Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

ELENNA

"I give you credit for not punching Aidan in the cock," Wren said. "You must have been tempted."

"A little bit," I admitted. "But we sorted it out, and he knows to keep me in the loop from now on."

"In the loop," Sinclair echoed. "You are the loop. Sure Aidan and Fin were friends before you came along, but their relationship with each other and Orion is different because of you. They’re going to have to learn to communicate with each other and you. Otherwise…" She toyed with the handle of her coffee mug.

"I know," I said. "We’re going to implode. Or explode. Or whatever." I stirred the froth into my coffee. "Aidan likes to think he has everything under control and that everything will fall into place because he says so."

"Daddy Aidan," Wren remarked.

I hummed my agreement and sucked on the bowl of my spoon. "He’s used to telling everyone what to do. The team listens to him. Even when they pretend they aren’t. They’ve seen the changes he’s made is impacting their performance. He’s not the kind of guy who will ever let go."

"We noticed that about him," Sinclair said. "If you hadn’t fallen for him, he probably would have stalked you until you gave in."

I snorted, my lips pressed closed around my spoon. "That sounds accurate."

"Regrets?" Wren asked.

"At being with him? No." I hesitated.

"But?" Wren prompted.

"But if I wasn’t, no one would be trying to point the finger at Orion for Oscar’s death," I concluded. I picked up my coffee and held it in my hands.

Occasionally, I glanced around the almost empty coffee shop for indications anyone was listening. If they were, they gave no sign. Of course they wouldn’t. We kept our voices down low anyway.

"Unless he did it instead," Wren said. "It’s no secret his days were numbered either way. Oscar, I mean. If it wasn’t you or Orion, any number of people would have ended him. The Brantley twins, Mannix Cassani and his people, one of the Bell sisters, the list goes on."

"I wish they had. If one of them did it, it would have been their problem," I said. "It wouldn’t have been mine or any of my guys’."

I was starting to think I should have tried to stay away from Aidan. It was a pointless thought, because I hadn’t and he would have had me sooner or later. He would always have handed Oscar over to me to deal with.

That was Aidan’s idea of a grand, romantic gesture. Much more so than a picnic in the stands, and skating. If he could, he’d offer me the heads of my enemies on a silver platter, on a daily basis.

Hopefully I didn’t have so many that he could actually do that. To be honest, I didn’t want human heads as a gift, touching as that was.

"Do you think Aidan is in over his head?" Sinclair asked. "That was why he didn’t tell you what was going on?"

I thought about that for a while. "No," I said slowly. "I think it’s the opposite. He’s so cocky, he figured everything would work out. But he listened when I told him what I was feeling and next time…" I scrunched up my face. "I don’t want there to be a next time."

"I hate to say it, but there’s always a next time," Wren said regretfully. "There’s always someone wanting to stir up trouble. If everyone with the name Fiorelli died tomorrow, someone would take their place. Someone would want their power. It’s like that game where you whack those things and another one pops up."

"Teenage acne?" Sinclair joked.

Wren laughed. "More like whack a mole than whack a zit."

"You’re right," I said reluctantly. "About the Fiorellis, not the pimples. Thank you for the traumatic flashback though."

They both grinned.

"I wouldn’t be a teenager again for anything," Sinclair said. "Way too much angst."

"Way too much pressure to lose your virginity," Wren said.

"Pressure from yourself," Sinclair teased.

"Of course," Wren said lightly. "I was desperate to know what the big deal was. Turns out the first time was a pretty small deal." She made a face. "Just goes to show, just because a guy is a star football player, doesn’t mean he has a big cock or knows what to do with it."

"That’s why I went for someone who did know what to do," Sinclair said. "My father wasn’t impressed with me fucking his best friend, but it was worth it."

They both turned to look at me.

I shrugged. "There’s not much to talk about." I sipped my coffee.

"That makes me think there really is something to talk about," Wren said. "Come on, we shared."

"You realise that in no way obligates me to do the same," I said dryly. I was never a big fan of peer pressure.

Sinclair reached over and put a hand on mine. "Of course you’re not. If you don’t want to talk about it, we understand. Right, Wren?" She cut our friend a look.

"Right," Wren agreed. "But if you want to, we’re here to listen."

I glanced down at the table. "It’s really no big deal. Just one of my father’s business associates. We went out a couple of times, fucked and then that was it. We saw each other around here and there but never owed each other anything. Before you ask, I’m not naming names." It was almost a decade ago, barely a blip in my memory. Probably not even that in his.

Wren looked disappointed. "I was hoping it would be a prince or something."

I laughed. "I don’t even know any princes. And if I did, they wouldn’t be interested in me."

"They should be," Sinclair said. "You’re gorgeous. Your eyes are beautiful and your hair is so thick and luscious. And you have breasts." She glanced down at hers, slightly smaller than mine.

"You have breasts," I told her. "You could have been a model. Both of you."

"I’m too short," Wren said. She didn’t look especially bothered by the fact. Maybe because she had breasts bigger than both of us. And a perfectly shaped ass.

"They’re so heightist," Sinclair said.

"I don’t think that’s a word," I said.

"It is now," she said with a laugh. "I’m not wrong though. Height shouldn’t be a restriction to doing things, especially when you’re as gorgeous as Wren."

"I’m more pissed off about not being able to reach the upper cabinets in my kitchen," Wren said. "That’s why I always go for tall guys. So they can get stuff out for me."

Sinclair snapped her fingers. "I knew there was a use for guys. Other than to give us orgasms. Which, when you think about it, is pretty useful."

"Speaking of orgasms," Wren said. "I’m going out with Tiger on Thursday night. He is taking me to dinner. I hope it ends with lots and lots of orgasms. He seems like the kind of guy who can deliver."

He seemed to me like the kind of guy whose ego wouldn’t let him do otherwise, but if that worked in her favour, I was all for it. And if he hurt her, I wouldn’t hesitate to punch him in the cock. Or dip his stick into the toilet. His hockey stick, that was. Although, if he hurt her badly, dipping his other stick wasn’t off the table.

Sinclair leaned forward eagerly. "You’ll give us details, right? I am feeling very celibate right now. If I don’t get laid soon, my pussy is going to grow over."

"Tiger has plenty of friends," Wren pointed out.

"I know, I’m acquainted with all of them," Sinclair said. "I spend my waking hours trying to keep their reputations intact. A lot of my sleeping hours too. You wouldn’t believe how many spot fires I have to put out. One is still smoking when another one ignites. If it’s not jealous fans on social media making trouble, it’s the players living up to their own reputations. Don’t ask about the winger and the five puck bunnies." She rubbed her temples with her thumb and two of her fingers.

Her job must be exhausting at times, trying to save people from themselves. Or at least, covering their asses when they put them in the wrong place. Their reputations were in her hands.

"Now I want to ask about exactly that," Wren said.

"If it wasn’t for the NDA, I’d give you all the details. It’s as salacious as fuck." Judging by the expression on Sinclair’s face, she barely believed half of it herself.

"Well if you say it’s salacious, then it must be good," Wren said. "I guess you can’t name any names."

Sinclair mimed zipping her lips and dropping the key down the front of her bra. "Not if I want to keep my job. Unless it meant saving one of you from heartbreak. Sisters before… NDAs. Or something like that." It didn’t precisely roll off the tongue.

"Not Tiger then," Wren concluded. "If you hadn’t said winger, I would have guessed it was Coast Riggs. If anyone would get caught fucking around with five puck bunnies, it would be him."

"Probably." Sinclair shifted in her chair uncomfortably. "We shouldn’t be talking about this. Elenna might put it in one of her books."

"Anything that salacious deserves to go in a book," Wren said. She actually licked her lips eagerly. If a book wasn’t at least eighty percent sex, she didn’t want it. She even had a T-shirt that read Smut Slut. She wore it as proudly as the one with ’Tell me to STFUAGMTDLAGB’ on it.

As far as I knew, the acronym never worked. Maybe because most guys didn’t know that she was asking them to give her their dick. If they would, a lot of them would be only too happy to comply.

"I wouldn’t if there was a risk of Sinclair getting into trouble for it," I said. "Besides, I’d rather write about a puck bunny and five players. Or three."

"Now that’s a book I’d read," Wren said. "Although, anything you write, I’ll read and enjoy."

That was sweet of her, but she’d read everything I’d shown her, to date. Sinclair too. They were both supportive of my work, often making suggestions that improved each book before I released them. I was lucky to have them as my friends.

"I need to find more time to actually write," I said. "Assisting Fin and travelling with the team, not to mention worrying about Orion, takes up more time than I thought it would."

I’d barely had a chance to open my laptop, much less put down any words. I’d have to make some time. Hopefully, whenever Aidan’s plan to deal with Nicholas and Celine was done with, I could get back to normal. In the meantime, writing romance was the last thing on my mind. Especially dark romance. Why write it when you can live it?

"Yes you do," Wren said. "But your two most loyal readers will be here when you’re ready." She waved a finger between her and Sinclair.

"In the meantime, we’ll have to get our fix of smut by hearing about Wren’s date with Tiger," Sinclair said slyly.

"Or better yet, we can hook you up with someone," Wren said to her. "Then we can all be having lots and lots of orgasms." She nodded, satisfied with that conclusion.

Sinclair raised her coffee cup. "I can drink to that. Orgasms for everyone."

Wren and I raised our mugs too and laughed.

My guys and I needed to work on our communication, but our orgasm-giving skills weren’t lacking. They all seemed to have made it their life’s work to make sure I came as often as possible. I wanted the same for them. You know what they say, happy cock, happy…

I’d have to work on that one.