by Aliyah Burke
“We can fix this.”
“We? What do you mean we? You’re the one who let this spiral out of control so fast.” She took a deep breath and held up her hands. “Nope, I can’t put all that on you. I should have refuted your statement the second I heard it.” She punched him in the arm. “Damn you, you still shouldn’t have said it.” She pressed a button on her phone. “Not even once.”
He pulled her flush to him and stared down at her. Who knew someone in parking lot lights could look so hot? “So, let’s make it real.”
She almost dropped her phone. “Excuse me?”
“It wasn’t real, but let’s make it real. Marry me.”
“You take more shots to the head tonight than I saw? That’s absolutely insane.” Didn’t explain why her insides were doing a happy dance.
“Why? We work together, Constantine.”
“We work?” She exhaled sharply and returned the phone to her pocket. Flattening her hand on his chest, she shook her head. “How do you know we work? We’ve had sex—granted, amazing sex—but that’s not a relationship. You were fucking puck bunnies possibly the day we met. I’m not the type of woman who is into sharing her man. I need complete and utter belief that I’m the only one for him. Especially for a man like you who’s out on the road all the time, where women show up in your hotel room, give you their room keys or panties. Sometimes both. If I was worried about that, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate at my job, and that’s not a place I need to remotely be when my head’s not in the game.”
She stepped away from him, missing his touch already. “I don’t have a crack team of doctors waiting on the boat for me. I fuck up, I die.” She lifted a hand at the taxi that’d just pulled in the lot, and it drove toward her. “A word to the wise, Sergej Markovich, that play may not be the best in your handbook. You should probably ask the woman first. Once you discover if you have anything in common with her outside the bedroom.” She opened the door to the waiting taxi. “It may work for some, but I need more than just a physical relationship with someone I plan to marry. Sex can be found anywhere, as you hockey players are well versed at proving. Goodbye.” Blinking back tears, she closed the door and laid her head back. “Airport, please.”
They were on the interstate when Vale called.
“Hey,” Constantine said, trying to ignore the pain in her heart.
“Are you with him?”
“No. I’m on my way to the airport. Didn’t he come back to the party?”
“Nope. Not seen him. I’m so sorry about what he did.”
She sighed and stretched. “I was pissed, Vale. I can’t lie about that. So much so, but then…then as it poured out of me, the anger vanished, and oh, God, I don’t know. You didn’t see the look in his eyes. It was like I’d stuck my hand in his chest and ripped out his heart.”
“Really? You’re feeling for him?”
“I don’t want to, but, yes, in a way, I suppose I am.” She pushed her fingers in the corners of her eye and struggled not to cry. This doesn’t make any sense. “My mom knows. Brian saw the news blog on it.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
“No, Vale. Let it go. I’ll handle it. If they come after me at work and harass my family, I’ll kill him.”
Vale chuckled. “There’s the bloodthirsty bitch I know. Are you okay?” Her question was hushed and sincere. “I know he meant a lot to you, despite what you’re trying to convince yourself of this very moment.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Then, stop trying to analyze if you overreacted. Be pissed, it’s allowed.”
“Can you send my bag to me?”
“I will. I’m so sorry I brought you out here for this.”
“Don’t be. Overall, I had one hell of a time, and let’s face it, I got a really cool jacket out of the deal.”
“Shit, you didn’t throw it back in his face?”
“I’m still wearing it.” Vale didn’t need to know Constantine didn’t want to give it back; it would give her a reason to contact him later on. For all her words, she wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to never speak to him again. It hadn’t been all about sex. Hell, he damn near knew her life story and she his. The time they’d been together had just been short, was all. “I’m at the airport; I’ll call you when I land. Don’t worry, I’ll leave a message. I’m sure you’ll be drunk or shacked up with a player.”
“You sure you don’t want me to come see you off?”
“Naw, I’m a big girl. I can make through the airport on my own. Talk to you soon, Vale.” She hung up and dug for her card. Swiping for the payment and tip, she left the cab with a smile and a “thank you”.
αβ
“No, I don’t do boat tours, and I’m not Sergej Markovich’s fiancée.” Constantine’s jaw ached with the pressure she exerted on it. Two months and people still came asking about that. Wanting to know the story on how they met. When he was going to be there for a visit. And when the wedding was. She wheeled around and stomped the rest of the way to the boat, frowning at her crew as she passed them. At least the reporters weren’t allowed on their slip.
She remained below deck until they’d gone out to sea. Only then did she venture back to the deck and allow herself to settle in a seat to enjoy the August sun. John sat beside her, and she wriggled her toes as they streaked out toward their next job.
“Am I supposed to call you Czarina now?”
“Not you too,” she griped, angling her head to glare at him.
“Isn’t that what they were in Russia? The rulers?”
“Don’t make me throw you overboard,” she threatened.
His deep laughter was contagious, and she soon joined in. There wasn’t any way she’d get him over; he was too big for her to even contemplate lifting. He’d been a Navy diver then ruptured both eardrum, so he had to stay on the boat.
“What’s going on? I mean, this was supposed to die down.”
“I thought it would. Honestly, I swear I did.”
“But it’s not.”
The anger began anew. “Is this where you tell me I have to fix it or I’m out of a job?”
“No, this is where I tell you to fix it or I’m grounding you. You’re not focused enough after run-ins like this. I’m not comfortable sending you down.” He shook his head. “Danny will take this one.” He held up his hand to ward off her instant rebuttal. “No arguing. He’ll go down and assess. If, and Lord help me I mean if, when he’s done with that, I feel you’re okay to dive, I’ll let you go. If not, your ass ain’t leaving this boat. At least not in any gear.”
“I’m fine,” she protested.
“Good for you, but you’re not going.” He gripped her chin. “My boat. My rules. I’m not doing this because we’re mad you didn’t mention him to us. I’m doing this because I’ve dived longer than you’ve been alive, and I’m not risking you because your head’s not in the game. Can’t be in the game, it gets delayed for you.”
She nodded. “Okay, put me to work. I’ll stay topside today. I will be right for the next project. I will.”
“See that you are.” He held her gaze for a bit then nodded and walked away.
Danny approached next and crouched before her. “We okay?”
Her smile was forced, but she meant it. “Of course we are. I’m the one who’s not up to par today, Danny. I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize. We’re a team.”
“I’ll be on the line, looking at the screen, as well.”
“I know you will, boss lady.” He winked. “I’d best get ready.”
She shoved to her feet, curse words dangling from the tip of her tongue. This had to stop. Had to. She wasn’t giving up all she’d worked so hard for. She headed to the main cabin and dug for her cell phone. Time to tackle this head on.
Chapter Seven
Tripping—the act of knocking an opponent down by taking their feet out from under them using a stick or part of the body. A penalty.
“We’v
e not heard about any wedding plans. Anything you’d care to share?”
Sergej glared the reporter. “Actually, yes. I do have something to say to all of you. Only once, so listen up.”
He glanced to his left, Nate stood there off to the side, hugging the shadow as he always did. To the right, Victor, who was at this event with him. Man was pissed as all get out with Sergej but had stowed the hatred for the purpose of the day. They had the same agent.
“I find it sad and, honestly, downright disgusting that on a day we are here to celebrate the new wing of this children’s hospital, you are more focused on my private life. There are children here with incredible stories of bravery, but you want gossip or potential dirt on me and my business. That’s right, my business. Who I marry, when I marry, it has nothing to do with any of you. So, hear me, when those questions, personal questions, come I will be like Seahawks’ running back Lynch and won’t say a word when they are coming in my direction. I will not say a word.”
Victor gazed at him, and Sergej shrugged. He wasn’t about to apologize for taking control of his own life. No more of being their toy.
“So,” Andrea, another reporter, said, “if that’s off limits, can we at least talk about the trade rumors?”
He cocked a brow at her. “Again, this day isn’t about me, or the Raptors. It’s about these amazing kids and the new wing at the hospital. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some skating to do.” He rose with fluid motion and headed across the hospital grounds to the location the temporary rink that had been set up.
Victor joined him later as they ran some drills with the able children. Sergej watched his friend, noting how good he was with children. Later on, as he was breaking down some of the equipment, Victor skated over to him and leaned on the barrier.
“You look like shit.”
“If that’s an olive branch, it sucks.”
“Best you’re gonna get. Where’s Connie?”
“Don’t call her that,” he snapped, putting away some sticks after removing the tape. “It’s Constantine.”
“I know who she is. I also know what her name is. She’s been damn near part of my family for years.” Victor looked over the half wall. “I asked where she was.”
Sergej threw the last stick into the box and glared at the one man, even now, he’d consider his best friend. Even if they weren’t on speaking terms. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to be miserable.”
He sneered. “Newsflash, I am miserable.”
“Good.”
“Why? Why do I have to be like this? Does it make you feel better that my life is hell? I shouldn’t be. I’m on top of the mother-fucking world. Stanley Cup winner. I’ve got more endorsements than I could have dreamed of. So, I’m just fucking peachy. All is fine. The woman I love isn’t talking to me and won’t return my calls. I’ve basically ruined her life by not stepping in and fixing the comment Nate made before the reporters. So, congrats, my life sucks; hope that makes you feel like royalty.”
Victor drew back as if Sergej punched him in the face.
Sergej crossed his arms and shrugged. “What?”
“She means that much to you?”
“I eat, sleep, breathe reliving memories of her. I can’t explain it; hell, I won’t. It is what it is.”
“So, go after her.”
“I can’t find her. Vale isn’t talking to me, either. So, enjoy your victory that I’m unhappy; just get out of my face about it.”
“Well, shit.”
He watched the kids filing off the ice and knew they didn’t have long before they were once again surrounded by the youngsters. “What now?” God, his heart wasn’t in this. He wanted to find her and straighten all this out.
“You’re seriously in love with her.”
He lifted his gaze to Victor’s blue one. “Yes, I am.”
“I thought this was all a phase, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t understand this was real.”
The children neared, wide smiles and sparkling eyes. He stowed the conversation, for now, and focused back on the reason they were there.
Victor fell into step with him as they departed the hospital. It had been two hours longer than they’d agreed to be there, but Sergej didn’t mind. He’d had fun. Still, in the back of his mind, he was trying to find a way to track this woman down. Hell, maybe I should ask a reporter. I’m sure they know where she is.
“You know, maybe you should take some time off and head down to the Gulf of Mexico. Check out some things near Venice.”
“Venice is in Italy.”
“I mean Venice, Louisiana.” Victor shook his head. “Trust me, go down there. Take in the sights; perhaps you should even sign up for some fishing out in the Gulf.”
“What the fuck do I want head there for? I don’t fish.”
“Learn. Take some time. You may run into people you’re looking for.”
“Constantine?”
“Sorry, I can’t talk to you about her. I have to run.” He jogged off, stopped and looked back. “Venice.” Then, he vanished from sight, ducking into his truck.
“Hey, stranger.”
At that voice, he closed his eyes and groaned. The reporter who wouldn’t take no for an answer.
He pivoted and coolly stared at Martine. “Something I can help you with?”
“Just wondering if you’re done with that crap talk about a fiancée, and we can hook back up?”
He stepped toward her, eyes narrowing. Behind her, he noticed Nate waving him over. “We will never happen again.” Then, he moved on to his agent. “What do you want?”
“You’ve been a bear since the night you won the Cup. I’m sure this is my fault, and I’ll tell the press this—”
“I should have corrected it then, Nate. This is on me. I didn’t say anything because I want to marry her. And, if people need me, you handle it. I’m going to be unreachable for a while.”
“Going to get her?”
“Hell, yes. I want no distractions. So, you handle calls, tell them I’m unavailable. I’ll let you know when I’m back.” He smacked him on the shoulder and went to his own car.
“A box came for you, Mr. Markovich,” the one manning the desk in his building informed him when he came in.
Changing direction, he went to the counter and accepted the box. He hadn’t ordered anything so didn’t have a clue as to what it could be. Sergej frowned when he didn’t locate a return address. Typically, he was careful, and most stuff went through his agent, fielding out the crazies. Those who knew where he lived tended not to hide the return address or their name.
“Thank you,” he said, hefting it and heading to the elevator.
He placed it on his table and went to arrange a flight and hotel in Venice. Only when he’d finished that did he turn his attention to the waiting box. Turned out to be something from a former girlfriend who’d been in his place. Letters, pictures, and more. He rolled his eyes and dropped it off in the incinerator then went back to his apartment.
Later that night, he found himself boarding a plane for New Orleans. There was a rental waiting for him, and he was fine driving the ninety miles to Venice. God, I hope Victor is right about this.
αβ
Constantine sliced through the warm water toward the waiting boat before she dove down and continued on her way. Pushing up, she blinked away the water running down her face and smiled at the person waiting with an outstretched hand.
“Thanks, Danny,” she said, accepting his help onto the boat. Seconds later, she snatched the towel out of the air, prior to it smacking her in the face. “Thanks, John.”
“Welcome.” He laughed and ambled away.
She dried off and walked to a seat and lowered herself to the sun-warmed spot. “When do we have to be at work tomorrow?”
“Early morning,” Danny replied, tossing her a beer from the cooler.
“So, I guess that means I can’t tie one on tonight.”
He kicked her ankle. “Sure
you can. I’ll be sober.”
“No, that’s fine. This is mine. All good.”
She opened the Coors and drank before leaning back. They’d worked early this morning, and she’d finished what she could for the day. They were spending the afternoon out on the Gulf, enjoying the sun and some free time.
“Are you sure?” Danny asked. He stood beside her, arms flexed. “Me big strong man.”
She snorted and pushed him, laughing when he went over the side. Beer on the deck, she dove in after him and chased him in the water. He was just as strong a swimmer as she, so it took her a while to get to him. They played, swam, and, overall, had a wonderful time. All but John went in the water.
As the sun lowered in the sky, she struck out back to the boat and climbed the ladder. Other nearby boats had also begun preparations to head back to the pier. She shook the excess water from her hair and glanced to her left, simultaneously catching the towel that John launched at her face, per his usual. Luckily, his action was so expected, her hand knew what to do, because otherwise, she would have dropped it. Standing on the deck of the boat nearest them had one tall, sexy as sin, winger for the Washington Raptors, Sergej Markovich.
Her legs trembled. What the crap is he doing here? Running the towel down her face, she stole another look, and sure enough, Sergej stood there. Arms crossed, watching her with an intensity that no other man had looked at her with. God, she’d missed him. She flicked her tongue over her lips, and his gaze darkened.
Damn, that broad chest, powerful arms, and legs of steel that carried him over the ice with graceful ease. The way he stared made her think she was naked, and there was the urge to cover her body. But she ignored that; she had nothing to hide. Draping the towel over her shoulder, she made her way to where she’d left her beer, bent to pick that up, and walked away to the other side of the boat, out of his sight.
“So,” John said when she appeared beside him. “What the hell is Sergej Markovich doing on that charter, staring at you as if you’re the air he needs to breathe?”