Once Upon a Power Play

by Jennifer Bonds

  Unlocking the phone, she scrolled to Olivia’s texts first. There were three of them. All sent back to back. Definitely not good.

  Call me.

  Have you seen Page Six?

  Are you okay? CALL ME!

  Heart racing and hands shaking, she gripped the edge of the desk, using it for support as she rose to her feet. She needed The Post. Like, now. There would be a copy in reception, assuming no one had taken off with it already. Walking down the aisle, she felt dozens of eyes following her every move. The whispers were even less subtle. Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her chin. Stupid cubicle farm. When she stepped into the reception area, the girl behind the desk said nothing and handed her a copy of the paper, a look of pity in her eyes. Tucking the paper under her arm, she returned to her cube, refusing to acknowledge the whispers that trailed her every step.

  Chloe spread the paper on her desk. How bad could it really be? She was probably overreacting. Getting herself worked up over nothing. Her heart slammed against her rib cage, refusing to indulge her with even a moment of wishful thinking. Relaxing her breathing, she flipped to Page Six.

  And right there in black and white were two pictures of Ryan. One of him kissing her at midnight on New Year’s Eve. They looked so happy. So in love. So perfect. She touched his face, dragging her fingers to the next picture, the one that shredded her heart and punched a hole in her soul. A hole she was sure could never be mended. Ryan holding Kelsey on New Year’s Eve. Her hands were fisted in his jacket, his bowtie askew, their mouths just a breath apart, as if they were about to kiss. Chloe’s stomach dropped. Anger blazed through her as she read the headline. Douglas headed to the penalty box?

  Forcing herself to read the article, she skimmed the highlights, each one like a knife planted deep between her shoulder blades. “Looks like New York Ranger Ryan Douglas is playing more than hockey…” Tears welled up behind her eyes. She would not cry. Not here. “Chloe Jacobs is yesterday’s news…” She wanted to throw up. Just not in the trashcan. “Sources close to Kelsey Cruise, Douglas’s longtime girlfriend, say she and Douglas are committed to working through their differences…” This could not be happening. Humiliation stung her cheeks. She needed to get out of there. Fast.

  Arms wrapped around herself, Chloe hightailed it to the elevator. When she reached the ground floor and stepped out onto Madison Avenue, it was clear she wouldn’t be suffering the latest indignity of her love life in private. The paps descended like vultures, snapping pictures and peppering her with invasive and provocative questions.

  “Chloe, did you and Ryan have an open relationship?”

  “Are you going to fight for your man?”

  “Did you know he was reconciling with Kelsey Cruise?”

  A tall, greasy looking man stepped in front of her, thrusting a microphone in her face. “Now that Ryan’s done slumming, how do you feel about being used?”

  Anger coursed through her veins. She closed her fist, tensing to strike. No one would blame her if she throttled the guy. But that was the point wasn’t it? To get her acting out on video. To have her make headlines of her own. To fuel the fire. It was a desperate attempt to get a sound bite. Her brain told her as much, but that didn’t make it any less painful. Biting her tongue, she stuffed her fists in her pockets and prayed she could hold the tears back long enough to throw herself into a cab.

  Tucked in the back of a Yellow Cab and crawling across town at a snail’s pace, she dialed Liv. Thankfully, she answered on the first ring.

  “Where are you?” she demanded, her words filled with concern. “Are you okay?”

  “Cab. I don’t know.” Chloe slouched against the seat, the morning’s rollercoaster of events taking its toll on her. She sniffed, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes, not giving a damn whether her waterproof mascara held up. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “Maybe it’s not what it looks like?” Liv suggested, sounding doubtful. Not that Chloe didn’t appreciate her attempt at positivity, but this was the real world and not some stupid rom-com. She wasn’t his—or anyone else’s—exception. It was that kind of thinking that got her into this mess in the first place.

  “Come on, Liv. It’s exactly what it looks like. Pictures don’t lie.” A bitter laugh tumbled from her lips. “I’m such a fool. I knew this would happen. I knew it. And like a fool, I just kept falling, letting myself get swept up in his stupid life. In his lies. What was I thinking? Why would he ever stay with me when he can have any woman he wants?”

  “Maybe you should talk to him, hear his side of things,” Olivia suggested. “But I’m telling you right now, if he did this, then he doesn’t deserve you. Hell, he doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air you do.”

  “Says the best friend on cue.” Chloe closed her eyes. Was this all her life would be? Good enough for a fling, but never a ring?

  “I’m coming over. I’ll meet you at your place.”

  “No,” Chloe said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I just want to be alone. Please, just leave me alone.”

  Ryan pulled his practice jersey over his head, anxious to hit the ice. The doc had given him a wicked stretch and he was feeling pretty damn good. Maybe he really was turning the corner in his recovery. With the holidays behind them and more than forty games remaining in the regular season, the team’s focus was on securing a playoff berth. Hell, he could hardly believe he’d be part of it given the way he’d started the season.

  He glanced up as the locker room door opened. Bash. And he did not look happy. Ryan had only seen that look once before, during their college days when Bash’s parents had announced their divorce. “Hey, man. Everything okay?”

  Bash narrowed his gaze at Ryan and charged. For a big guy, he moved fast, covering the space between them in two quick strides. Pinned between the lockers and the bench, Ryan was trapped. A feral growl roared in his ears as Bash’s meaty hands grabbed the front of his jersey and slammed him against the lockers. His back smashed against the metal, his head bouncing off the smooth surface.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” he yelled, bringing his arms up between Bash’s to try and drive the bigger man’s arms apart. No dice. Bash had a death grip on the damn jersey.

  “Why’d you do it?” Bash yelled, his dark eyes brimming with anger. That same anger seemed to permeate his body, each of his limbs fraught with tension. “Why the fuck did you do it, man?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lowering his voice in an attempt to deescalate the situation, he dropped his arms, hoping like hell his teammate wouldn’t take a shot at him. He’d made it this far with all his teeth intact, and he preferred to keep it that way.

  “Kelsey,” Bash said, slamming Ryan’s body against the lockers as if to emphasize his point.

  Ryan sighed. Of course. What the fuck had she done now? “Like I said, I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re going to have to clue me in.”

  “I love her.” Bash’s voice dropped to a whisper as the fight left his body. “I fucking love her.”

  Taking advantage of his relaxed posture, Jordy and Bischoff jumped in, grabbing Bash’s arms and pulling him free of Ryan. Watching Bash with a wary eye, Ryan rotated his shoulder and adjusted his jersey. Apparently the only thing hurt was his pride. Bash dropped to the bench, looking defeated. Finally, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a rolled up newspaper. He threw it at Ryan, a disgusted look carved on his face.

  The locker room was deathly quiet, the other players watching them, waiting to see how the fight would play out. Ryan cut his eyes at Jordy, who was poised to jump back in if needed. Confident he wouldn’t get sucker punched, he unrolled the paper. Page-fucking-Six. It was starting to be a real pain in his ass. And it was starting to feel like someone over there had a hard-on for the Rangers. They couldn’t catch a break. His gut clenched when he saw his own face staring back at him. Two pictures. Two women. One night. He didn’t need to read the article to know what it sa
id. Or what Bash thought. What Chloe would think.

  Chloe.

  A new feeling blossomed in his gut. Fear.

  “FUCK,” he roared, balling the paper up and throwing it at the wall. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Molten lava flowed through his veins, searing a path from his gut to his head, burning up all rational thought. Overwhelmed by the intensity of his feelings, and fighting for control, his body vibrated with energy. Not good. His head was going to fucking explode if he didn’t find a physical outlet for his rage. Fast. He drew back his fist and let it fly, punching his locker and denting the door. Pain shot up his arm. It paled in comparison to the ache in his chest.

  Maybe Chloe hadn’t seen the article yet. Maybe he could do damage control. If he got to her first, she’d understand. He’d make her understand. Grabbing his bag, he dug out his phone. It was his own fault, he realized, as he punched in the access code. He should’ve just told her about Kelsey’s stupid behavior on New Year’s Eve. He should’ve been honest with Chloe and Bash, but he hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone. And look how well that had turned out. Odds were they both hated his guts right now. His heart sank as he scanned his phone. The story was all over the web. There was no way Chloe hadn’t seen it yet. After all, she was a social media guru. She lived and breathed this stuff.

  Disgusted, he threw the phone back in the bag and turned to Bash. “It’s bullshit,” he said, looking his friend in the eye. “There is nothing going on between me and Kelsey. She had too much to drink New Year’s Eve and made a pass at me. I told her to take a walk. She tripped, I caught her. End of story.”

  “Apparently not.” Bash shook his head and scrubbed his hands over his face. “You really expect me to believe that?”

  Ryan shrugged. It was the truth, and it was all he had to offer. Pointing out that Kelsey had set him up with zero consideration for Bash’s feelings wasn’t going to help. She’d already screwed him over ten ways to Sunday. No need to rub salt in the wound. Hell, she’d screwed them all over. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this, but I promise you there is nothing going on between us. And there never will be. I love Chloe.”

  Shit.

  He loved Chloe.

  And she would probably never speak to him again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ryan climbed the stairs to Chloe’s apartment, willing her to be home. It was the first time he’d been back in the city since that damn article had run on Page Six. The team had gone straight from the Tarrytown practice facility on a road series, and she’d been ignoring his calls and texts for days. He was worried about her. Really worried. In fact, she hadn’t responded to a single message. Not one. Not to ask if it was true. Not to tell him to stay away. Not even to call him a son-of-a-bitching-no-good-lying-rat-bastard-piece-of-shit-cheater or whatever colorful name she could come up with. Her silence was worse. More painful, somehow. As if it carried an echo of finality.

  Final his ass. He wouldn’t accept it. Couldn’t. He’d talk to her—make her see reason. The alternative had his gut twisted in anxious knots.

  Stopping in front of her door, he wiped his palms on his jeans and drew a deep breath. He needed to center himself, just as he did before a game. One way or another, she was going to talk to him. Even if it meant he had to sit in front of her damn door all night.

  He knocked.

  No answer.

  He knocked again.

  This time he heard footsteps beyond the door. She was definitely home. Whether or not she would willingly answer was an entirely different question. “Chloe, please open the door. I know you’re home.”

  Nothing.

  Time for the bold approach. “I’ve got all night and I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

  “Go away.” Her reply was muffled, but he was willing to bet she was just on the other side of the door.

  “Not happening.” Mere inches separated them, but it felt like miles. He needed her to see her. Needed to see her beautiful face, to look into her eyes. Then maybe she’d know the truth of his words. “Like I said, I’ve got all night. I hope your neighbors don’t mind.” He paused, letting her contemplate the prospect of him camping in her hallway. “Fair warning, I’ve been known to sing to pass the time. Loudly.”

  There was a thunk on the other side of the door, as though she’d banged her head against it in resignation. He wasn’t exactly looking for resignation, but if it got her to open up, he’d take it.

  Thwack!

  Ryan’s pulse quickened at the sound of the lock being disengaged. When she finally opened the door, his heart stopped. His girl—the gorgeous, spunky, fearless woman he’d come to cherish—was nowhere to be seen. In her place stood a woman who looked lifeless, defeated, and utterly dejected. She’d been crying. Even without the tear tracks, he’d have seen it in her puffy, red-rimmed eyes. He’d done that to her. To the woman he loved. And it broke his heart.

  When he reached for her, she jerked away, her body stiffening. The wide-necked sweatshirt she wore slid off her shoulder, revealing the smooth, silky skin he’d kissed so many times before.

  “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

  Withdrawing the offending hand, he shoved his fists in the pockets of his jeans. The eyes he’d expected to flash with anger were flat, closed off to emotion. Closed to him. He couldn’t read her. She’d lost more than her usual sparkle. Gone were the larger than life emotions she typically wore on her sleeve. He’d been prepared for pissed off, screaming, even for a kick in the nuts if she felt so inclined. But he hadn’t been prepared for this. Not in the least. Unsure of what to say, he decided to start with the obvious.

  “We need to talk.”

  She just stared at him with that goddamned blank look, arms crossed over her chest. Shit. Not even an eye roll? He was so screwed.

  “What you saw on Page Six, it wasn’t—” He growled in frustration, feeling like a damn heathen as he stood before her, wanting nothing more than to toss her pert little behind over his shoulder and lock her in the apartment. At least until he could make her see it his way. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

  The brittle laugh that spilled from her lips set his teeth on edge. “Really? All this time to think and that’s the best you could come up with? How original.”

  “It’s the truth,” he said, removing his hat and tucking it in his back pocket. He raked a hand through his hair. “And if you’d answered my calls, I’d have told you days ago. Maybe saved us both a little heartache.”

  “Oh, no you don’t,” she said, jabbing him in the chest with her pointer finger. Suddenly those flat eyes were alive, a raging inferno burning bright. “You do not get to pretend like this is hurting you, too, like you actually give a damn. You did this.” She poked him in the chest again. “And you know what the worst part is? I let you. I was actually stupid enough to believe it when you said you wanted me to be your girl. That you wanted the world to know.” She shook her head, a look of disgust contorting her face. “Why’d you do it, Ryan? Why ask me to be your girl if you were getting back together with Kelsey?”

  “I am not getting back together with Kelsey. Ever.” Did she really believe that? After everything he’d told her?

  “Oh, you were just sucking her brains out through her mouth then? Is that supposed to make me feel better?” She snorted. “You know, the least you could have done was told me yourself, instead of making me into some pathetic fucking club joke. Do you have any idea what they’re saying about me online? What kinds of messages I’m getting? It’s a total shit show. But I guess you don’t give a damn, right? You had your fun, and now you get to move on with your perfect goddamned Barbie doll and your perfect goddamned life.”

  “I did not kiss Kelsey, and I sure as hell am not getting back together with her,” he bellowed, stuffing his hands back in his pockets. Otherwise he might’ve grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to shake some damn sense into her. She couldn’t seriously believe he’d wanted any of this? That he’d orchestrated it? After everything they’d been
through together, didn’t she know him better than that? Didn’t she know him at all?

  Determined to explain himself, he forged ahead like a bull in a china shop. “Kelsey set me up. She tried to kiss me, and I didn’t let her. I told her I was with you—that we were happy. That picture? What you saw in the paper? She tripped. The only thing I did for Kelsey was keep her from face planting on the carpet. And believe me, if I could take back those three seconds of chivalry, I sure as hell would’ve let her bite it.”

  Chloe pursed her lips. “So you didn’t kiss her?”

  “No,” he said, stepping closer, sensing her resolve melting. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  “But she tried to kiss you?”

  He paused. Where was she going with this? He had the distinct feeling he was about to step on a landmine, but seeing no other option, he answered truthfully. “Yes. This whole thing is some sick, twisted attempt to, I don’t know, salvage our failed relationship. That’s why I didn’t tell you about it in the first place. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  Tossing her head back, she laughed that empty, soul-slicing laugh again. “Are you really such a self-serving jackass? You didn’t want to hurt me? So you lied to me instead? Let me find out the truth from Page Six? How’s that working out for you, Ryan?” She shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I can’t believe I ever trusted you. You can take all your bullshit and shove it up your five hole, Ryan.”

  “Chloe—”

  “You need to leave.” Her voice took on that hard edge again. She moved to close the door. Shit. He kept saying the wrong things, making it worse. Maybe he wasn’t explaining it right. There had to be a way to fix it.

  “I’m not going anywhere until we figure this out,” he said, wedging his toe in the door and holding his ground. No way was he leaving things like this. Hell, it was worse than he could have imagined. She’d only just agreed to date him, and now she was ready to turn tail and run? With every fiber of his being he wanted to tell her he loved her, but he wouldn’t cheapen the sentiment like that. The first time she heard those words? It wouldn’t be him using them as leverage to right a wrong. It would be special, not some last ditch effort to save their terminal relationship. He just hoped he’d see that day.