Fucking hell. The asshole was right here in Rochester and working for the same outfit as Rosie. These facts could be very useful. He almost smiled, but he never smiled anymore. The act of smiling tugged at the edges of his scar, and it hurt. It reminded him of what he’d lost at the hands of Rosie and the douche bag staring back at him from the confines of his luxury office. Denny didn’t like pain. And he didn’t like being reminded. Only one thing could chase away the unwanted emotion. Revenge.
Chapter Fourteen
Kylie gaped in awe at the building and grounds that grew closer as their taxi turned up the long driveway. Nausea bubbled up the back of her throat and threatened to overwhelm her. She’d had visions of a room with a king-sized bed and maybe an armchair so they could spend some alone time. But this, it was palatial. She didn’t want to stay here. Nothing in her suitcase was appropriate for this rich man’s hotel. It had to be bigger than the Four Seasons.
“What is this…a bed and breakfast? It’s huge.”
Shredder chuckled and gazed out the same window, leaning over her with one arm around her shoulders. “Nope,” he said. “This is home. One of them, anyway.”
Kylie turned to him, their noses nearly touching as he drew in close. She liked being near him, but he kept blowing her mind at every turn. No, it couldn’t be. He’d never said anything. Dammit, she knew she should have googled him harder instead of feeling like she was invading his privacy. Then she could have been prepared. Could have said no.
Kylie Rose didn’t date the loaded guy. Sure, Shredder was wealthy on his NHL salary, but the edifice looming before her reminded her of something she’d seen in a Kennedy biopic. This was his home? She felt so out of her element it wasn’t funny. Normally, she’d turn tail and run but where would she go? Instead, she deflected her discomfort with a joke.
“Oh, just one. Did I ever tell you I only date a man with multiple homes?”
He smiled and leaned in for a kiss. She gave it to him. The taxi pulled into a roundabout in front of the main entrance, just like in the movies, and they stepped out. A wide set of curving concrete stairs led to the massive double doors. Once inside, the opulence continued to astound her. For a fleeting moment, she was Cinderella at the ball, being escorted by the Prince. Kylie clamped her eyes shut and imagined a glittering ball gown and strappy sandals. Except in this fantasy, her hair wasn’t pink. No. It was styled into an intricate and sleek updo. She looked regal and beautiful. Like she belonged. She shook her head. He’d never let on…not one hint. And after Google had told her he wasn’t an ax murderer, she hadn’t dug any deeper. Holy shit. Beer-spilling, puck-stopping, Def Leppard-imitating Shredder Politski was on another plane of wealth.
“Sheldon, darling,” a voice cascaded from one of the spiral staircases that hugged either side of the immense entrance hall. Kylie turned to the distinctly European-accented sound. A large, dark-haired woman descended the steps, arms wide in greeting. “So wonderful to see you. Welcome home.”
Kylie couldn’t take her eyes off the woman as she continued her approach, seeming to float toward them as if suspended on jets of air. Her sleek hair parted in the middle and flowed down her shoulders in a silken brunette river. She hugged Shredder then stepped back, her glance finally landing on Kylie.
“And who do we have here?”
“Mom, this is Kylie Rose, from Rochester. Kylie, this is my mother, Natasha.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Kylie said, uncomfortable with calling the woman by her first name. She’d have said Mrs. Politski, but one never knew these days if a woman took her married name or not. She decided not to take the chance and offered a handshake.
Natasha’s green eyes looked her over, fixating first on her hair, and then her hand. For a moment, she looked like she might not return the offering, and Kylie noted a dismissive look in her eyes before she masked it with false warmth. Mrs. Politski knew Kylie didn’t belong and was silently calling her out. She’d already been deemed unimportant. Kylie felt a sliver of regret infiltrate her body. She should never have come here. Her mind raced with strategies to bow out gracefully and go home. After a few tense seconds, Mrs. Politski took Kylie’s fingers in her palm and squeezed.
“The pleasure’s mine,” she said, then turned to Shredder. “Where’s this friend you mentioned? I was so looking forward to meeting another member of your team. And then…well, I thought it might be Cole. You know how much I love that young man.”
Kylie’s brow furrowed in confusion, and she looked to Shred for an explanation. He hadn’t told his parents she was accompanying him? What to expect? Was he ashamed of her?
“Mom, Miss Rose is my friend. And she is part of the team – she works in the head office for the Riot.”
Friend?
“Oh,” Natasha said, mild disappointment in her voice. “I thought she was your personal assistant. How nice.” She arranged a polite smile for Kylie’s consumption, then refocused on her son. “Well, it’s so good to have you home. I do hope you’ll excuse me, but I have a million things to do before the party starts. I’ll see you later, dears.”
Natasha quickly floated off in the other direction, joined midway across the hall by a pair of what looked like either caterers or contractors. Kylie turned to Shredder wanting an explanation but not sure how to articulate how deeply he’d just hurt her feelings.
“Your mom seems…nice,” she said, echoing Natasha’s words. “She was expecting someone else, I take it?”
Shred smiled and reached for her hand. “Don’t take it personally. I said I was bringing a friend, and she assumed I meant one of the guys.”
“You never mentioned me?”
“I wanted to surprise her.”
And me too.
“I think you succeeded.” Kylie fixed him with a stare. Didn’t he get it? No. He couldn’t possibly get it. The man born with the silver spoon in his mouth would have no understanding of struggle. “Honestly, Shredder. You couldn’t have warned me about…this?” She waved her free hand in the air around them. “I’m totally unprepared…I’m…” she broke off.
“You’re what?” he prompted with a crestfallen look. Please, God, don’t let him smile that damn smile that melts my heart no matter what he’s done. “Sorry you came?”
He squeezed her hand, but Kylie removed hers and shoved them both in her pockets. She didn’t want to touch him right now. Didn’t want that intimate connection or the tingling that came with it. She needed to focus and keep her head clear so she could decide what to do. How to protect herself from the opulence enveloping her, choking her with visions of what she could never have.
“Yes, maybe, but…I thought we’d be going to a barbecue or something, not the President’s Ball. I didn’t know your family was so…well off. I feel like the hillbilly cousin or something.” She dropped her eyes. I don’t belong here, and I’ll never belong here. I’ll never belong with you. “That wasn’t fair of you.”
He tipped her chin up with his fingertips, and she looked away. He seemed to not want to stop touching her and just kept creating new emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. Jesus, he already knew how to play her like a weeping violin.
“I don’t make a habit of telling people my family’s financial status. For exactly that reason. They go all phony and try to suck up or pretend to be something they’re not. Like I told you, I want people to see the real me, not my net worth.” His brown eyes searched hers, the sincerity in them warming and calming her as they always did. “You saw the real me, didn’t you? And you came here anyway because I asked you to. I’m glad you’re here.” He kissed her on the nose.
She smiled, but still felt nervous and out of place in spite of his reasonable explanation. In that moment, it hit her. Shredder dealt with the same kind of struggle about who and what he was, just like she did. It was just…different. A wave of empathy for his position washed over her. Growing up with that kind of pressure as an only child couldn’t have been easy either.
“Well, now
your mom’s seen the real me. And I got the distinct impression she’s never seen pink hair before.”
“Well, neither did I until I met you. Especially where you’re hiding it,” he teased.
She felt her cheeks grow hot; probably in a matching shade. Every time she thought she’d gotten used to his teasing, he came up with something even more outrageous. But then, she’d started the whole thing.
“Did you like it?” she said, quirking her eyebrows suggestively.
His charming grin came out to play as his arms snaked around her back. “It gives a whole new meaning to being ‘in the pink.’”
“You should be so lucky,” she countered.
“I plan to be,” he said, his voice dropping into bedroom mode. His hand slipped down to rest on her butt cheek and gave it a squeeze.
A jolt of heat went straight to the juncture of her thighs and wetness streamed in. She’d wanted this man for so long it seemed like forever. His parent’s mansion wasn’t the first time locale of her dreams, but it would have to do.
“Are we sharing a room?” she asked, returning his heated gaze. “You didn’t warn me about the accommodations, either. I just assumed…”
“Let me show you,” he offered with a wink. “We’ve got a few hours before the party.”
***
They only stopped in Shredder’s bedroom long enough to change and drop their luggage. Though she’d liked to have ripped his clothes off and thrown him on the bed, there was just too much to see in the grand estate, and Kylie wanted to see it all. Not to mention finding something appropriate to wear out of the collection of clothes she’d brought with her. Nothing fancy had suddenly materialized in the confines of her suitcase. She rummaged through and decided on her only sundress. It would have to do in a pinch.
She used his private bathroom first, pulling the floral print over her head, refreshing her make-up and taming her hair with a black headband affixed with taffeta flowers. The reflection staring back at her didn’t look like it belonged. But it did look pretty. Fresh-faced and glowing. When she exited, Shredder had traded his travel uniform of jeans and a button down for a sport coat and slacks.
Kylie’s breath stuck somewhere the vicinity of her throat. She’d never seen a man look so scrumptious. From the way the coat emphasized his broad shoulders to the material of his slacks stretched across his powerful thighs, Shredder Politski was one hot tamale. And for one magical night, he belonged to her.
“Are you ready to explore?”
His smoky voice cut through her lust-filled machinations, and her eyes snapped back to his face to find his watching her. A twinkle lit his soulful brown eyes, and Kylie knew she’d been caught red-handed devouring him with her own.
The estate sat on nearly eight acres of land and ran down to the ocean at one end. The views were fantastic and the house itself breathtaking in its grand colonial style with massive white pillars and an expansive porch. The lawns facing the water were set up for the celebration with buffet tables, a band shell and parquet dance floor, kiddie rides and games of chance. Twinkling lights swathed every available post, and drapes and bunting of red white and blue adorned the perimeters. The whole thing was set to resemble a State Fair. Shredder explained that tickets to the event were thousands of dollars apiece, with the proceeds shared among local charities that the Politskis supported.
“There’ll be fireworks at ten o’clock,” Shredder said as they watched the guests begin to arrive. “And knowing my mother, they’ll rival anything you’ve ever seen in Minnesota. Let’s get some drinks before dinner.”
They walked down to the lawn as dusk fell, the grounds coming alive with twinkling lights and the strains of Dixieland music from the band shell. Kylie had never experienced anything like it and felt as though transported to some Hollywood set. This was all a dream, and any moment she’d wake up. Her fingers moved to her arm of their own accord, and she pinched herself, welcoming the sting. It let her know she was alive. With Shredder by her side.
They were served champagne at one of the bar stations and sat down to enjoy it at one of the plentitude of tables decked out in red white and blue linens. Scents of roasted meat tickled her nostrils. She imagined the food would be as rich as the surroundings.
“Happy Fourth of July, Kylie Rose,” he said, raising his glass in a toast.
She touched the rim of her glass to his. “Same to you, Shredder Politski. Thank you for inviting me.” And she realized she meant it. Even if nothing like this ever happened again in the space of her life, she’d always have the memory of this new-age fairytale to keep her warm when the Minnesota nights grew frigid again. She’d take it for as long as it lasted. What she really wanted was to grab on with both hands and never, ever let go.
They each took a sip. He looked outrageously handsome in his attire, his crisp sky-blue dress shirt open at the neck. Flickering light from the antique lanterns set on each table rippled across his rugged features and reflected off his freshly shaved scalp.
“You look beautiful, by the way.”
She smiled, knowing it was the polite thing for him to say. Her pink floral sundress with a black taffeta overskirt was no competition to his classy outfit nor any of the designer dresses she was certain would be streaming into the place at any moment. She felt woefully inadequate but determined to have a fun evening and make Shredder proud to have her as his date.
“Thank you.”
She took another sip of champagne, feeling it go straight to her head. She’d best take it slow on the booze. Couldn’t have the hillbilly cousin rolling around on the floor drunk by the time dinner was served. A thought popped into her head.
“Why do they call you Shredder?” she asked. “No one’s ever said why. I’ve never heard that bandied about the front office as a known hockey term.”
He finished his glass of bubbly in one long drink and smiled, his eyes alive with mirth.
“Long story, but back in the day the players used to get a kick out of snowing me. You know, skating into my crease with their blades at a steep angle and spraying me with the shaved ice. Until one day I got into the dressing room early and cut up all their practice jerseys with my skate blade. They never did it again. Been called Shredder ever since.”
Kylie’s mouth dropped open in delight. If he ever stopped surprising her in the best ways, she’d be heartbroken. Feelings coursed through her body. Feelings she didn’t want to explore because she feared they looked a lot like love. And she didn’t love Shredder. Not yet. Not ever. Allowing herself to fall would spell disaster. She clamped her eyes shut against the onslaught and tamped them down. When she opened them, she found him laughing at her.
“You didn’t!”
“Did.”
She laughed out loud. “Remind me never to piss you off. I don’t have a lot of clothes but the ones I do have, I’d like to be able to wear to the office.”
“If you piss me off, you’ll be the first to know, believe me. Another?” he asked, dangling his empty glass.
She licked her lips and swirled her still half-full glass before setting it down. “I’m not really a champagne kind of gal. In case you haven’t noticed already,” she said with a sheepish grin. “Do you have any beer?”
He laughed out loud and set his down as well. “Damn straight. I hate this fruity, sparkly shit too.”
He retrieved two beers from the bar. The evening was clear and warm, and the cold brew went down like liquid gold. Soon, caterers began rolling out the mountains of food to the buffet tables, the smells of roast hip of beef and buttery clam chowder wafted in the fresh summer air. When they’d filled their plates and returned to their table, Natasha and a tall, striking man with gray hair and eyeglasses joined them. Kylie’s pulse started the requisite pounding. In a heartbeat, she knew the man looming over her before he even spoke.
Shredder got to his feet as they arrived. “Dad,” he said, giving the gentleman a bear hug.
“Wonderful to see you, Sheldon,” he said as h
e stood back an arm’s length to give his lookalike son the once over. Only when Shredder passed muster did the older man turn toward her.
“Dad, I’d like you to meet Kylie Rose. Kylie, this is my father, Emil Politski.”
“Pleased to meet you,” she said, trying not to gape. Powerful. Distinguished. Shredder’s dad oozed class and wealth. She could see where Shredder got his handsome features. The man was an older, more seasoned version of his son, elegant in his black Armani suit.
“My pleasure indeed,” Emil said, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips. “You look beautiful, my dear. Does Minnesota have some special air that grows such lovely ladies, Sheldon? You’ve kept that secret to yourself.”
Charming too.
“I don’t know about the air because it’s so cold the rock rattling around in your shoe is your own toe. But you’re right about the girl,” Shredder said, giving Kylie a wink.
The man was an affable contrast to his wife. Natasha stood with her practiced, social smile engraved on her face that was otherwise devoid of expression. Kylie didn’t expect Shredder’s mother to like her but did she have to be so frosty you could make ice cubes on her ass? Kylie sighed and turned her attention to the handsome and charming Emil Politski. She almost wanted to bow down because he made her feel like she was in the presence of royalty.
“May we join you?” Emil asked, pulling out a chair for Natasha.
“Of course.”
Whatever nervousness Kylie had lost over champagne and beers now returned, having both Shredder’s parents at the table. Talk about trial by fire. What on earth could she converse with these people about? She knew nothing of the stock market, real estate investing or charitable contributions.
Fortunately, Shredder and his dad did most of the talking. Emil seemed interested in hockey while it appeared to bore Shredder’s mom. He found it fascinating that Kylie worked for the team and knew so much about the sport and the organization. She answered his questions between bites of their meal, grateful to be making a meaningful contribution and felt completely at ease with the man.
The Crease: A Rochester Riot Sports Romance Page 12