She stands at her dresser, surveying her reflection in a tall mirror and lining her lips with a pencil, then filling in her lipstick. She’s wearing a nude lip today, which I like for its natural look. She’s always a knockout, but never more so than after I’ve kissed her lipstick off. It gives me a sense of pride whenever she’s wearing no makeup. Because it is for me and me alone. She reminds me of that today. I need that reminder more than I ever thought possible.
As I button a clean shirt, I notice that Serena has one painting hanging on the wall, featuring a bird in a gilded cage. Wonder what the meaning of that is.
By the time she darts out of her walk-in closet with heels so high I wonder how she doesn’t topple over, she gapes at me. “You’re wearing a suit. Not just any suit, a Tom Ford Windsor—charcoal. And you look to-die-for handsome.”
“Try not to sound so surprised.” My throaty chuckle snaps Serena out of her fashion-designer-induced haze.
“Of course you look drop-dead handsome. You do in everything you wear. I just…I mean, I didn’t expect you to try to impress my family. You rushed here from the stadium, after all. How’d you find the time?”
The fact that she used the term drop-dead handsome makes me stand a little straighter, makes me proud beyond anything I can explain. “First of all, I’m always prepared. Second, and most importantly, your parents have summoned you to discuss salacious gossip surrounding our relationship. That calls for a suit.” Adjusting my sleeves, I agree that I clean up pretty good.
Serena adjusts the knot at my neck. “I have to admit you are rocking the whole Fifty Shades thing, but you don’t need to do this. I—”
“Shush.” I roll one of her curls between my fingers, trying to be as tactful as possible. People like Serena’s parents have looked down on me my whole life and I refuse to give them ammunition. I have the money to afford expensive suits and I’m prepared to show them that I don’t want or need their money or influence. This suit and tie mean power. Mine. Serena’s. I’m serious, but I don’t want to worry her, so I merely say with a shrug, “I’m meeting your parents. You look like a knockout. Why can’t I?”
“You can. You do.” Slowly, deliberately, she tugs my tie toward her, my chest settling against hers as she whispers, “Just know that I will enjoy taking this off you later. Think of that when you meet my parents.”
She grabs her purse and exits the room with a wicked chuckle. “We’re officially running late,” Serena calls from the stairs, and I’m quick on her heels.
With her hand on her brass front doorknob, she pauses. “This dress is hiding the fact that I’m rocking a very sexy thong today. I would have gone commando, your personal favorite, but we are meeting with my parents, after all. I need to show some modicum of respect.” She places her free hand over my shoulder. “Though I may be going the discreet route, it does slide off easily.”
I’m salivating at the thought. Seriously. The car has privacy glass. I begin to weigh just how tasteless it would be to remove her thong on the way to her parents’ place. On a scale of one being not at all and ten being completely out of the question, that would be in the one hundred range. But, with her intoxicating perfume filling my senses, all I can think about are her round, supple ass cheeks.
Nipping my earlobe with her teeth, she adds, “Since you’re entering the lion’s den, I thought I should give you a reward to look forward to. Oh, I may be wearing more of a G-string than a thong. I dare you to find out.”
“Holy fuck.” My words are more of a throaty, painful murmur. I think that was her desired effect as she slides her sunglasses on her nose. Meanwhile, my blood has raced straight to my cock. Fuck, I’m meeting her parents, for God’s sake. This isn’t the time to get hard for her.
We descend her front steps. Innocent enough, yet all I can do is stare at her ass, imagining her bare cheeks as my fingers itch to cop a feel. This is naughty schoolboy stuff. Not the thing I should be thinking as I am about to meet her pretentious parents. I feel like a nun should slam my knuckles with a ruler.
As Serena slides into the car, she thanks the driver. Though he’s wearing shades, I see him glance at her tits. She’s wearing a halter dress, with a high waistband, and isn’t flashing her assets. Still, they look spectacular. She is spectacular. Even more so since I know she’s wearing next to nothing underneath. There’s something dirty and completely invigorating about this.
I give the driver a look. One that conveys she’s mine. He averts his eyes immediately. Yeah, my girlfriend is a knockout, and the pride I feel that Serena is with me is nothing like I’ve ever experienced.
Once the car door closes, I take her hand. “You look…you rob me of breath. You know that, right?”
“You do the same to me.” She leans forward and raises the privacy glass before returning to my side. “Now, to the business at hand: neither of us will impress my parents. You must realize that.”
“I do. This isn’t about impressing them; this is about power. Your parents will expect me to be a thug. They will never dream of me showing up in a suit that costs more than most people spend on a car. It will send them reeling, which is what we want. The element of surprise, with some control mixed in for good measure.”
“You’re strategic.” She slides her sunglasses down her nose, studying me through narrowed eyes.
“You’re right. I am strategic. Hockey is athletic to be sure, but to play it well, you need to utilize analytical skills. That’s what makes me so good at what I do on the ice.” It’s also what earns the pro-circuit poker players millions. That’s what my dad was never able to understand; it’s why he always needs money, because he loses more than he wins. Much more. He isn’t strategic in the least. This reminds me that I never did call him back. He hasn’t tried me again, either. He mustn’t want the cash that bad.
“You okay?” she asks, tossing her sunglasses on the seat beside her.
The last thing I want to do is mention my dad, when we have her parents to contend with. “I’m with you. That makes me great.”
She wraps her arms around my neck. I’ve grown accustomed to the way her curves meld against my frame. Nuzzling her neck, the scent of her hair and perfume fills my senses, somehow making me feel both comfortable and excited at the same time. It’s the same perfume from our date at my rink. My favorite. She’s worn it ever since and I wonder if she knows how much I love that scent, the reminder of that night.
“If I’m holding you too tight it’s because I can’t believe you’re real.” Her statement is spoken in a raspy murmur.
I encircle my arms around her, caressing her bare back with my thumb. My rapid heartbeat pounds against my chest. With each beat, I count the seconds that I hold her, refusing to let go. I don’t want to. Though I have no idea where I fit in her life, I know where she fits in mine…in my arms. Sucking in a quick breath, I hold it. Willing the panic to subside. The weight of what I feel for her is overwhelming me.
After a long pause, she adds, “No man has ever strategized for me before, let alone entered the lions’ den to battle beside me.”
The realization sends me reeling. From the jackass who ruined her sixteenth birthday to her dad, no man has fought for her. Until me. I’m the guy who will. God knows, I’ve brawled before. On the ice and off. But never for a better reason than to protect Serena.
I’m the guy who is man enough to see this woman for who and what she really is: sassy, funny, intuitive. I embrace her every curve, every sarcastic statement, everything that makes Serena who she is. “I will fight beside you now, and for as long as you let me.”
My own words, the tone of my own voice, sound foreign to me. Filled with an emotion I’ve refused to feel. It means one thing: I’m falling hard for this woman in my arms. For the first time in my life. It’s a monumental, life-altering realization, and it is happening in the back of a car while veering in and out of traffic
lanes. This moment is one that will define my future. My rapid pulse and the humming in my ears tells me so. Monumental. I’m in trouble.
The car stops at the curb in front of a swanky skyscraper. The driver interrupts through the intercom by announcing that we’ve arrived at our destination.
Serena asks him to give us a moment, leaning back until her gaze locks with mine. Her baby blues brim with an insecurity that isn’t like her at all.
I link my fingers through hers, a silent show of support. Sure, she’s strong and sassy. She’s also tough, because she has no choice. I know what that’s like, and it hurts like hell. “Neither one of us wants your parents’ approval. We don’t need it. I want you to be proud of us. That’s it.”
“You didn’t need a tie or an expensive suit for that. I already am.” She smiles. That same confident smile I’ve grown to love. Love. Do I honestly think I’m falling? My conscience is screaming that I’ve already taken the leap headfirst, but maybe it’s simpler than that. Maybe I want more…more than I have from anyone else. That’s right. Remove love from the equation, keep it simple, and my pulse returns to normal. I want more…of whatever this is that we share. No tag, no word to define it. I just want more.
Her smile is the only approval I need as the driver opens the passenger door, and I tighten my grip on Serena’s hand. It’s an extension of my own as the doorman opens the opulent gilded doors and we ride the elevator to the penthouse.
“Just remember, they’re not me.” Serena exhales, worry lines etched on her forehead.
I kiss them. “I know.” I do. I feel it. I believe it, as I wrap my arms around her waist and tug her close against me. The elevator quietly hums, lulling us into the false sense that we’re the only two people in the world. A woman shrieking as the doors open dispels that notion and causes both me and Serena to jump.
“Serena, darlin’, let me meet your hottie!” A woman with blond curls, a thick Southern drawl, and a colorful floral dress incorporating all the shades of the rainbow greets us with a wide smile.
After hugging Serena, she embraces me. “Nice to meet you, sweetie. Welcome to hell. Now grab a drink. It’s the only way this will be tolerable. Trust me, I speak from experience.”
“Chris, this is my grandmother, Savannah Ellis.” Serena leans her head against my shoulder.
I smile at her grandmother. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’ve heard wonderful things about you.”
“Call me Savannah, darlin’. We’re going to be fast friends.” She winks, then takes a sip of something with a sprig of mint floating in it. Savannah gags and turns to a dour auburn-haired woman wearing a silk blouse, trousers with an impeccably straight crease down the front, a pearl necklace, and matching earrings. “Kathryn, why can’t your staff learn how to make a proper mint julep?”
“Because that is the most disgusting cocktail never to grace Manhattan. Besides, my staff has more important duties to perform.” The woman, Kathryn, is Serena’s mom. I’d recognize her even if I hadn’t already used a search engine to research her. It’s obvious who she is by the disdain emanating from her posture as she walks forward. Slowly, methodically, studying me from head to toe. She then turns to her daughter. “Hello, Serena. I thought we said no—”
“Mother, this is Christian Chase. I told you to expect him.” Serena meets her mother’s scowl with a smile, though it never meets her eyes.
Neither woman breaks their staring match. It’s intense. Until Serena’s mother looks away.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Ellis.” I offer her my hand.
Her handshake is limp and her fingers are cold. Fits her personality. Talk about first impressions. Serena definitely takes after her grandmother. Isn’t this fun? Nope. And since my inner sarcasm can’t save me, I suppose it’s time to meet Daddy Ellis, who, based upon articles and Serena’s own admissions, rules his world with an iron fist.
I recognize Harrison Ellis from his photo on ESPN. He stands across the room, waiting for us to come to him, in his pristine suit and gold cuff links. There’s a look of surprise on his face as he surveys my suit, tie, and my own onyx cuff links. I caught him off guard. Just as I had planned. Yes, I know his type.
He’s the kind of man who says things like I ought to invite you to my beach house just to see how eagerly someone will react to his non-invitation. Men like this never intend to actually invite you. It’s to test who is beneath them, to see who bites at their scraps. I refuse to allow people like him to have power over me. No, I will never bow to him. Instead, Serena and I hold our ground, speaking to her grandmother.
“My son, Harrison, is over there. Harrison, come and meet Serena’s boyfriend.” Savannah motions to her son.
Boyfriend. That’s a polite word for what Serena and I share. Somehow, I like it. Boyfriend. It holds the promise of something deeper, something I am suddenly ready for. At least with Serena. No one else. Just her.
With a reluctant sigh, Mr. Ellis approaches us. I shake his hand, noting the pale skin around his eyes. From sunglasses, no doubt. I bet he golfs. At some swanky country club with other elite movers and shakers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ellis.”
“We should invite you for dinner sometime. When my schedule clears.” There’s the bait. Unfortunately for him, I’m no one’s guppy.
With a nod, I keep my tone cool and detached. “It may be difficult to find a time that works for us. Between Serena’s launch, my career, and yours…”
My words trail off. I mean to leave him hanging. His eyes widen in surprise. In my world, this would be seen as an alpha declaring dominance. I’m the alpha. Welcome to the lifestyles of the rich and famous, Chris. Way to make friends.
Serena acknowledges her father with a mere nod, then tugs my hand. “Join me in a sparkling water?” Leading me to the bar, she uses tongs that I’m certain are platinum to put ice in two crystal glasses and pours from a decanter. She raises her glass to me, then leans into my ear and whispers in a hushed tone I can barely hear, “You handled him like a pro. I am so turned on right now.”
“Really?” I raise my brow. If being alpha turns her on, I need to do more of it. Lots more. “We need to discuss what else turns you on. I mean, in addition to what I already know.”
She licks her lips and takes a sip from her glass. The wicked glint in her eyes is all I need. She’s game. So am I. Now, if we could get out of this damn penthouse, I could turn her on and then some.
“Pardon my interruption, Serena.” A man with blond hair places his hand on Serena’s shoulder and she jerks out of his reach.
“I thought this was a family meeting.” Her demeanor is guarded, her tone lethal.
“I’m your father’s right-hand man. What affects the Ellis Corporation affects all of us.” He studies me, sizing me up, as he holds his hand outstretched, waiting for me to shake it. Based upon Serena’s reaction, I don’t take his hand, choosing instead to stand straight and stare him down. He’s several inches shorter than me. I know that bothers him when he shifts, leaning forward on his toes, rocking back and forth.
“Christian Chase, meet Evan Asshole—” Serena’s eyes widen, and she turns toward me with an exaggerated grimace. “I mean Evan Thurman. We knew each other when I was sixteen.”
Sixteen…Asshole. This is the son of a bitch who used her for some stupid bet. Sliding my palm around her waist, I nod at him. No niceties, not for him. His fucking hand can fall off before I ever accept it.
As if oblivious to being called an asshole, Evan addresses me. “No doubt you heard about me. I taught her to kiss.”
“You can’t be serious.” Disgust drips from Serena’s every word. “You really have earned your nickname, haven’t you?”
Serena takes a step forward, as if she might punch the bastard. She isn’t the only one. No, I’m itching to punch the smirk off of his smug fucking face. Which I’m certain is what
he wants. Splaying my palms on Serena’s waist, I stop her from playing into Evan’s hands. Instead, she leans against me as I kiss her hair and whisper loud enough for Asshole to hear, “You never told him?” My tone is one of mock severity.
“Never, though there have been times I’ve been severely tempted—like now,” she plays along. She trusts me. That same trust I wanted to earn is now mine. That knowledge makes me invincible. Asshole doesn’t stand a chance.
With a curt nod, I offer him a condescending grin. “I can see why you wouldn’t want to bruise his ego, but he should know.”
Creases line Asshole’s eyes. “Tell me what?” His tone is higher than before. It’s killing him to be mocked. Good. He deserves that and then some.
Serena places her hands atop mine. “Why don’t you tell him? Man to man—or man to ass. Whatever the case may be.”
We’ve gotten the attention of her parents now. They’re staring, but quiet. Her mother’s face is crestfallen, as if she realizes what is being insinuated, and she’s surprised. Her father, however, shows no such signs of shock. He knew what Evan did to his daughter and still hired the son of a bitch. These people are toxic.
My goal, my only goal, is to make sure they know I’ll protect Serena from them. Starting with Asshole.
“You weren’t her first kiss and you didn’t teach her a goddamn thing.” I shrug as Asshole coughs. That’s one less thing he can hold over Serena. I tip her head up and claim her lips. It’s a modest kiss—hell, it’s damn near chaste, for us, out of respect for her family. It also serves a purpose: to make sure Asshole knows that he’s not her last kiss. No, that would be me. And I’m her best one yet. Take that, preppie boy.
Serena’s nails run lightly through my beard as she pulls away, then whispers, “You ready for the fireworks?”
“Bring on the turkey,” I mutter, eyes glued to Evan, who is staring at us. When caught, he averts his eyes. I bet Serena never caressed him like she just did me. I would also wager that he realizes what he missed out on. Just as I intended.
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