"You need to let it go, Shaw. If you haven't found her by now, you're not going to."
"And she probably doesn't want to be found. Tristan's right, man: let it go."
I wanted to tell them both what they could do with their advice but kept my mouth shut. Arguing was a waste of time, especially since we'd been having the same argument for the last few days. The worst part of it was that a small piece of me agreed with them. I'd been stalking the streets, searching for any sign of Addy, and had come up empty. I'd entered every damn boutique, sometimes twice, asking for her. Every voodoo shop, every restaurant, every bar.
And I'd struck out every single time. It was like she didn't exist. Like she just disappeared. Nobody knew her or, if they did, they weren't saying. It was as if she'd never existed in the first place.
Which was bullshit. I hadn't imagined her, or those three weeks of pure heaven spent with her. She didn't just up and disappear, which meant she was around here somewhere. I just hadn't found out where. I hadn't found her.
And finding her had quickly become my obsession.
I didn't need the two men standing in front of me to tell me that. And I sure as hell wasn't going to tell them I agreed with them. I wasn't proud of the obsession, didn't even completely understand it myself. It didn't matter what I told myself, or how many times I tried to convince myself I was acting like a lovesick ass, I couldn't shake the need to find her. Maybe it was just to apologize. Maybe it was just some twisted need for closure. It didn't matter.
I just needed to find her.
Something smacked me in the back of the head and I spun around, pushing against the dark material covering my face with an angry fist. A charcoal gray suit hit the floor at my feet, the hanger rattling against the hardwood plank floor with a tiny clatter. Luke stood several feet away, his green eyes boring into mine with an intensity he usually reserved for the pucks being shot his way.
"Get dressed. We're going to be late."
"I'm not going."
"The fuck you ain't."
I stepped forward, one hand curled into a fist. "I'm. Not. Going."
"You don't have a choice."
"The hell I don't." A hand wrapped around my upper arm, pulling me back before I could shove a fist into Luke's face. I whirled on Dylan, needing an outlet for my sudden irrational anger, but he stopped me cold with one look.
"You can't blow this off, Shaw, and you know it. None of us can."
"It's just a fucking party."
"Yeah, and it's being given by the owner."
"He won't even know I'm not there."
"Don't kid yourself. Landry isn't stupid. And he's not hands-off like some of the other owners out there. He'll know." Dylan nodded at the suit by my feet. "Now get dressed."
Resentment held me immobile for a few long seconds as I squared off with Dylan, a battle of wills silently raging between us. I didn't want to go, any more than anyone else on the team wanted to go. We weren't souvenirs or trinkets to be pulled out and shown off at someone else's whim and I couldn't help but think that's exactly what was going on with this damn party tonight. What other reason could Landry possibly have?
But as much as I wanted to refuse, Dylan was right: I couldn't afford to buck the system and piss off the new owner. Not now, not this early in the game. Following rules wasn't my thing but neither was deliberately sabotaging what little remained of my pathetic career. I'd done enough of that already and was living with the consequences every damn time I stepped out into the suffocating air of New Orleans.
I grabbed the suit from the floor and stalked into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me for privacy while I changed. I didn't bother to shave, did little more than run my fingers through my hair before stepping out of the bedroom and glaring at my teammates.
"At least fix your damn tie."
"There's nothing wrong with the tie."
Tristan stepped forward and tightened the strip of silk around my throat before I could fend him off. I glared at him then reached up and loosened it. "I'm trying to not suffocate before we get there."
Tristan shrugged then stepped around me and opened the door, like it was a given I'd follow without argument. Part of me wanted to balk—there was nothing I hated more than being told what to do—but in the end, I silently followed him and Luke and Dylan. They were at least partly right in saying I couldn't blow this party off, not when there was still too much riding on pleasing the new owner. I didn't have many prospects left and unless I wanted to put hockey completely behind me and move on, I'd have to suck it up and play by the rules, at least for a little longer.
Who the fuck was I kidding? I'd have to suck it up for a lot longer than that. Unless something drastic happened, the Bourdons were my last shot and I wasn't ready to give that up yet. Not tonight, not tomorrow. Hell, not ever. I couldn't imagine a life without hockey and nothing could make me blow this last chance.
So I sat in the back seat of Luke's SUV, sweltering in the stuffy air as the AC worked overtime to cool the dark interior. I was too busy stewing in my own resentment to pay much attention to where we were going or to the conversation around me, not until Dylan nudged me in the side with a shit-eating grin.
"That would be fun, wouldn't it?"
"What would?"
"Haven't you been paying any attention at all?"
"Not particularly, no." I turned my head to the side and stared out the window, noticing for the first time the expansive homes around us. Expansive? No, these were fucking mansions, reeking of old money and screaming of success despite how crammed together they were. I'd heard of the Garden District—how could I not have?—but hadn't been to visit yet. Looks like I was getting my chance to do that tonight.
Dylan nudged me again, a little harder this time to make sure I was paying attention. I turned and scowled at him but my silent warning didn't faze him.
"Something like that is right up your alley."
"Like what?"
"Making a play for the owner's daughter. Weren't you listening? Apparently he has two."
"And why would something so monumentally stupid be right up my alley?"
"You're the one who likes to flaunt the rules. Can't do much more flaunting than banging the owner's daughter right under his nose."
"That's not stupid, that's career suicide. And even though whatever career I have left might totally suck, I'd like to hang on to it for a while longer."
"Yeah, I guess."
Tristan shifted in the front seat so he was facing us. "I don't know, it might be worth it. I've never been with a debutante before."
"I don't think they're called that anymore."
"Sure they are. I read some article about it a few months ago."
"Trying to hook up with the owner's daughter, debutante or not, is the last fucking thing you need."
Tristan shot a frown in Luke's direction. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
I snorted and shook my head. "It means you got yourself in enough trouble in Utica. Or didn't you think we'd heard about that?"
Heat colored Tristan's face and he quickly looked away, slinking down in the front seat as he muttered something under his breath. He'd been caught in the act going at it hot and heavy with the sister of one of his former teammates. Getting caught with your pants down around your ankles was bad enough but when it was the girl's brother that did the catching? Yeah, that was a no-no. Family was off-limits, period. You just didn't do it. Tristan apparently missed that memo because he'd done it again and the situation had gotten pretty ugly.
According to rumor, anyway. I figured there was a fifty-fifty chance that part of the story held a small kernel of truth and the rest of it was just bullshit.
"Holy shit." Luke muttered the words, his voice filled with a hint of awe as he pulled the SUV to a stop in front of a sprawling mansion sitting at the corner of a narrow street. I bit back my own stunned disbelief as a white-gloved valet motioned us forward then gallantly opened the doors for us.
> "You've got to be fucking kidding me."
I shot a glance in Dylan's direction, silently agreeing with him as I reached up and hastily adjusted my tie before climbing out. Coach had told us yesterday that we didn't need formal wear, that suits would be perfectly acceptable. Part of me had figured he'd been joking—both times. I mean, who the fuck required suits at a fucking house party? Now I wondered if maybe we were underdressed. Would we be turned away at the door? Or maybe we'd be brought in through the servants' entrance.
Because if anyplace around here would have a servants' entrance, it was the monstrosity in front of us. Two staggering stories high, it looked like some kind of old Italian villa, complete with columns and wrap-around porches or verandas or whatever the hell they were called down here. Ancient trees decked out in twinkling lights stood guard around the front, just in case the wrought iron fence surrounding the place wasn't deterrent enough to keep unwelcome guests out.
The four of us exchanged a look and I knew without words that they were thinking the same thing I was: we were way out of our league here. I had no idea who Landry really was but whatever impression I'd first had was obviously wrong.
Whatever. He had money—obviously. And just as obviously it was old money. That didn't matter. At least, it shouldn't. The man put his pants on each morning the same way we did: one leg at a time.
Unless he had someone to dress him, which was looking like it could be quite possible.
I shook off my stunned awe then pushed through the gate and started up the lit walkway, only partly aware of the twinkling lights in the mammoth trees around us. The sole of my shoe scraped against the wide steps leading up to the door, the sound disappearing in the echo of lively music drifting from the open doors. Gerard Landry, the owner of the Bourdons, stood on one side, a warm smile of welcome wreathing his broad face. Across from him stood a well-dressed couple, their smiles of greeting more polite than warm.
I came to an abrupt stop, my feet refusing to budge as I got a good look at the woman standing three feet away from me. Her dark hair, so thick and wavy, was swept up in some kind of fancy style that exposed the column of her neck. The light reflected off the jeweled pins in her hair and danced on the ones hanging from her ears.
I stood there, frozen in place, trying not to gawk as I fought to fill my lungs with air. The woman must have finally realized something wasn't quite right because she turned her head just a few inches in my direction, her dark eyes meeting mine. Recognition slammed into me and I took a startled step forward only to be stopped short by a hand grabbing me from behind. Dylan, I thought, though I couldn't be sure even though it was his strangled voice I heard behind me.
"Holy fuck."
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Landry's shoulders stiffen a fraction of an inch. The smile faltered from the other man's face, the one standing entirely too close to the woman I couldn't look away from.
The woman who was staring back at me, her dark eyes filled with the same surprise I felt.
"Addy?"
Chapter Eight
Addy
I found a quiet spot in the busy kitchen and tucked myself into the corner, wishing the walls would tumble around me and knock me out of my misery—or just knock me out, period. The catering staff hurried about their business, refilling empty platters with food and drinks while steadfastly ignoring the woman with a pale face and trembling hands doing her best to disappear in the midst of the surrounding chaos. Would Quinn come looking for me? Or worse, my father?
Oh God, Daddy was going to kill me.
Or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he wouldn't think anything about my mumbled excuse of not feeling well followed by my hasty retreat.
And maybe it would snow tomorrow.
Daddy may not always understand some of the subtle nuances of his daughters but he was a shrewd businessman and a concerned father. There was no way he could have missed my reaction to Nathan.
The wide-eyed surprise.
The sharp gasp.
The way I moved toward him, reaching for him, before catching myself and abruptly stepping back.
The heat of a fiery blush as it burned my cheeks, the reaction from embarrassment as much as it was from need. I'd moved toward him! Had thought, for just that brief second, about throwing myself into his arms.
Right there, in front of Quinn.
In front of my father.
Oh God, Daddy was so going to kill me. There was no way he could have missed that, not even if he'd been blind and born yesterday.
I waved a hand in front of my face, fanning my heated cheeks before dabbing at the small bead of sweat along my hairline. I needed some water. And cool air. And a few minutes to think.
Then I needed to go back out there and act like nothing was wrong.
The first item on my list was manageable. Everything else...well, I'd deal with them one at a time, as soon as I had something to drink. I pushed away from the corner, dodged around two people carrying heavy trays, and made a beeline for the sink.
Water first. If I could focus on doing that much at least, maybe I'd figure out what to do about everything else.
"Adelaide!"
I jumped when I heard my name. Water sloshed over the rim of the glass and spilled onto my hand and wrist, the coolness welcome amid my clumsiness. I turned, a fake smile plastered on my face as my sister, Marie, threaded her way through the crowded kitchen. She stopped next to me, leaned her head in close, and lowered her voice so nobody could overhear.
"What just happened?"
"What? Nothing. Why?" Had she been there? I hadn't seen her but that meant absolutely nothing.
"Don't say nothing. I saw the way you took off. Who is that guy?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Marie's head tilted to one side, wide blue eyes staring at me in silent reprimand. "Addy, I'm your sister. I know better. Now who is he?"
"He's nobody. Just somebody I met. That's all."
Marie watched me for a long minute, those blue eyes that were so much like our mother's seeing more than I wanted her to see. A small smile teased one corner of her mouth as a spark of excitement danced in her eyes. "Adelaide Landry! You're sleeping with one of Daddy's players."
"Keep your voice down," I hissed in warning before glancing around, worried that someone would overhear. The worry was needless because nobody was paying any attention to us. I grabbed Marie by the wrist and pulled her toward the corner where I'd first hid, just to be safe. "I'm not sleeping with him. And I didn't know he was one of Daddy's players."
"So you are sleeping with him."
"No, I'm not." Not anymore, I wasn't, not that that would matter if Daddy found out. He'd have a coronary.
"What's his name?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Then I'll just go ask."
"You'll do no such thing." I grabbed her before she could spin away, worried she'd do just that for no other reason than because she could. I let out an exasperated sigh and relented. "Nathan. His name is Nathan."
"What's his last name? Where is he from? How'd you meet?" The questions flew at me, one after the other until I held my hand up in a vain attempt to stop her.
"You're as bad as Jacqui with all your questions."
"So? I'm just curious, that's all."
"Well, you're not getting the answers."
"And why not?"
"Because." The answer didn't work any better now than it had all those times when our mother used it on us while we were growing up. Marie tilted her head to one side and lifted both brows in a sign of impatience. I took a deep breath and released it in a hurry, knowing she wouldn't give up until I answered. "Fine. I don't know. I don't know. And at a bar."
She frowned, no doubt mentally aligning my answers with the list of questions she'd thrown at me. Her face cleared a split second before her eyes rounded with surprise. "You slept with him without knowing anything about him?"
I started to tell her that was the whole point o
f a one-night stand but caught myself just in time. Marie was no more innocent than I was but that didn't mean I planned on sharing the details of my sex life, such as it was, with my nineteen-year-old sister. "I didn't plan on interviewing him as a potential prospect if that's what you mean. We were just having fun."
"Addy, I saw the look he gave you as you ran away. That wasn't the look a man gives a woman he's just having fun with."
"I think you were seeing things."
"No, I wasn't."
"You were. And even if you weren't, it doesn't matter because we're not seeing each other anymore."
"Because you broke things off with him?"
"No. And it doesn't matter now anyway."
"But it does. I think you should go find him and talk to him."
"No, Marie, I can't." I leaned closer and lowered my voice even more. "He's one of Daddy's players. Nothing can happen now, you know that."
"I still think—uh-oh." Her gaze darted to something over my shoulder and the expression on her face caused the bottom of my stomach to drop open. It could only be one of two things—or rather, two people—and I wasn't ready to face either one right now.
"Who is it?"
"Quinn. He just came in looking for you." She pushed against my shoulder, urging me to leave. "Go. I'll take care of him."
"I can handle Quinn."
"I know you can—but wouldn't you rather be handling your hockey player instead?"
"Marie—"
"Just go. If nothing else, you can distract yourself by playing hostess while I distract Quinn."
"The man is a snake, Marie. Don't trust him."
Her gaze settled on mine and for a split second, what I saw in their depths left me unsettled. But she blinked and whatever I thought I saw was gone, leaving me wondering if I had simply imagined it. I started to question her but she waved me away.
"I'll be fine. Now go."
I hesitated a second longer than spun around and hurried off, weaving back and forth until I pushed through the back door and outside. Night air wrapped around me like a warm cloak, oddly comforting after the suffocating heat of the kitchen I'd just escaped. Maybe it wasn't the air itself, still heavy with humidity and the subtle fragrance of flowers. Maybe it was the soft lights twinkling like fairy dust in the trees, or maybe the strains of lively music coming from the small band set up at the back of the house.
Rule Breaker (New Orleans Bourdons Book 1) Page 5