
I don't push her to say it back, not yet. I know she will, though. It's written all over her face. She just needs a little while to process it first. That's fine with me. As far as I'm concerned, we've got a lifetime.