Chapter 5

As soon as consciousness seeps in, I remember where I am. I peek an eye open and find the space next to me empty. A vague memory of Travis saying he had to go somewhere is there in the back of my mind.

He left me in his apartment. Either he’s extremely trusting or the guy’s an idiot. Probably both, considering he has no idea who I am and he left me here. Alone. The itch to get up and snoop is almost too much. I peer up at the ceiling. There are no obvious cameras that I can see. Although, remembering what I let this man do to my body last night, I probably should have been looking for those before I got naked.

Speaking of, I should also get up and get out of his place before he comes back. Save myself and him that awkward “morning after” conversation that I’m sure neither of us wants to have.

I throw the blankets aside, and the second my feet hit the floor, I feel it. The way he used my body. I’m sore, but in a good way. Like I’ve been thoroughly fucked. Because, let’s be honest, that’s exactly what Travis did to me last night. He came through on every single dirty promise he whispered into my ear.

I find my discarded clothes folded and placed on the single chair in the corner of his room. I really want a shower. I took one last night with Travis, but we did a lot more than just wash off in there. I put on my bra and then my shirt. Then I reach for my jeans and tug them up my thighs. My underwear is missing, not that I would have put them on again anyway. I bend down and search under the bed. They’re not there. I do find his jersey on the floor though. The same one I wore last night. So I pick it up and slide it over my head. When I look over, I see that my boots and socks are tucked neatly against the wall.

When did he have time to arrange all my stuff? I didn’t hear a single thing after he said he was going to work.

I grab my boots, figuring I can at the very least sneak up to the family penthouse and shower before going home. Make it to the open living room and freeze. There’s a woman in Travis’s kitchen.

Shit. Please tell me I didn’t fuck a married man. I’m not the other woman kind of girl.

She looks up. “Oh my.” Her hand comes to her chest. She’s an older woman, around my mom’s age. “I’m so sorry, darling. I didn’t know anyone was here.”

“Ah…” I open my mouth but I have no idea what to say. I don’t know who this person is.

“I’m Frances, Travis’s mother. I didn’t wake you, did I? He didn’t mention anyone was here,” she says, already walking around the counter and heading in my direction.

“Ah, I’m Liliana. And I was just leaving. I’m sorry.” I also have no idea what I’m apologizing for.

Maybe for screwing her son’s brains out and having her find me looking like a tramp about to make the walk of shame out of his apartment?

“Liliana, such a beautiful name,” she hums. “Come sit down. I was just about to make tea. You want one? Or how about some coffee?” She waves to the counter. “I drop off groceries for Travis. Because, well, I’m afraid if I don’t, he’ll just eat crap.” She shrugs. “You are insanely beautiful. But you already know that. How do you take your tea?” The woman hasn’t stopped talking or moving about the kitchen.

“I really do need to go. I’m sorry, Mrs. O’Neil,” I repeat.

“It’s just Frances, darling. And no need to apologize. I’m sure this is not how anyone expects to meet their boyfriend’s mother,” she says.

“Oh, Travis and I … we aren’t.” I shake my head. How do I explain I just fucked her son and have no intentions of seeing him again?

“I’m not that old, darling. I know how you kids work these days. No labels and all that nonsense. But trust me… if my son left you asleep in his bed, in his apartment, then he likes you a whole lot. Which means this little meeting between us would have happened eventually.”

I still don’t know what to do here. What to say. I don’t want to be rude, but I really do need to go home. “I’m sure it would have.” I smile at her. Travis’s mom seems nice. A lot nicer than what my father would be to her son if the roles were reversed.

My own mother is a total sweetheart. She’d be all over Travis, trying to make sure he’s comfortable and is properly fed. My father? Not so much. He’d likely call my uncles over to help him string the poor guy up by his ankles in the basement.

“Well, now that we’ve met, let’s not be strangers,” Frances says. “I’m sorry if I woke you, darling.”

“You didn’t. It was really great meeting you. But I have to dash out,” I tell her.

“Oh, that’s quite all right. Have a great day, Liliana.” Frances smiles at me, and I wave awkwardly at her as I walk to the door.

I don’t release the breath I was holding until I’m in the elevator descending to the garage, deciding it’s probably best to just get out of this building before I run into any more of Travis’s family. Or worse yet, the man himself.

I find one of my dad’s cars and jump in. The keys are always inside. No one is stupid enough to steal a car with one of our Valentino plates.

I get the side-eye from two soldiers as I sneak into the house. I’m not stupid. I know there’s no real sneaking involved. Within minutes, my father will know I’m only just getting home. But if I can manage to make it to my room without him seeing me, I know I’ll have at least a few hours of peace before he comes knocking at my door. More than likely after my mother has calmed him down a bit.

“Stop right there! Where the fuck are you crawling in from?” The voice, although rough and deep, doesn’t belong to my father. I glance over one shoulder and my glare lands on my brother. My little brother, mind you, who has taken on the role of the older sibling for some unknown reason.

“I was out,” I tell him and roll my eyes.

“Obviously,” Alessandro says. “Where were you?”

“Nowhere you need to know about.” I smirk at him.

“Wait… What the hell are you wearing?” He’s staring at me with wide eyes. “Is that…? Holy shit, that’s an O’Neil jersey,” he gasps, and I watch my brother’s jaw drop.

Alessandro is a major hockey fan. Most of my family is, while I’ve never seen the appeal. Until now. “Huh, what do you know? It is.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“I went to the game with Harper last night.” I fold my arms over my chest.

“You didn’t get that jersey from no pro shop, Lil. Who gave it to you?” Alessandro steps closer. His hand reaches out and he spins me around. “Holy fucking shit,” he hisses as soon as his gaze lands on my back.

“What?” I peek over one shoulder, trying to see what he sees.

“It’s signed. Travis fucking O’Neil signed this jersey.”

“Okay…” I draw out as I step aside and spin around. “What is wrong with you?”

“You’re wearing a signed O’Neil jersey, Lil. Do you have any idea how rare that is? I’ll give you a hundred cold for it.” Alessandro nods, already reaching for his phone and pulling up his banking app.

“What? No! You’re out of your mind. It’s just a hockey jersey. It’s not a big deal.” I shake my head at him.

“Two hundred.”

Two hundred thousand dollars for a signed jersey? He has to be shitting me.

“No. But next time I see Travis, I’ll be sure to ask him to sign a piece of scrap paper for you.” I laugh and then immediately clamp my mouth shut, realizing my mistake.

“Next time you see Travis? How the fuck do you know Travis O’Neil?” Alessandro narrows his glare at me.

“Yeah, you really don’t want to know the answer to that question, little brother.” I grin.

Alessandro groans. Like he’s in physical pain. “Do not make me have to kill my favorite hockey player, Lil. Damn it.”

I don’t respond, simply quirking a brow instead.

“No. No. No! You are not…” He shakes his head.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I got shit to do. Shit that doesn’t include standing around here watching you try to come to terms with the fact that I may or may not have screwed your favorite hockey player.” I pivot on my heel and continue down the hall, as my little brother tosses profanities at my back.