Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Nolan

J ust when I think I'm rich, I see something like this and realize there's a whole other level of wealth.

My mouth drops as I step out of my Porsche and stare at the humongous yacht in the distance. This is wealth . This is crazy.

It's like a sideways skyscraper floating on the water.

I slip on my jacket and fix my tie while looking at my reflection in the car window. I look pretty damn good if I say so myself.

There are so many people lined up on the pier waiting to walk into the yacht. Everyone is dressed to impress. Designer suits, tuxedos, sparkling red dresses—beautiful women galore. This is the place to be tonight.

Most people are coupled up, which makes me think I should have probably brought a date. But who could I have brought ?

All of the women I've met since I moved to San Antonio are only interested in me because I'm a hockey player or because I'm loaded. They couldn't care less about my personality. Slip another guy into my pads and give him my bank account and these girls wouldn't even notice. They wouldn't even care. They'd be interested in him and I'd be invisible.

The guys call these kinds of girls puck fuckers. I call them a waste of time.

I slip into the line behind a good-looking couple in their forties. It's a beautiful night, cloudless and not too hot, which is a nice change from the sweltering San Antonio heat.

A pretty waitress in a short black dress walks along the pier and hands out champagne flutes. I take one with a thank you and sip it as the line moves.

The yacht looks even bigger from down here.

I guess I'm going to meet the owner—of the yacht and the team—Brantley VanMorgan. I mean, I've met him briefly and seen him around the building a couple of times, but I haven't had a one-on-one conversation with the man.

But I've done my research. He's incredible.

This man is into everything. He started a mining company with a shovel and sold it for 1.3 billion dollars. After that, he got into satellites and founded a company that launched them into space. That company sold for four billion. And since then, he's been a philanthropist, a semi-celebrity, and an angel investor in a ton of start-ups, some that hit the mega jackpot. This man attracts money like a magnet.

He is currently worth twenty-six billion dollars. I heard that he reached into his jacket and wrote a check for the Hyenas like he was paying for lunch. It was pocket change to him at only nine hundred million dollars.

"Nolan!" a familiar voice rings out. I turn around and see Austin walking over with his new girlfriend Norah. He's all cleaned up in a black suit, white shirt, and black tie. She's looking great in a sparkly red dress with her brown hair tied up into a fancy bun.

We say our hellos and then start talking about the phenomenal yacht.

"Have you guys ever been on a yacht like this before?" Norah asks as she looks up at it in awe.

"I've been on my uncle Lou's rowboat," Austin says as he stares up. "I think it could fit in one of the bathrooms."

"There are probably only about twelve yachts on the planet this big," I say as we take a few steps forward.

"It looks bigger than the Titanic," Norah says. She suddenly turns to Austin. "Oh! We're going to have to do the King of the World thing, you know that, right?"

Austin is grinning. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Norah hooks her arm around his and kisses him on the cheek. I'd hate them if they weren't so damn cute together.

We walk up the steps onto the yacht as more than a dozen staff members greet us with big smiles. One takes my empty champagne glass and offers me a fresh one.

"Holy cannoli," Norah says as we walk onto the main deck.

This is… I don't even have words for this.

There's a massive pool lit up in turquoise, three bars, a dance floor, and everything looks so damn luxurious, I can't even.

A band is playing on the stage and I do a double-take when I recognize the singer.

"That's Rotting Porch!" I say, staring at them in shock. They were huge in the ‘90s.

"Oh, yeah," Norah says, whipping out her phone to take a picture.

People start filling up the space and more players from the team gather around with their girls. We claim the bar in the back as our own. The view of the city lights in the distance is just spectacular .

I truly feel like the king of the world now. I've come so far from the little town in Minnesota I grew up in. If the boys from home could see me now they wouldn't believe their eyes.

Harris Sutton arrives with his new wife, Fiona, and then Sebastian Kemp shows up with Alina. I start to feel a bit more comfortable surrounded by my people.

"Has anyone seen Gemini-X?" Svensson immediately asks when he arrives. He keeps looking around for the pop singer.

"Do you know her?" Alina asks.

"He thinks he has a shot with her," Harris says with a laugh.

"I do have a shot with her," Svensson says, puffing his chest out. "You'll see."

He fixes his hair and then leaves to search the yacht for his dream girl who will most likely immediately reject him.

"Is that Tucker McKinstry?" Sebastian asks with a laugh as Tucker walks over with his girl, Jane. He looks so uncomfortable in his suit. He keeps pulling on the collar. "I didn't know they made suits that big."

Everyone laughs, including Tucker as they come over and say hi.

It's a festive atmosphere and everyone seems to be having a good time even though we were all grumbling about it yesterday. The women look unbelievable and the spectacular setting can't be beat.

I spot the host of the party, Brantley VanMorgan, walking out of the yacht's cockpit and my pulse starts racing. I want to thank him for the party and properly introduce myself before everyone else gets to him and I'll no longer have the chance.

I come from a modest, blue-collar background and it doesn't feel right to me that I haven't thanked the man paying me eight million dollars a year yet.

With one last sip of champagne, I put my glass on the bar, fix my tie, and head over .

He's speaking with the Captain on the upper deck as I make my way up the stairs.

This man looks rich. If you put him in a crowd of a thousand people, anyone would be able to pick him out as the only billionaire, even if they were all dressed the same. Maybe it's the wavy salt and pepper hair, the easy smile, the mischievous sparkle in his blue eyes, or the big-money energy, but it's clear that he is mega-loaded.

He shakes hands with the Captain and heads for the stairs.

"Mr. Barlowe," he says with a jovial smile when he sees me walking up. "I was hoping to see you tonight."

"Really?"

"The man who saved six shots in ten seconds yesterday?" he says with a grin. "Of course! I'm just upset I was in Paris and couldn't see it in person."

I shake his hand and smile back at him. "I just wanted to thank you for signing me to your team. And for the very generous contract."

"You're worth every penny," he says as he hits my shoulder. "Come, I'll give you the tour. You have to see the wine cellar on this thing."

"Okay," I say with a laugh as he brings me down the hall.

I take one last look at the team by the bar and my heart nearly stops when I see her.

She's… She's everything.

My lungs forget how to breathe as I stand here, stunned to my very core.

She's standing beside the coach with her arm on his, looking like an angel.

At first, I think it's the coach's wife, but she's way too young for that. I heard that the coach has been married for a long time, so she can't possibly be his wife.

But… who?

I'm desperate to find out. My insides are screaming at me to go down there and claim her as my own. To profess my undying love for her. To put a ring on her finger. To pick her up and carry her home.

"Excuse me, Mr. VanMorgan," the Captain says as he returns. "One more question for you."

Brantley turns to me. "Excuse me, Nolan, just for a minute."

I nod to him and immediately look back at my girl as they walk into the control room to talk.

My whole body tingles as I stare at her, wondering if she's real. Her brown hair falls like silk over her shoulders, her eyes a stunning shade of blue I've never seen before as if the universe has saved it exclusively for her.

Her silver dress shimmers and sparkles with every move she makes as if it's woven from stardust and moonlight. It makes those hips mesmerizing to stare at.

She laughs at something Sebastian says to the group and my chest gets all tight with the need to be closer to her, to be touching her, to be basking in her radiance. Her smile is stunning. It's brighter than the sun. It's more powerful than the stars. It's pulling me in like a black hole.

Her ethereal beauty has my hands trembling.

My world has shifted.

Everything revolves around her now.

I hope VanMorgan never returns. I can't take my eyes off her. Every second I stare at her, I'm drawn in further, I become more obsessed. Something deep and primal is taking over my body. An insatiable hunger that might never leave.

I can already see our whole future together laid out in front of me—marriage, kids, growing old together—I can see it all. Talking all night with a bottle of wine, sleeping in with our limbs all tangled up, traveling the world, getting married, playing with our kids, growing old and gray… My heart is racing with anticipation to experience it all with this angel.

She's mine and she has no idea.

I grip the metal railing and squeeze it as the waitress hands her a drink. She takes a sip—placing those soft luscious lips on the glass—and then her eyes connect with mine.

It's like a shot in the heart. Those gorgeous blue eyes gazing up at me are piercing.

She doesn't look away. Neither do I.

I see a spark in her eyes. A spark of something that promises everything.

"Mr. Barlowe," Brantley says, nearly giving me a heart attack. I didn't hear him sneaking up on me. I was too focused on my girl. "I'm terribly sorry about that. Shall we begin the tour?"

"Um," I say with an itch in my throat. I turn back to my girl and her eyes are already off me. She's speaking to the group. I wonder what she's saying. "Yes."

I take one last long look at her and then follow Brantley along the deck. He's talking about the teak floors we're walking on, but all I'm thinking about is her.

"This yacht has it all," he says as he opens a door and we head inside. "It came with a helicopter, can you believe that?"

This morning, I would have been impressed. Now, I would trade everything I have—I would trade all the treasures in the world—to be able to wake up in bed next to that angel. To climb on top of her and see her tired, smiling face under me as I slide into her hot wet pussy.

If I had her, I'd be the richest man in the world.

It wouldn't even be close.

VanMorgan shows me a few luxurious bedrooms—each with an ensuite bathroom, and then he shows me the office area. There's a massive conference room with a giant table surrounded by black leather chairs.

"Would you like to know why I bought the Hyenas?" Brantley asks. "I could have bought any team in the league, but I wanted the worst one."

"Yeah, why did you pick the Hyenas?" I ask with a chuckle. They were dog shit for decades. Always ranked last for everything and the arena barely had a thirty percent occupancy rate for the home games.

"I love hockey," he says as we walk through the giant kitchen where a dozen chefs are scurrying around, preparing appetizers and desserts. "And I wanted to make my mark on the league. I could have bought a highly-ranked team, but what challenge is there in that? If I had success, people would say I achieved it with my wallet. But if I took the worst team in the league and molded it into the best? Then, everyone would have to admit that we did something special."

"You've done amazing so far," I say as we head into the wine cellar. My mouth drops when I see all of the bottles lined up to the tall ceiling. "The Hyenas made it into the playoffs for the first time in a long time."

He grins and nods. "Yes, but the job is not done yet."

"We'll get there," I say as I check out an old bottle on display. The handwriting on the label is all faded.

"I know," Brantley says with a smile. "I believe in our group. And I believe in you."

He picks up the bottle and shows it to me.

"From the royal cellar of Louis Phillippe the First, King of France," VanMorgan says with a grin. "Almost two hundred years old. Worth an obscene amount of money, but probably tastes like rotting grape juice by now."

"Are you ever going to drink it?"

He grins. "Win me a championship and I'll crack it open. We can drink it from the Stony Cup."

I laugh, eager to experience that. "You got it."

He returns the bottle and we head back out.

My mind darts back to the mystery girl on Coach's arm as VanMorgan tells me to have fun and then leaves to schmooze more of his guests.

I search the crowd for her, my heart pounding harder with every second I don't see her. Finally, I find her by the bar and I take a breath of relief .

My possessive eyes track her every move while I imagine what it would be like to possess her, to have her all to myself.

Those pink lips are making my body ache. I'm all shaky with a desperate edgy feeling in my core. Seeing her surrounded by all those men… Fuck, watching them look at her is making my blood boil. It's making me want to go over there, throw her over my shoulder, and bring her into one of those bedrooms I just saw. She's for my eyes only. Those mesmerizing hips, those intoxicating breasts… this girl is killing me.

I walk toward her, cutting through the crowd with a single purpose on my mind—making her mine.

"Barlowe," the coach says in a deep voice as he suddenly pops up in front of me.

He looks me up and down with an appraising eye and then grunts, like he begrudgingly approves of my suit.

"I trust you'll be a good representative of the team tonight," he says in a stern tone.

"You don't have to worry about me, Coach," I say as I glance at my girl over his shoulder. She's talking with some of the wives and girlfriends of the team. Her blue eyes dart over to me and my knees nearly buckle.

"Are you here with your wife?" I ask, fishing for details.

"She wasn't feeling well," he says. "I brought my daughter instead."

"Your… daughter?" I say with a crack in my voice.

His stern eyes narrow on me.

"Don't even think about it," he hisses in a low voice like he can read my mind. "She is off-limits."

I glance at her. I can't help it. I know it's a bad move, but my eyes just keep going to her like they have a mind of their own.

He turns and practically growls when he sees where I'm looking.

"That's my little girl," he says, glaring at me with murderous eyes. "Try anything and you'll be swimming home, you got that?"

I force out a nod.

She's not his little girl anymore.

She's mine.

And it's time to let her know it.