Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
“Jordan!”Logan shouted from across the narrow tunnel under the hockey arena. The ceiling was too low for someone of my stature to stand upright, and the floor was slick from the constant traffic of ice skates, though the only people here at the moment were Jordan, me, and… Logan.
He threw his arms up and waved enthusiastically like a little child. The guys on the team had taken a liking to my girl, especially Logan, who felt a connection to her based on their shared trauma.
“Hi, Logan.” Jordan smiled, and I suddenly wanted to kill the fucker as my sympathy for his abusive past vanished into thin air. I’d do anything for her to direct those smiles at me. Instead, all I received was the brunt of her shame.
Logan rushed forward. Pressing a hand against my chest, he attempted to move me out of the way to hug Jordan. Except he couldn’t budge me.
“Nice try.” I grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt and yanked him back. Was he testing my patience because he saw me being protective of Jordan?
“What’s wrong?” Logan feigned ignorance. “I was just trying to hug our girl.”
My girl, I wanted to yell. I badly wanted to tell the world that she was MINE, but Jordan would die of embarrassment, which further pissed me off. I had no choice but to wait to go public after I won her conservatorship and she couldn’t escape me or after I got her pregnant—her shame be damned.
My jaw was clenched while I dragged Logan away. The tunnel ran lengthwise with a set of double doors behind us and the ice rink in front. Jordan’s security guards stood by the doors. They straightened when I cast Logan aside, but I held up a palm, warding them off.
“There is nothing about her that’s ours,” I told him as the other players walked through the double doors and joined us. Today was the first game of the week. For home games, we warmed up on the ice a few hours beforehand. Since the entire team was here, it was the perfect time to lay down the law. “She isn’t here to entertain any of you clowns,” I declared loud and clear. “Don’t bother her again, and don’t make me repeat it.”
It was the first time I had introduced a girl to the group—albeit as a family member—but boundaries had to be drawn. The boys got far too chummy with her last night. Though I made it clear that Jordan was off-limits, I was aware of the effect she had on men.
No matter the fealty they pledged to me or the “bro code,” other men would always pose a threat. For fuck’s sake, I stole her from my own father without batting an eye. I’d be an idiot to assume others weren’t equally hypnotized by her. Thoughts of her had plagued me for years because Jordan wasn’t just a knockout. She was the sun people gravitated toward as if they had no choice in the matter.
The face that could ruin a thousand relationships.
Loyalty had no meaning between brothers, fathers, or friends when one night in her arms could change the course of a man’s life. No one was immune to her charms.
My teammates exchanged pleasantries with her over my shoulder, only maintaining a respectful distance because I stood guard between them.
Jordan glanced between me and the rest of the team. She fidgeted in another one of my jerseys that she had paired with blue jeans and the shearling coat I ordered for her yesterday. I loved her in casual clothes instead of the ridiculous outfits Henry used to insist on. I especially loved her in my jersey. No one had looked more beautiful wearing my name. She took my breath away and made me wonder how I’d survived all these years without her.
I knew the answer—I hadn’t.
I suffered without her, though having her with me at long last made it all worth it. My lips tipped up when she used her hair to cover the angry, red streaks on her neck. Possessiveness fizzled in my veins. I should’ve kept her in bed longer and marked her more. A perverse side of me wanted the guys to witness the hickeys adorning her like a badge of honor.
Jordan waved goodbye to them as they skated onto the ice. I glowered when a few of them glanced back for one last look at her. My mood further soured when I caught her staring back.
“What did I say about looking at other men?” I bit out.
She rubbed her temples. “Please stop acting so insane, Xander. I was just being friendly.”
“Well, don’t.”
She huffed. “I was only being friendly because they’re your teammates.”
“I don’t care, Jordan. Don’t be friendly with other men.”
Jordan mumbled how everyone shouldn’t roll over for me. She was still taken aback by my teammates’ positive reception to semi-abducting my stepmother.
I was being too hard on her; I knew that. This was her first time at one of my games. I had waited eons for her to be at one of my games. The last thing I should have done was snap at her, but I couldn’t help it. I had felt erratic since catching her with birth control pills.
Jamie, one of the security guards, owned up to the mistake. I’d warned the guards that my girlfriend was mentally unstable and sometimes acted out in ways she couldn’t control. I almost felt guilty about it when I saw how they hovered, watching over her as if she were a ticking bomb about to explode. Thank God Jordan hadn’t seemed to have noticed, but to secretly make it up to her, I had told the guards to cater to her every whim as long as she didn’t try to run away or hurt herself.
My stance changed after catching her with birth control pills. Despite wanting a baby more than anything, she went on them just so she wouldn’t have one with me. “Let me know immediately if she looks for birth control pills again,” I had told Jamie this morning. “They interact negatively with her current medication, but she always forgets they’re off-limits.”
I also added her to my phone plan and turned on her Google location, and I now have access to her iCloud. Jordan could no longer even take a breath without me knowing about it.
Once I knew the boys were no longer looking our way, I grabbed her for a kiss before she could protest. She was immobile even as the kiss turned forceful, demanding she reciprocate. Jordan was petrified about being found out, especially by my team. The fight in her finally dissipated, and a dangerous energy pulsed between us. My mouth watered at the sweet scent she dabbed on her pulse points—another gift I had ordered for her. Unthinking, I grabbed a chunk of her hair and tilted her head to one side to lick her pulse like a madman.
Perhaps she was right; I was going insane. What other explanation could justify these volatile moments of possessiveness? I was demonstrating zero control over my actions, and that had never been me.
I begrudgingly broke the kiss. The security guards led her away, and I watched until they disappeared behind the double doors. It’d be hours before I saw her again, a fact that made my skin crawl.
The game was in the evening, but I had to report to the stadium several hours early. Jasper decided to spend the afternoon with Mom and would arrive once the doors opened. When Jordan suggested her time would be better spent with Jasper than waiting on me, I nearly hit the roof. I still couldn’t fathom separating from her, however microscopic it seemed. She must’ve sensed the madness brewing within me because she quickly changed course and “volunteered” to keep me company by sitting in the stands during my drills.
Not wanting to make this an entirely miserable experience for her, I told the guards to take her shopping at any store within a five-mile radius. My anxiety would spike if she wasn’t within reach. Even the seats I secured were right across from my bench so I could keep an eye on her throughout the game.
I made my way onto the ice, the chill seeping into my skates. The adrenaline of game day—and having Jordan there—should have been coursing through me, but instead, I was riddled with tension.
Henry had been getting more aggressive with his efforts. Realizing that his threatening messages were futile, he moved on to the next course of action—the media. This morning, he leaked news of our family drama to the press, constructing a premise that portrayed him as the victim.
NHL’s newest team, the Halifax Trojans, has been dragged into the spotlight due to a scandal surrounding their star center, Xander Maxwell.
Eyewitnesses claim that Maxwell physically assaulted his father, an older gentleman with heart issues, at their home in New York City. He then proceeded to manipulate his father’s troubled wife into leaving the country. Mrs. Maxwell’s mental state and ability to make sound decisions had been brought into question.
Maxwell had been estranged from his family due to an ongoing feud over inheritance. A close family friend speculated that the star athlete might be preying on his stepmother’s vulnerability to regain the upper hand.
The article was published a few hours ago. It was filled with anonymous tips and speculations by mysterious “family friends.” Did my father really think a cheap, baseless article would scare me into returning Jordan to him?
The coward wouldn’t come to Canada to face me like a man and was sending the tabloids to do his dirty work.
Technically, it was one column in some nondescript third-tier gossip magazine. My father had picked the magazine intentionally and then forwarded me the link. It was a warning shot to demonstrate the repercussions if I kept ignoring his demands.
I had to get ahead of the matter before the story gained traction. An online article was easy to gloss over, but if more credible magazines picked up the story, my agent, Coach, and the owner of this team would get wind of it.
As my PR representative, Jordan was the first person I should inform. She was adept at devising foolproof stories and spinning the narrative in her clients’ favor.
However, I wanted to shield her from reality for a little while longer.
At least I could relish the fact that my game wasn’t absolute shit today.
The fury over my father’s audacity fueled me, and I lay the aggression out on the ice. It was the same reason I had picked up hockey in the first place. I could pummel someone against the rink glass and be applauded for it.
The drills were a joke. I charged the biscuit at the net so many times that Coach was forced to mumble the Trojan Warrior was back for blood. There were several pats on the back by the time warm-up ended, but my traitorous eyes searched for only one woman’s approval. Disappointment set in when I only saw an empty stadium instead of her—though I was the one to send her away—and I vowed to make this a game she’d never forget.