Jade's Match, the Jewel Series Book 7

by Hallee Bridgeman

  “….The Last of the Mohicans,” Cora finished his sentence as the elevator arrived. Their eyes met. “How did you know that?”

  “It was a childhood favorite,” he explained.

  “Yeah,” she nodded. “For me, too. Kind of a big one in my memory, actually.”

  They stepped into the glass elevator that would take them straight to the top floor. The silence stretched, and she didn’t feel like talking about how that novel had affected her adolescence with him just yet, so she asked, “How’s your room?”

  He thought about the one-bedroom suite with the full living room, fireplace, and kitchen. In the bathroom, he’d found thick white bathrobes with the Viscolli crest on them, expensive bubble baths and oils, and a drawer full of amenities. “Rather luxurious. I can’t imagine what it’s costing VelTech.”

  She tilted her head in a question. “Costing?”

  “Yeah. I’m in a penthouse suite. That wouldn’t come even kind of cheap in this hotel. Probably pay each night what I pay in rent for a month.”

  Cora smiled. “You know, don’t you, that Tony Viscolli is my uncle.”

  His eyes widened and the business mogul on the cover of last month’s Smart Money Magazine crossed his mind. “Wait. Wait.” He looked out of the elevator window, at the gleaming marble and shiny brass coated luxury then back at her. “Your uncle is Tony Viscolli, of Viscolli Enterprises?”

  “Yes.” She frowned. “Didn’t you know that?”

  “No.” He held up a hand, palm out. “How would I have known that? Your last name is Anderson, and your mother is not Italian, she’s American Indian, right?”

  “Personally, I have no objection to that description. Some would insist on Native American instead. And mom’s only half.” Cora had been called a lot of names growing up. The little girls who called her Pocahontas for all of fourth grade came to mind.

  “So, how are you related to Tony Viscolli?”

  “My mom’s older sister, Robin, is his wife. My aunt. He’s my uncle. His children are my first cousins.” She waved a hand in the general direction of the lobby gradually growing smaller below them. “But that doesn’t have much of anything to do with me, other than free hotel stays and really amazing restaurants. Well, and my dad is his attorney, and my mom worked with the vPhone people on my marketing.”

  “The vPhone people?” Mind spinning, he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and held it up, logo toward her. “This vPhone?”

  “Yes, Davis.” She spoke slowly as if explaining to a child. “Viscolli Electronics Technologies. VelTech. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Davis closed his eyes and rubbed his eyebrow. Suddenly, the movement of the elevator gave him a touch of vertigo. “I just need to digest that.” His mind swirled with the news. Out of nowhere, he felt even further outclassed, outmaneuvered. How did he not know this information? He’d researched her, but only on the surface. Nothing she’d ever put out publicly suggested her familial connection to the vPhones and VelTech. But, he couldn’t fault her for that, could he? It’s not like she hid it. She appeared surprised that he hadn’t known. Deciding to put it aside for now, he let out a deep breath then opened his eyes and smiled. “Ready to eat?”

  With a stoic expression, she raised an eyebrow and dryly asked, “All digested?”

  “Yes, sorry.” He cleared his suddenly dry throat. “It just took me by surprise. I’m sorry.”

  “No reason for sorry. That kind of reaction is why I typically don’t talk about Uncle Tony.”

  His cheeks fused with heat and he held out his hand. “Well, then I really am sorry. I hate being typical.” They stopped on the top floor and stepped out into the restaurant lobby. Holding hands, they walked to the maître d’ stand.

  The gentleman in the tuxedo looked up from the book on his stand and his eyes slightly widened. “Mr. Elliott, Miss Anderson, what a pleasure. Please, follow me. I have your table ready.”

  Davis felt a little glow of warmth at the thought of being recognized without having to speak. He put a hand on Cora’s lower back as they worked through the restaurant and stopped at a table for two next to the windows. Amidst the rich, panoramic view, he could see the lights of the Empire State Building against the night sky. The maître d’ pulled out both of their chairs and dressed their flatware for them.

  “Thank you,” he said to the maître d’ as he sat down. He glanced at the menu, then looked over it to see Cora intently reading it. A smile crossed his face when it occurred to him that she was very publicly his date, whether he was outclassed or not.

  She looked at him over her menu and a puzzled look crossed her face. “You’re smiling. What is it? Why are you smiling?”

  Without hesitation, he replied with total honesty. “Because you’re beautiful, charming, and quite wonderful, and I get to be the one to sit across from you tonight.”

  He watched color flood her cheeks and was genuinely happy that his words affected her like that. She set her menu down and took a drink of water. “Thank you,” she said softly, looking at him with her striking green eyes. “Davis, I wish we could go back to the beginning and start off on a better foot.”

  “Can’t go back,” he said, looking her in the eye, “but we can continue forward.”

  “Forward then,” she said, picking her menu back up. She set it down quickly. “I forgot to take a picture! Silly.”

  She pulled her phone out of her bag and pushed away from the table, walking around to his side. He stood, too. “Let’s get the view behind us,” he said, holding an arm out.

  As she scooted against him, he pulled her closer and for a moment just relished the feel of her body against his. She held her phone up with the camera on. Before he could turn his head toward her, she surprised him by pressing her lips to his cheek. He could see the happy look on his face reflected in the camera, and the happy, playful expression on hers. As she pulled her head back, he kept his arm around her waist and looked at her. “I could get used to that,” he said softly.

  She stepped away as she said, “Maybe you should.”

  Those words made his breath catch. Did she mean…? What if she only meant the campaign? He’d best not get his hopes up.

  After typing on her screen, she showed him the picture and the caption.

  Did someone turn up the heat? #TeamUSA #hockeyforthegold #datenight #NYC

  He held her chair out for her to sit down and sat back across from her. “Alluding to heat is supposed to be toning down the ‘hottie’?” Despite trying to be serious, he laughed. “Have you forgotten that I play hockey? On ice? Hot doesn’t really translate to hockey.”

  Her green eyes sparkled with mirth. “You’ve just given me ideas for a dozen different captions. Thanks for that!”

  “Yeah. No problem. Don’t mention it.” He looked at the menu and picked out a cut of steak as the waiter approached.

  “Good evening. My name is Don and I’ll be your….” He looked at Cora and his eyes widened, then he quickly looked at Davis and his smile turned to a look of astonishment. “Wow! Jade and Davis! The golden couple. I am truly honored to be serving you tonight.”

  “We’re excited to be here.” Cora set her menu down and said, “Tell me, Don, what is your favorite thing on this menu?”

  He made a very slight bow. “Honestly, no one does a steak like the Viscolli New York. Seriously. We start with an entire side of top choice Grade A prime beef aged in ideal conditions for no less than twenty-one days. Every single cut is made by hand in our own kitchen and then seasoned and cooked to unquestionable perfection according to your specifications.”

  “Sold,” Davis said with a smile. “I’ll take a rib eye cooked medium, grilled vegetables, and the tomato bisque.”

  Cora nodded. “I’ll take the same, but with salad instead of soup. Caesar. And tea to drink. No sweetener.”

  “Got it. Let me know if you need anything at all. I’m happy to take your picture or have Chef Marcus prepare a special treat for the camera. I
know you two like to do things like that.” He picked up their menus. “I’ll bring today’s amuse-bouche between courses.” He cleared his throat. “Really. Honored. I meet all sorts here, but you’re the cream.”

  Davis smiled. “Thanks.” Don hesitated, then walked away. Davis looked at Cora. “Have your followers picked up since we started this romance, or leveled out?”

  She pursed her lips. “Seriously picked up. I guess romance does more than beach volleyball.” She leaned forward. “And I had a lot of followers before. Like over two million. In the last week and a half, we’re talking close to another million.”

  “I’m not close to a million yet, but it’s in the hundreds of thousands. I can’t even check my messages anymore.” He thought about the tabloid cover he saw in the airport bookstore. He’d never imagined that one day his face would grace the cover of a national tabloid.

  “Yeah. That’s a bummer. My friends and family just text me instead of messaging. There’s no way around it.”

  “The good thing is that I took your advice and haven’t followed anyone new. So, I’m able to at least still read my feed without it overwhelming me.”

  “Smart.”

  She sat back as her salad was placed in front of her. Don offered fresh ground pepper, and she declined. As Davis picked up his soup spoon and looked at the tomato bisque in front of him, Cora held out her hand. “I would love it if you would bless this food,” she said, as she often did before a meal.

  He easily took her hand and bowed his head. Something felt different about her, and he wondered about it. “Father, we thank you again for this time to know each other and share a meal together. Bless this food and the hands that made it. Let it nourish us as we go forward to serve you.”

  Davis caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and caught sight of a teenager at the table next to them taking a picture of them praying. He didn’t mind. Hopefully, that kind of picture posted online would go well toward securing Cora’s and his reputation.

  Cora picked up her fork and knife. “What day do you leave?”

  “Day after tomorrow. I’m looking forward to getting back on the ice, to be honest.”

  They were silent for a few minutes, eating. Cora finally spoke, “I feel like we haven’t had enough time.”

  He set his spoon down and stared at her, trying to analyze what she said. “This is just a season.”

  She cleared her throat then smiled brightly. “At least we have technology to keep in touch.”

  He his heart rate accelerated as he stared at her beautiful face. “I’ll make sure you always know how to find me.”

  CHAPTER 6

  The rush of adrenaline sharpened Davis’ reflexes and helped keep his eyes on the black puck in front of him. He batted it back and forth with his stick, using his shoulder to bulldoze his way past the player trying to block him. Out of nowhere, he found himself slammed against the boards from his blindside, Stan Denney, a junior from Michigan State, who glared at him and pinned him against the boards with his stick. Still charged with adrenaline, he fought free, taking Stan’s skates out from under him and sending the man flying. He skated forward and reclaimed the stolen puck with an ease that looked rehearsed. Positioned exactly where he wanted to be, he raised the stick and swung hard, a slapshot that sent the black disk hurtling toward the net at nearly a hundred miles per hour.

  As the puck tipped off the goalie’s glove and hit the net behind him, the buzzer sounded, ending the period. His teammates cheered, sticks raised, as the score went from 2-2 to 3-2. The blue team, white team scrimmage ended with team blue on top. Davis raised his stick and his other hand and hooted into the air.

  Some of the players began to celebrate on the ice. The assistant coach for Team USA blew his whistle for the first time since the game began. “This isn’t Youth League, gentlemen. Save your unprofessional partying for the frat house. Hit the showers.”

  They gradually made their way to the bench and gathered bags and gear. Davis fell forward as someone knocked into him from behind. As he righted himself, he saw Stan Denney standing right behind him, arms folded over his chest like a guard.

  “Problem?” he demanded, slipping his helmet off and tossing it into his bag.

  “Sorry, bro. Total accident.” The way Stan glared, Davis could tell that the other man lied. He and Stan had never had a history. They’d met for the first time on the first day of this training camp, so his attitude confused him. Stan had dark brown eyes, black hair kept in dreadlocks, and skin the color of mocha.

  “No problem, then.” Davis watched him. Stan smirked. Davis continued, “But just know, if you want to go, I’m up for it.”

  He contemplated provoking Stan further, intentionally ramming into him as he went to the locker room, but refrained. That would break his personal code that his altercations got settled in the rink. He wanted to settle whatever this was on his own terms. Instead, he very carefully walked past him so as not to touch him and possibly get himself into trouble. On the outskirts of his brain, though, he could feel a little bit of temper, and he silently started praying for calm.

  He went into the dressing room with the rest of the team, no longer two teams separated by the scrimmage, but brothers in arms who all fought for the same team. They joked and talked and chatted with each other as they stripped their gear. Davis winced as he pulled his jersey over his head. Rubbing his hand over his ribs, he prodded and thought he’d likely have to go to bed with an ice pack tonight.

  “Denney!” Everyone paused and looked up as the assistant coach called Stan.

  “Yo!” Stan hung his skates on the hook in his locker and turned.

  “Coach wants you. Now.”

  As soon as the message was delivered, the conversations around the room resumed. Davis finished getting undressed and grabbed a towel and his shower kit. Once showered, he finished packing his gear and hefted his bag off the locker room bench just as his phone rang. Without thinking about it, he answered his mother’s call in Korean. “Ann-yeong.”

  Speaking in Korean as well, his mother said, “Hello, Davis. We are calling to let you know that we bought our tickets for Korea.”

  “Eomma, you should probably have waited until the official team roster is announced.” Speaking to her in her language came naturally to him, and he didn’t even notice the people around him while he talked.

  “That’s true, but that’s too close to February. Your father was worried that we wouldn’t be able to get good flights. So, we went ahead and did it now. We’d have gone anyway. Now we just wait to see if we have a reason to be in PyeongChang as well as Seoul.”

  He laughed and shut his locker door with his shoulder. “I’ll make sure you have a hotel room in PyeongChang, if necessary. It will be something that VelTech will do because I’ve done this contract with the phones. I know as a sponsor, they’ll have several rooms to give out.”

  “That will be very nice, but we can always stay with family if we need to. Davis, we are so proud of you. Do your best. We’ll see you soon. I love you.”

  “Bye, Eomma.”

  As he hung up the phone, he found Stan staring at him, blocking the exit of the locker room. “Who you talking to?”

  “My mother.” He walked forward and stopped in front of Stan. Behind him, he heard conversations slowly come to a stop. “Move, please.”

  Stan outweighed him easily by forty pounds, and he had four inches on him. “You gonna make me move, yellow boy?”

  For a minute, the words didn’t make sense coming from the mouth of one of his teammates. Some part of him wanted to believe that he didn’t really mean it that way, that Davis himself mistranslated. The insult started stirring anger inside him, but he cooled it off with thoughts of PyeongChang, the Olympic team, and the men slowly stepping up behind him. He would not risk his position here. He would be the better man and not react.

  As these thoughts flew through his mind, Stan stepped forward, an angry, aggressive light in his eyes. Davis’
environment slowed around him as the adrenaline increased in that heartbeat. He noticed Stan’s clenched fists, the vein throbbing in his temple, and the sweat on his brow. He also noticed, for the first time, that he wasn’t in a towel or civilian clothes. He still had most of his uniform on. What had he been doing for the last twenty minutes?

  Something had just happened. He could see it in the other man’s eyes. Davis just happened to be the first person he came across. Stepping back, he held up his free hand. He also, in the process, stepped closer to the team at his back.

  “You want to go? I’m not fighting you here, Stan. I save it all for the ice,” He set his bag down and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know what the problem is, but it won’t be me you fight.”

  “Don’t want to fight, huh? Well, that’s because you’re yellow in more ways than one.” Stan charged forward, and it took intentional and specific willpower to stand firm. “You’re the problem, you slant-eyed—”

  Before he could say another word, starting center John Crist stepped between them. “Save it for the ice, Denney.”

  The assistant coach appeared in the doorway behind Stan. “That’s the dinner bell, gentlemen. Denney? What are you doing? Coach told you to clear out your locker. Pack your gear. Let’s get it done.”

  Pack his gear? Davis knew the coach planned to start making cuts. No one person was guaranteed a spot, but the fact that the cuts had begun after just one scrimmage match was daunting. Clearly, the rest of the team thought so, too, because the atmosphere around the room changed from charged adrenaline to somber quiet. No one spoke as they all watched Stan walk to his locker and open it, pulling out a duffel bag. Though every eye followed him, no one said so much as a single word. A thick silence replaced the joking and teasing of moments ago.

  The assistant coach looked at the lot of them and gestured behind him with his thumb. When he opened his mouth and started speaking, his voice echoed in the silent room. “Dinner, gentlemen. Move it,” he reminded them, and in silence, everyone but Stan Denney filed out of the locker room.