Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Brantley

“ S hould we head up?” Zara asks as I send an email from my phone. We’re in the back of a limousine in the private parking lot of Speedy Mobile Arena in Cincinnati. Game One of the Stoney Cup playoffs is about to start in less than an hour.

I hope the boys are zeroed in. They’re ready. I know they are. They just have to believe they’re going to win.

“Let’s go,” I say as I open the door and head out. I fix my suit as Zara and a few other of my top executives step out, looking both excited and nervous. I keep a calm face on. It’s important as the captain of the ship to set the right tone.

We head upstairs through the back where it’s all staff, reporters, and security. I have a private box waiting for me—a courtesy that the owners’ give to one another.

I just want to get to my seat and get focused on the game, but when I step out of the elevator on the luxurious floor where the private boxes are located, I see something that rocks me to my core.

Standing in front of a camera, speaking into a microphone is the most compelling woman I’ve ever seen.

I’m entranced by her. I can’t look away. She’s far enough that I can’t hear what she’s saying, but she’s close enough to know that I want her.

I want her like I’ve never wanted anything before. I want her so badly it scares me.

I’m a man who can get anything he wants. A private jet? That’s a snap of my fingers. A private villa on Lake Como? One phone call. A sit-down with the President of the United States? Forty-eight hours later, I’ll be sipping tea in the Oval Office.

But her?

I don’t know if I can get her. And that thought is terrifying.

Love is something even billionaires cannot buy.

“Riley MacIntosh,” Zara whispers in my ear as she sidles up to me. “Owner of the Cincinnati Vipers.”

“ That’s Riley MacIntosh?” I say, unable to take my eyes off her.

I was expecting… I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t to see the girl of my dreams. I’m completely thrown here, and I’m a man who never gets thrown.

Zara rifles through her bag and pulls out a magazine.

“Sports Animated Magazine wrote an article on her,” she says as she hands me the magazine. “It makes her look very impressive.”

I force my eyes off her to look at the magazine in my hands. She’s on the cover, looking ravishing in front of a Zamboni. The sleeves of her oil-stained white blouse are rolled up her arms and she’s got a look of determination on her stunning face. I smile when I see a streak of oil on her cheek.

The Owner Who Can Do It All is written underneath.

I’m in awe as I stare at the photo. I roll up the magazine and tuck it under my arm as I look at her in the flesh once again.

She’s amazing. She looks so confident as she answers the interviewer’s questions and I’m immediately taken with her.

Her blonde hair is pulled back into a bun and I love it because there’s not one hair hiding her flawless face. I’m mesmerized by her green eyes that look so alert and full of determination.

My eyes roam down her body and I can barely breathe as I take in the gorgeous view. She’s wearing a beautiful black dress, which is both classy and sexy at the same time. It makes me all light-headed. My heart pounds as I stare at her, trying to memorize every inch of her curves.

“Do you want to meet her?” Zara whispers in my ear.

I don’t take my eyes off her. “More than anything.”

Zara heads over and introduces herself to her people. A lady in a pantsuit who was just talking to Zara whispers in my girl’s ear and she looks over at me.

I get a jolt of something fierce when we make eye contact.

She promptly ends the interview, excuses herself, and comes over, marching right up to me with a gleam in her stunning green eyes.

Normally, I’d be projecting strength and confidence right now, trying to put the fear of God into a rival owner, but I can barely keep my hands from shaking.

I feel like a teenage boy who’s about to talk to his crush who is way out of his league. I don’t know what to do. I suddenly forget how to stand. Where should I put my damn arms?

I cross them, then put them in my pockets, and then take them out when she finally arrives.

“Mr. VanMorgan,” she says thrusting her hand out. “I’m Riley MacIntosh. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

I swallow hard and nod as I take her hand, feeling her soft warm skin. It sets a fire raging inside me that wants more more more. I want to feel every inch of her. I want those hands all over me.

“The pleasure is all mine,” I say as I shake hands with her. She pulls her hand back and I reluctantly let it go. “Thank you for hosting us. I was just looking at your article.”

She laughs when she sees the magazine rolled up under my arm. “Of course, they used the photo where I had oil smeared on my face.”

“I think you look phenomenal,” I say, knowing I’m coming on too strong, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

“It’s very cool,” Zara says, stepping in to save me before I blow my shot forever. “Only a badass female owner would know how to fix a Zamboni.”

“Thank you,” she says, smiling shyly. “My father made sure I knew every little detail about hockey. The game and everything involved in it.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your father,” I tell her, suddenly getting my composure back. “He was a very special man. Hockey was lucky to have him.”

“So was I,” she says, smiling sadly.

The sad beautiful sight breaks my heart. I want to reach out and take her in my arms. I want to hug her. I want to kiss her. I want to take all her pain away.

Instead, I just stand there and nod. I can’t do anything else. She’s not mine to comfort.

Not yet anyway.

“Well, good luck in the game,” she says, smiling the sadness away. “But not too much luck.”

Everyone laughs around her. I’m too mesmerized to laugh.

“Please let us know if you’re lacking anything.”

The only thing I’m lacking is her.

She’s the one thing I don’t have and the one thing I have no idea how to get.

“We’ll meet again soon,” she says before leaving with her people.

“Wow, she’s awesome,” Zara says, staring at her in awe as she walks away. “So cool. I want to be her.”

I just want her.

My head is swimming with the image of that goddess as we walk to my private box. I can’t think of the game or anything else as I sit down. I’m stuck in a fog of awe.

The game starts and I have trouble paying attention. I keep looking across the arena at Riley’s box, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

I can barely see her, but I can’t stop looking.

Several minutes into the game, I’m still thinking of her soft lips and gorgeous figure when the siren blares and the crowd cheers. I look up from my dazed stupor and wince when I see that the Vipers have scored.

Instead of looking at the Hyenas or the replay playing on the big screen, I look at my girl celebrating on the other side of the arena. I wish I was next to her, so I could see that gorgeous smile on her face. I wish I was one of those lucky people getting a high-five from her.

All I get is the tiny image of her celebrating, but it’s still enough to fill my chest with warmth.

“Why are you smiling ?” Zara asks, looking incredulous. “They just scored. Oh .”

She follows my eyes to see where I’m looking.

“Someone’s got a crush on the rival owner, I see.”

I don’t deny it. There’s no point. And to be honest, I might need Zara’s help to get this dream woman on my arm. I’ll take all the help I can get.

We end up losing, one to nothing.

The boys played great, or at least of what I saw they did. But the Vipers are a strong team and they got lucky with that one shot.

Stunningly, I’m not upset. I’m excited.

The game is over, which means that Riley MacIntosh will finally be leaving her private box. And the loss gives me the perfect excuse to go talk to her. I’ll congratulate her on her team’s victory and hopefully make plans to see her again.

“She’s single,” Zara tells me as we walk into the hallway. She’s doing some research on her phone, trying to give me an edge. “At least, as far as I can tell.”

She better not be taken. I don’t know what I’d do if my dream girl had a boyfriend. I don’t even want to go there. Some dark parts of your mind should remain boarded up forever and that’s one of them.

“It says here she owns a penthouse suite here in Cincinnati and her family has a home in London,” Zara says, reading off her phone. “She played hockey in college. She’s quite proficient at the violin. She took over her father’s office, which has a signed Carlo Leduc jersey and Maurice Belanger’s hockey gloves.”

“Maurice Belanger?” I say with a grin. “Perfect.”

“Who’s that?” Zara asks. She knows everything about business, but her hockey knowledge is severely lacking.

“He’s my ticket in.”

“What does that mean?”

I spot her in the hallway, the center of attention around a group of people in suits and dresses. My heart squeezes in anticipation of being close to that angel again. My desire for her hasn’t decreased since our first meeting. It’s only grown stronger. It’s consuming every thought I have.

I’m not a timid man, so I don’t hang back and wait for her to free up. I walk right up to my woman with my chin held high.

She smiles when she sees me. Everyone parts as I approach.

“Congratulations on the win,” I say as I offer my hand.

She shakes it as she looks up at me with those intoxicating green eyes. This time I don’t surrender her hand so easily. I continue to hold it, feeling her warmth.

“Thank you,” she says as the people back away, giving us space. “It was a close game. Your boys played very well.”

I’m forced to relinquish her hand and my whole body lets me know it’s not happy about it. I get this tight edgy feeling I know won’t go away until I get to touch her again.

“You did a wonderful job,” I tell her. “You should be proud of what you accomplished.”

“I didn’t score the goal,” she says with a grin and a tilt of her head. “I can’t take much credit when I was sitting in the box.”

“They wouldn’t have been able to practice without a Zamboni-fixing owner, so I don’t know about that.”

She chuckles. “Are you flying back home tonight, Mr. VanMorgan?”

“I was planning to, but I think I might stay. Something has caught my eye.”

A sizzle fills the air as we stare at each other for a long heated moment.

Her cheeks turn an innocent shade of pink and I have to fight back the urge to step closer. My pulse is thundering through my body. I feel like I’m going to combust, the fire of desire inside me is burning so hot.

All I want is to touch her. To claim her. To make her mine. To make her scream.

My whole body is throbbing for it. It’s aching to have her.

I’ve never been unsettled like this.

“I hear you have Maurice Belanger’s hockey gloves in your office,” I say, desperate to get her alone.

“I do,” she says with a warm smile. “My father was a huge Maurice Belanger fan.”

“He had good taste. I have his signed hockey stick.”

She gasps. “My father would have been so jealous. He would have loved to have seen that.”

“And I would love to see those gloves,” I tell her.

She smiles politely. “You’ll have to stop by my office sometime.”

“How about now?”

Zara starts coughing behind me. “** cough ** Coming on too strong ** cough cough **. Pull it back ** cough **.”

I frown as I turn to her. “Do you need a cough drop?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” she says, clearing her throat.

I turn back to my girl and am struck again by the stunning sight. She really is something special.

“I’d love to show you the gloves,” she says with a twinkle in her eye. “This way.”

I follow her down the hall, walking beside her as our entourages remain behind. Zara immediately starts introducing herself to all of them.

“Do you collect a lot of hockey memorabilia?” she asks.

“I do,” I say with a nod. “When I can find something worth remembering.”

“I imagine a famous billionaire like you collects a lot of things,” she says, looking at me with a grin. “Cars, houses, women.”

I stop and take her hand. She looks up at me with a surprised little gasp.

“Women are not to be collected,” I tell her, looking deep into her eyes. “They’re to be treasured and worshipped by their soulmate. Anything else goes against the nature of our existence.”

“And what about you, Mr. VanMorgan? Have you found your soulmate?”

I look at her as my heart fills with a warm desire. It’s radiating out of my chest and surging through my limbs. It feels incredible finally being in my soulmate’s presence, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

“I believe I have.”

She drops her eyes, looking disappointed. “Congratulations. She must be a lucky lady.”

I want to tell her she’s the one, but she pulls her hand from mine and continues walking, her pace quickening. I rush to keep up.

She unlocks her office and shows me in.

It’s beautiful in here with various hockey memorabilia under glass and a gorgeous view of the city at night. There’s a large oak desk in front of the window, the surface neat and tidy, which I appreciate. I like people who are organized and efficient. A messy desk signals neither.

“Here they are,” she says as she walks over to a glass case and flicks a switch, lighting them up.

The gloves were so different back then. They’re worn leather, stitched by hand. Maurice Belanger’s signature is scribbled on the right one in black, the same shape as the autograph on my stick.

But these gloves are not what I came to this office to see. I came to see if she’s feeling an ounce of what I am.

I turn to her, unable to hold back the fire blazing inside. “Come out with me.”

She looks legitimately confused. “What? Where?”

“Anywhere,” I say, struggling to keep my hands off her. “Come with me for a drink, or for dinner, or to Paris. Wherever you want.”

She laughs. “Paris?”

“Or Rome. Your choice.”

She steps back and crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes on me. “What about this special soulmate of yours?”

“She wouldn’t mind. She would love it.”

Riley laughs incredulously. “Oh, really?”

“Really,” I say as I step up to her. “Because I believe my soulmate is you.”

“Me?” she says, stepping back. “ Me? ”

“Are you telling me you don’t feel it?” I ask as I step toward her while she takes another step back. “I’ve never felt anything so strongly as how I feel when I look at you.”

Her bum bumps against the desk and she gasps. She never takes her eyes off mine. She’s feeling it too. I can tell.

“Are you intrigued by me?”

“Who wouldn’t be intrigued by you?” she answers. “You’re Brantley VanMorgan. You’re a very intriguing man.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” I say as I reach out and drag the back of my hand down her cheek. She closes her eyes and lets out a sexy little breath.

“You’re the enemy,” she says with a raspy tone. “My father said never to let your guard down around your enemies.”

“I’m not your enemy, sweet girl,” I say as I gently take her hand. “I’d dismantle the entire Hyenas organization for one kiss from your soft tender lips.”

“Are you sure there’s no one else?” she asks, looking at me skeptically.

“I’m certain of it. Who on this planet can hope to compare to you?”

I lean in and hover my mouth over hers. She shivers as her lips part and her head tilts back.

“Do you want to have dinner with me?” I whisper.

She opens her eyes and they’re full of lust. “ Yes .”

I look at her mouth and the yearning is unbearable. “Can I kiss you?”

“ Yes .”

I slide my hands around her possessively and pull her against my body as I kiss her soft beautiful lips. Her hands slide into my hair and she moans as I taste her sweet mouth.

My whole body comes alive. It’s like lightning striking between us.

Her hands slide down to my shoulders, tightening on them as I deepen the kiss, wanting nothing more than to live in this magical moment forever.

It’s the most perfect kiss I’ve ever had. I’ll treasure the memory of it for the rest of my life.

Her teeth tug on my bottom lip as we separate.

I grin as I watch her lick her lips, those cheeks all flushed, her glossy eyes full of arousal, a loose thread of her blonde hair tumbling down onto her cheek. She’s fucking perfect.

“I’ll get my assistant to get us a reservation somewhere nice,” she says, stepping back to compose herself. She takes a deep breath, fixes her dress, and then heads to the door.

I’m standing here in disbelief that I have the taste of an angel on my tongue.