16. Monroe

SIXTEEN

MONROE

"The WAGs' suite is this way," Taylor says as I follow her down the long, carpeted hallway. If you had told me yesterday that I would be feeling well enough to come to the game today, I'd have told you to lay off the sauce. But Riggs was right. The two orgasms he gave me did the trick, and I woke up feeling like myself again.

I have to admit that sleeping next to him was different than I had expected. Sure, I've done it once already, but that wasn't the same. That was sex. But this? I don't know what it was, but between you and me…I really fucking liked it. I inwardly groan at the thought.

I opened my eyes, expecting to feel lingering cramps, but they were completely gone. I sat up carefully, just in case, and looked around to find myself all alone in the room. I knew he had to be at the stadium early, so I took my time getting out of bed and made my way to the kitchen for some much-needed food and caffeine. Sitting on the counter was a bag of Mini Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, the bottle of ibuprofen I ordered yesterday, and a glass of water sitting on top of a note.

Mayhem,

If you aren't feeling better this morning, stay in bed. I don't want you leaving unless you're back to your snarky, sarcastic, radiant self.

Take the ibuprofen, eat the chocolate, and I'll rub your tummy…and any other parts of you that you ask me to…later tonight.

xo,

Val

I wanted him to be the asshole that I made him out to be in my own head so badly. But he just isn't . I've seen him with family and friends, so I knew he had a caring side, but when I was the one needing help, I expected the bare minimum. When he picked me up from where I collapsed in the hallway and didn't leave my side all night, I was shocked. Then, finding my favorite candy and a note that was equal parts snide and sweet, made my heart thump harder in my chest.

We approach a dark wooden door, and Taylor swipes a card over the digital pad beside it. She waits while the lock disengages before pushing it open and walking in with me following closely behind. There are several women and children moving around the room, some of whom I recognize from the charity event. I slip the same mask of confidence I used that night over my face and smile at them as she leads me to my seat.

"Help yourself to any food or drinks. Everything is catered and it's an open bar," she says with a smile. "Friggle will be up here to visit with the kids soon, so try not to fight any of your boyfriend's battles with the poor guy." I chuckle, recalling the videos of Riggs teeing off on the mascot's creepy-looking face.

It's not funny, but it kind of is.

She lowers her voice so only I can hear. "He's an amazing guy. A little misunderstood, but I'll fight to keep him on this team until my last breath. Having you here has already helped so much, and you haven't even gotten to meet Mr. Durst. Word is getting around though, so you can probably expect him to pop in and say hello."

I nod my head in understanding. I did my research on the team's owner, and on paper, he seems like your run-of-the-mill billionaire. He was born into wealth, just like me, and has been running his family's successful finance and investments firm for almost fifty years. That may seem intimidating to most people, but I've been rubbing elbows with people like him since I was a kid. I may have left that life behind, but I learned a few tricks along the way. I should be able to handle him with no problem.

"If you're all set, I have to head down to the field. Riggs knows you're up here, and he asked me to make sure you had everything you needed before I left," she says, and there goes my heart again.

"I'm good," I tell her. "Go wrangle those giant children before another innocent mascot gets knocked out."

She laughs. "Enjoy the game, Monroe."

Taylor exits, and I stand from my seat to look out the window. Players are funneling out from the locker rooms, and butterflies take flight in my stomach as Riggs runs onto the field like he owns it. I'm not sure what to expect because it's his first game back since the whole debacle, but I breathe a sigh of relief when the crowd doesn't boo him. They don't cheer for him either, but it's a step in the right direction. In an effort to be closer to him, I grab some food and head out the glass door at the front of the suite, where a row of luxury seats awaits behind a short wall that separates them from the fans. I'm surprised when I look over to see that I'm completely alone out here. None of these women want to see the game from outside their cushy all expenses paid glass box?

Whatever. More room for my snacks.

By the time I'm settled in with my popcorn, the first batter is stepping up to the plate. Riggs leans forward, watching his catcher for the signal, and nods in agreement when he sees it. He winds up, lifting his front knee and firing the ball straight down the middle of the strike zone. The batter doesn't swing, but he also doesn't look affected as he takes his stance, getting ready for the next pitch. Just like last time, Riggs waits for Ace to give him the call, then sends it low and outside. This time, the guy swings and misses. The crowd, who had been fairly silent before, begins clapping and cheering as pitch number three goes right into the catcher's mitt before the umpire calls the batter out.

The second person up gets a piece of the first pitch, but it pops up, flying behind home plate. Ace shoots to his feet, throws his mask down, and waits as the ball descends, falling into his mitt with ease.

That's two.

The next batter looks to be about seven feet tall with thighs bigger than my entire body. His biceps are straining against the fabric of his jersey, and the look on his face is a thing of nightmares. But Riggs just stands there staring at him, completely unbothered. Just like the other two, he gets ready and makes the pitch. It's really high, but the guy swings anyway, sending the ball down the third baseline. I hold my breath, watching as it flies over the back wall, just out of play. The words Foul Ball! light up on the Jumbotron, and the batter returns to the box. The next pitch is a strike, followed by another. Riggs does a fist pump before running to the dugout with his team.

"Way to go, Val!" I yell loudly before I can stop the words from coming out. I look around, but then I realize that I'm supposed to be doing stuff like that anyway. I am his girlfriend, after all.

The next few innings go by in a flash, and the Fury are up three runs to none. Riggs is pitching great, and the fans are back to cheering for him. He's smiling and having a great time out there, which warms my heart because he really does deserve it.

Just as I go to open my second bag of Twizzlers, someone takes a seat next to me. I look over to find Randolph Durst in a three-piece suit, holding tightly to a giant bag of Cracker Jacks.

"Out here all alone, huh?" he says, popping one into his mouth as a Fury batter steps up to the plate.

I look around. "Seems so," I answer. "I don't know why everybody wants to stay cooped up in there. Being outside at a baseball game is where it's at."

He chuckles. "I couldn't agree more. Randy," he says in introduction, extending his hand between us.

"Monroe," I reply, placing my palm in his and shaking it firmly.

He pulls back, popping another piece of the caramel corn into his mouth and chewing. "I've heard so many good things about you. I'm glad you could join us here in Daytona."

"Me too," I tell him with a smile, surprised I'm not acting when I say it. As much as I fought the move, it really isn't so bad. The weather here is amazing, and it almost reminds me of the better parts of California. The parts that I actually miss.

"So, tell me about yourself, Monroe. You must be a pretty special girl to have caught the eye of our star down there."

I'm skeptical at first, because I don't know if he's being sarcastic or not. At this point, the next person who disrespects Riggs in front of me is catching these hands—billionaire or not. But when I look over at him, his eyes are sincere.

"There really isn't much to tell," I reply. "I grew up in California. When I graduated from college with my marketing degree, I decided to try something new. I moved across the country to a little beach town outside of Boston and worked at a small boutique until it closed a little over a month ago. As far as your star," I say, looking down to the field where Riggs is leaning out of the dugout, hyping up his teammates as they go up to bat, "he's my best friend's brother." Obviously, I'm not going to tell him how we really met, so this seems like a way to explain how we ended up together without having to lie.

"Ooh, I love that trope," he says, catching me off guard. I raise an eyebrow in question. "My wife listens to smutty audiobooks while she drives. One accidentally started playing through her Bluetooth one day when I was in the car with her, and I've been hooked ever since." I choke on a laugh and he smiles in response. "Best friend's brother with a little forced proximity?" he says before kissing the tips of his fingers like a chef.

I can't help but laugh harder at the gesture, and he joins in just as we hear a loud crack , turning in time to watch the ball sail over the outfield and land in the bleachers behind the far wall. We both stand with our arms in the air and turn to high five one another in celebration. Every plan I had for wooing this guy flies out the window, because he's not like them . He's like me . He may have all the money in the world, but that's not what's important to him. You don't see that very often anymore, and I feel like we're kindred spirits up here in our empty row of seats.

We watch together for the next couple of innings before a young woman sticks her head out where we're sitting. "Mr. Durst, the men from the homeless shelter are settled in the luxury box down the hall. They've already met some of the alumni players, and they're just waiting on you now."

"Thank you, Alicia," he says, standing and brushing the crumbs off his expensive suit as he turns to me. "It was so nice meeting you, Monroe. We'll have to do it again soon."

"I'm looking forward to it," I reply with a smile before he ducks back into the suite, leaving me alone again. I watch as Riggs gets another three and out, cheering loudly in hopes that he can hear me. I'm pretty far away, so I doubt he can, but I try my best anyway.

The rest of the game flies by, and Taylor walks in just as I'm headed to find a trash can for all of my snack wrappers. "Hey!" she says excitedly. "Your boyfriend just pitched one of the best games of his career, and I'm here to bring you down to see him."

I swallow thickly as the butterflies return, flapping around like lovesick morons at the thought of him. I toss my garbage and follow her out to the elevator.

Minutes later, I'm perched outside a steel black door by myself, waiting for someone to tell me where to go next. Taylor got a call that pulled her away, but she told me to stay put while she took care of business.

Several people exit, and I nod, smiling at each of them as they walk past me. It feels like hours have gone by, even though I know it's probably only been about twenty minutes, before Riggs walks out. As soon as he sees me, his face splits into an ear-to-ear grin, and he runs toward me. His excitement is contagious, causing me to giggle loudly as he wraps his arms around me and lifts me off my feet.

"I think you're my good luck charm, Mayhem," he laughs. "I haven't come that close to a no-hitter since my rookie year!" He sets me back down but doesn't let go as we stare into each other's eyes.

"I want to kiss you right now," he says quietly, and my heart speeds up behind my rib cage.

"Is it against the rules to kiss your girlfriend in this hallway?" I whisper softly.

The corner of his mouth turns up in a knowing smile. "I don't think so."

"Okay," I breathe, and his lips are on mine before I can even form another thought. It starts soft, and I wonder for a moment if he's really just putting on a show for anyone who might walk out, but when he backs me into the brick wall, pressing his body tightly to mine, I know that this is just for us.

I moan quietly as he lowers down, licking and sucking at the sensitive skin of my neck while he grinds his hardening cock into my stomach. My clit throbs at the contact, and I'm glad we're in public because I wouldn't be able to stop myself from begging him to fuck me if I knew we wouldn't get caught. His hand slides up my body, cupping the underside of my breast, and a deep growl leaves his throat as he squeezes firmly. The contact has me leaking into my panties, lifting my leg around him in an attempt to get some friction.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," a voice says from down the hall, causing Riggs to jolt away from me. We turn to see Taylor shielding her eyes as she turns her body away from us. "I didn't mean to interrupt your celebration, guys," she laughs. "I just wanted to make sure you found each other. I'll be going now," she rushes out, shuffling quickly in the other direction. As soon as she's out of sight, we both sag in relief, then burst out laughing.

"Mayhem is the perfect nickname for you," he quips, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and leading me down the hall. "You've got me acting crazy out here."