Chapter 14

Kali

Kali Roth seen leaving nightclub with Eagles defenseman, ‘Wild' Wade Collins

Unpeeling my tongue from the roof of my drier than a desert mouth, I let out a groggy, "Oh, God," as a marching band parades through my temples. Rolling onto my back gingerly, I reach up to massage them and then the tense spot between my brows. I never drink. A glass of wine here and there, a cocktail with the girls once in a while, but never to the extent I did last night.

Last night I drank to get drunk, to forget. Goddamn Michael and his hateful words.

His threat of opening his own talent agency in the city pushed me over the edge. I'm all for a little healthy competition, but knowing Michael the way I do, he'll only do it to spite me because he's read the press release I published last week announcing my plans.

And him and Darcy are having a baby. God, that stings.

I don't remember anything after my run in with Michael. So that worked in my favor… until now. I feel like death and then some.

"Morning, Ms. Roth." A disembodied voice, one that sounds a lot like Wade, makes my eyes snap open and I instantly regret it. Who moved the sun inside the room and hell, no, what the heck… Wade? And where am I? I bolt upright and consider lying back down immediately as my stomach flips. I feel like I might vomit.

With one hand rubbing my thumping temples, I lay the other flat against my churning stomach. I need food. Lots of it. It's the only thing that will settle my stomach.

Shutting one eye, because it's way too bright, accentuates my headache that's beating loudly in my eardrums. So loud, I swear there are miniature people in there punching each other to smithereens.

As a clearer vision of Wade comes to view, he dries his wet hair with a white fluffy towel.

And wow.Naked from the waist up, a pair of gray sweatpants hang low on his hips. He has abs for days that I could quite easily climb up all the way to his mouth.

Stop it.

Is he not wearing any boxers?‘Cause I sure as hell can see the outline of his huge dick through those.

Stop looking, you hussy.

"Is this your room?" I close my eyes again and apprehensively wait for an answer.

"Yes."

"Oh, hell. What am I doing here?" I'm ninety-nine percent certain I'm going to vomit if I don't eat something soon; my head and stomach are spinning faster than a Tilt-A-Whirl and I don't know if it's from the alcohol or the realization that I'm in one of my client's bedrooms.

Oh my god, Marcus is going to fire my ass. Then he'll hire Michael to do the work.

Wade breaks my faster than a NASCAR thoughts. "Your friends went home with mine. I don't know your home address and you were too wasted to be left unaccompanied, so I brought you here."

Okay, that makes sense.

"Thank you." I'm never drinking again and I'm getting a restraining order against Michael. I won't really, but it's a great idea.

Looking down, I take a peek through the narrowed slits of my eyes to reveal what I'm wearing, relieved to find I'm in a tee shirt. I hold out my arm to examine the shoulder. Not a tee shirt, but a blue and yellow hockey jersey. Eagle's colors with Wade's player number eighteen printed on it in white.

"We didn't, you know?" My heart beats in time with the continuous low thumping through my head and I can barely bring myself to look at him.

"No, we didn't have sex. You're my publicist, remember? Also, fucking unconscious women isn't something I'm into," he confirms, if not a little sarcastically, folding his towel neatly as he disappears into the adjoining bathroom. "You did strip down to your underwear then dance for me though." His echoes travel into the bedroom. "I was almost tempted."

I cover my face with my hands.

Dancing? What was I thinking?

Clearly, I wasn't.

From my side, I hear him reenter the room. "Don't be embarrassed. You've got moves. Nice ass, by the way. Underwear looks expensive. Designer?" There's so much humor in his tone, but I want to curl up into a ball and die.

"Italian," I answer without meaning to. I grimace, annoyed at myself for telling him.

Peeking through my fingers, Wade pulls a black tee shirt on, making every inch of him look delicious as the fabric skims his perfectly sculpted frame.

My eyes seem annoyed that he's covered himself up, as they seem to have a mind of their own when I am around him, which is becoming an issue.

I curse under my breath. Dragging my hands down I uncover my face, and look away, silently praying to myself that he doesn't see my distress.

Stupid athletes and their abs. Well, just stupid Wade and his abs.I can't help it. My eyes like them, and him. He's very distracting.

"There is skincare and makeup for you in the bathroom." Spraying his aftershave on his face and clothes, I watch his reflection in the mirror.

"Makeup?" I ask him in shock.

"Went through your personal Instagram page, not your business one. Made a list of things from the brands you use and had the concierge match them to products that are similar from the spa. You wear super fancy products, by the way," he says flippantly while I sit there, in complete shock. "And there are a pair of high-waisted Givenchy flared jeans, tall, obviously, which I know are your favorite. Well, so you said on one of your social posts, so I am hoping that it's true, and a cashmere Givenchy turtleneck sweater in black hanging up in the wardrobe. Looks similar to a gray one you have on in a video you did about Givenchy makeup." He points to the open closet and there they are, hanging up like fashion outfit perfection. "I hope they fit; I based the sizes on your dress from last night, which is also hanging up. Do you get good money from the influencer stuff? It seems to be a thing with girls these days."

Shaking my head, unable to grasp what is going on, I ignore his question. "You did that for me?"

"The hotel spa does hair and beauty, and the hotel boutique does women's designer clothing. Didn't have to go too far."

"Right." He still went to all that effort for me, which is kind of… lovely and astonishing.

Wade grabs a pair of black Converse boots and pushes his feet into them. "I'm going shopping, need new Cons," he says while tying his laces. I can clearly see about thirty neatly stacked boxes of Converse and some Nikes, all lined along the far end of the bedroom. "Just a few of my collection." He notices where my gaze travels to.

"You like sneakers?"

"Love the fucking things. Got another two hundred pairs in storage."

Wow. Didn't see any of that on his socials.He should talk about that to show people his personality and hobbies. He's more likable and relatable than he knows.

"Right. I'll leave you to see yourself out. Call reception and have them order you a cab and put it on my room." Rising to his feet, he pulls a black hoodie off the chair and puts it on. Guy lives in casual clothes. I"ve only ever seen him in a suit, before and after a game, and on the first day we met when he was wearing a dress shirt and pants. Last night was the first night I'd seen him in jeans. It's mainly sweatpants and shorts. He must be freezing.

"Wait," I call out, stopping him in his tracks. "Can I come shopping with you?" I have nothing scheduled for today. I was going to tinker with some pruning and potting in my backyard, which looks quintessentially like a British country garden.

Wade frowns, then it grows deeper. "You want to come shopping with me?"

"Yeah. I don't have any plans today." I fiddle with my fingers. "We're going to be working together for the entire hockey season and spending countless hours together." Marcus even told me I'll need to travel to most of the away games to manage Wade at the press conferences. "I think it would be a great idea to get to know one other better, don't you?"

Pushing his hands into the snug front pocket of his hoodie, he doesn't speak for a minute and then he finally says, "Okay."

Smiling wide, I drop my shoulders, relieved he agreed and excited that I am spending the day with him.

Nope, that's not it, it's just the shopping part, that's what I am excited about.I love shopping. My favorite thing to do is shop. And has nothing to do with being in Wade's orbit. Nope, not a thing.

"Will we get breakfast?" My stomach rumbles excitedly.

"You missed that. It's lunchtime."

I groan. "I'm not usually this unprofessional."

"I know."

"You don't though. Not really."

"I know you enough."

"Great. I'll get ready then." I jump out of bed, instantly feeling dizzy when I stand, the room whooshing around me.

Grabbing the sides of my head, I push my fingers into my scalp to stop it from hurting. "You don't happen to have any Tylenol, do you?" And I need water. Stat.

"Those are in the bathroom for you and there's water by the bed."

He's thought of everything. A true gentleman.

"Thank you. For everything." I give him a grateful nod and grab the bottle of water off the nightstand, stepping into the en suite to get ready for the day.

"Kali," Wade calls out my name and when I turn around, I catch him staring at my legs for a beat too long. "Michael's a bigger dick than I am."

You look like you have a much bigger dick than he does, I want to say, but I internalize it and go for, "He is," instead.

"Forget about him."

"Trying to."

Wade's Adam's apple moves slowly up and then down, then he says, "You're not a has been, you never will be. You're an icon and respected all around the world." He pauses. "For what it's worth, I think you're really beautiful."

I've heard that all of my life, but somehow, Wade saying it hits different. He's not saying it to make me feel better or because it's the right thing to say. It feels honest and pure and is sort of freaking me out because I don't know what to do with the compliment.

"I've got a few pieces of paperwork to go over that Lola left for me. Once I'm finished, I'll wait for you in reception."

Then he leaves me standing in his bedroom.

I grab my phone from the nightstand he's kindly plugged in and is fully charged, groaning at the dozen or more notifications that glare back at me.

I skim through them quickly, relieved nothing needs my immediate attention and can all wait until Monday. I couldn't handle a full-scale public relations crisis today.

Tapping open my messages app, I type a message in the group chat with my two friends.

ME:

Thanks for leaving me.

ELLIS:

Drama queen. We left you in Wade's capable hands.

JOY:

He looks capable of anything! Big hands.

ME:

Shut up.

ELLIS:

Big everything. Where are you?

ME:

At his hotel.

ELLIS:

Finally, our girl got some.

JOY:

Needed to fuck Michael out of your system. It's about time.

ELLIS:

Way to go, Kali!

ME:

Nothing happened.

JOY:

Don't believe you. Never thought we'd all be hooking up with younger men but looks like that's what we are doing.

ME:

Like I said, nothing happened. He's a client.

ELLIS:

Liar. Your eyes tell a different story. You like him, don't deny it.

I ignore Ellis.

ME:

I'm guessing you two had fun last night?

JOY:

Lots *devil emoji*

ELLIS:

Hours of fun.

JOY:

Sore today. How about you, Kali? C'mon, do tell.

ME:

There is nothing to tell. I'm not screwing with you. All I have is a sore head today and nothing else.

Changing the course of the conversation, I steer them away from jibes involving Wade.

ME:

Where are you two?

JOY:

We're having brunch with Ezra and Myles at Casper's. Come join us.

ME:

I've already made plans.

ELLIS:

With whom, doing what?

JOY:

Does it involve Wade?

ME:

I'm ending this conversation. Have fun.

Then I text back with what I forgot to tell them last night.

ME:

I'm skipping the next three Fridays. My schedule is slammed.

ELLIS:

Make sure you add Wade into your schedule.

ME:

It's all Wade, but NOT like that.

JOY:

Don't work too hard.

ELLIS:

Try having some fun… please?

ME:

I'll try. x

Placing my phone back on the nightstand, I cast my gaze around Wade's suite.

Surrounded by his intoxicating scent, my head swims from his beautiful gestures that are sitting in his bathroom, hanging up in his wardrobe along with his words… I think you're really beautiful.

Who are you really, Wade Collins?

I'm excited to find out.