“I insist.” Isn’t everyone supposed to be on a first-name basis over here anyway? I don’t like to be called Ms. Ravelli. It doesn’t feel right. And these two have just given me the warmest welcome ever. Maybe my assignment with the Ice Tigers will work after all. Hope blossoms inside me, and my breathing calms down.
“Well, if you insist….” Rob’s forehead wrinkles.
“I do.”
He looks as if he wants to say more, but Mary draws my attention to the baked goods on the tray.
“Emilia, what a beautiful name. I brought you some lobster rolls; they are considered a Boston specialty. Something to welcome you.”
“They smell heavenly, thank you. That’s very thoughtful. I’m pretty hungry. Please have some yourself, and we can chat a little.” Rob’s forehead wrinkles again, but he and Mary follow me to the couches, taking the seats across from me. Mary has barely placed the tray on the coffee table when I reach for a plate and help myself to two lobster rolls. I fight the urge to shove an entire roll in my mouth and take a delicate bite instead. The buttery flavor of the bun mixed with lemon juice and the sweet taste of the lobster explode in my mouth, and I have to suppress a moan. How good are these rolls?
“They’re delicious. You have to tell me where I can buy them.” I should only consume lobster in limited amounts while being pregnant, but as long as I don’t go overboard with them, I should be safe.
Mary laughs. “I’m so glad you like them. I’ll write down the bakery for you later.”
I pick up my second roll and look around the office, but my eyes are drawn to the shimmering ice again.
Mary follows my gaze. “The training is already over for today. But some players and training staff are in the workout area. We could give you a little tour and introduce you.”
“Oh no. I’d like to meet everyone tomorrow if possible.” No way I’m risking running into Matt before I’ve had the chance to speak with him in private. “I’ve only had a short time to prepare for this job, and I need today to go over some documents to learn more about the organization. Could you please schedule meetings to include everyone tomorrow? Or are there prescheduled meetings I could join?”
“Management will meet at nine tomorrow morning. I could organize a meeting with players and coaches at around ten. After that, you could take a tour and we’ll introduce you to the rest of the staff.” Mary doesn’t even look into her calendar.
“Perfect. Thank you, Mary.” I smile at her—not only because I’ll need her help in the future, but because she reminds me of my nonna with her warmth and efficiency. Before I’m overwhelmed by bittersweet memories, I turn to address Rob. “Rob, could we meet at eight? I’d like to discuss some things before I meet the other managers.” After I’ve had a chance to prepare more and go through all the documents.
“Of course, Mi—Emilia. Let me know if you need anything beforehand. Here’s my card. You can call me anytime.” Rob gives me a broad smile. He is one motivated employee, but you won’t hear me complaining. I’ll need his guidance and expertise.
“When do you want the press conference to be scheduled?” Mary asks.
“Press conference?”
“Yes, our fans can’t wait to hear more about the Ravelli Group’s engagement with our team. I’ve had several stations call me today, demanding more information.”
Right, a press conference. What if they ask me hockey related questions? Or worse, questions about my so-called social life. “Of course. Maybe… the day after tomorrow. I’d like to talk with everyone in the organization first before we make more public statements.” And with my grandfather. What the hell was he thinking sending me here as unprepared as I am?
Mary nods. “You just let me know when, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Thank you. Another question, is there a who’s who with recent pictures? So many people work for this team, and I’d like to learn as many names as possible. And could one of you please show me the computer system, so I’ll know where to look if I need information? I’d like to have a look at the financial statements of the previous years too.” I sound professional, don’t I? Appearance is everything, and I’ll uphold it as long as possible. Rob and Mary don’t strike me as people who would go behind my back, but my experiences in Rome have made me careful.
Mary claps her hands. “I’ll show you everything. Let’s go to my workstation. We can take the rolls.”
I love her way of thinking.
Before I can so much as blink, she sweeps up the tray and ushers me out of my new office.
Two and a half hours later, my head is ready to explode and I’m bone-tired, but thanks to Mary’s excellent guidance, I know my way around the system. She is a gem, and like Rob, she doesn’t treat me like I’m an unworthy intruder but with openness and respect. For the first time in ages, I wasn’t afraid to ask questions.
After she leads me back to my office, I write down possible questions from management to discuss with my grandfather and send him an email to call me in the morning. Knowing him, it’ll be the middle of the night in Boston when he calls from Rome, but I don’t care. I want this team to succeed—not only because of me, but Mary and Rob have surprised me in the best possible way, and if the other employees are only half as dedicated to this team as these two… I might have a chance to prove to my grandfather that I’m a capable manager.
I also print the current annual report and the ones of the previous years to read later. Then I do the inevitable—I search for Matt’s address in the system. Four clicks later, I know where I can find him. He lives in a hotel in the city center in room 205. Whoever updates this kind of information is thorough. All I have to do is walk inside the hotel and find the room. Piece of cake… if I just didn’t have to talk to him.
I exhale three times before I raise my hand and knock on the door. The moment of truth has arrived; I’m standing right outside Matt’s hotel room. Nothing happens. I stare at my watch and wait for the clock hand to complete another cycle, and then I knock twice again, listening for any sounds from inside the room. Still nothing. Not even the tiniest sound. It’s 8:00 p.m. Maybe he’s out eating somewhere? Something I haven’t been able to accomplish yet, despite my promise to the little one to have a big meal later. But the thought of having to talk to Matt has my stomach in knots.
Third time’s a charm, right? I knock again. I don’t want to face him at the Ice Tigers’ headquarters without having told him about my pregnancy. Tomorrow will be strenuous enough without this elephant looming over me. My heart is pounding in my chest. Whatever happens next will be life altering. Will he want to be involved? Am I going to be a single mom? Will I have to fight him for custody? Does he have a girlfriend? A wife? He didn’t wear a ring, but who knows?
“I didn’t order anything.” His deep voice startles me. It’s weird to hear it again—not that we talked much, but even though his voice is muted by the wooden door and there’s a sharp edge to his tone, I can tell it’s his deep baritone.
“It isn’t room service. Matt, please open up.” Whether it’s my voice he recognizes or curiosity gets the better of him, I’ll never know, but there he is, filling out the doorframe to completion with all his rugged glory, his hair ruffled and his moss-green eyes staring me down.
“Emilia?” His eyes open wide.
Well, at least he remembers my name.
“Can I come in, please?” My eyes meet his.
He closes them for a moment as if to shut me out, but other than that, he doesn’t move. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
As if I didn’t need another reminder, it’s clear he wants nothing to do with me. But this is not only about the two of us anymore. “I just need a minute of your time, Matt. Please, can I come in? I’d rather not have everyone hear what I have to tell you.” I hold his gaze.
He crosses his arms over his broad chest, the muscles bulging underneath his shirt. “If you have something to say, you can say it here.”
I inhale deep
ly and release the air slowly. Why is he making an impossible situation even more difficult? There is no easy way to say this, so I go with the straightforward approach. “I’m pregnant.” I watch his face for any kind of reaction. His eyes open wide, and one wrinkle appears on his forehead. Then his Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows. Twice.
“What?” His voice is a whisper.
I’m pretty sure he understood me perfectly well, but I’m a polite person, so I repeat it. “I. Am. Pregnant.”
He shuts the door in my face.
I blink. Then I blink again. And again. I even close my eyes, but when I open them, the door remains shut. There goes my nonexistent improvisation plan. I look at the door, willing it to open again, but it doesn’t comply. I’m sure this must be a shock to him. He left me without saying goodbye after our night in Positano, so his reaction shouldn’t come as a surprise. But… shouldn’t he be asking a million questions?
I knock on the door. No reaction. No sound from inside the room.
After exactly two minutes, I try again. Still nothing.
I drop my hand and swallow. I’m unsure what to make of Matt. He’s impossible to read, and I don’t know him well enough to judge his reaction.
He may need time. And I can’t make a scene in a hotel. The last thing I need is a headline about the crazy Ravelli heiress. I’ll see Matt tomorrow anyway; he may have calmed down by then.
Not wanting anyone to find me in front of a closed door, I turn to the elevator. Tomorrow will be interesting, to say the least. As far as I know, he doesn’t know my last name and my involvement with his team. It’ll be another shock to him, but I would have told him, had he let me come inside. He’s got only himself to blame for another awkward situation tomorrow. Another crazy day is waiting for me, so I’d better get some food and as much sleep as possible before the inevitable call from my grandfather.
The elevator doors open with a ping, and I step inside. “Us against the world,” I say, placing my hand over my belly while I wait for the doors to close again. “If your daddy doesn’t want us, we’ll make it on our own.”
Chapter 4
Matt
The elevator pings, and I release my breath, listening for the sound of someone stepping inside.
Not someone. Emilia.
The woman I never thought I’d see again. The one whose body I used as a rebound. And left after the best night of my life while she was still asleep.
What would I have told her anyway? “Oh, by the way, this trip was supposed to be my honeymoon, but the slut I was stupid enough to ask to marry me decided one man wasn’t enough for her and banged my good-for-nothing brother while I was on a road trip. Too bad I got injured and found them in bed together. I wanted to fuck her out of my system, and since you looked so innocent and pure and so different from her with your big brown eyes and angelic blonde hair, I took advantage of you.”
A vein in my head throbs, and my blood races through my whole body when I think of Jackie and Jason entangled in my bed. Our bed. Bought and paid for with my money.
I want to punch something. Instead, I plop down to the floor with my back against the cold wooden surface of the door and place my head on my knees, trying to calm my breathing and my racing pulse.
This was supposed to be my year—a year I’d solely concentrate on playing hockey and win the Cup. Life is a cruel bitch. Look at me now. I may or may not have a baby with a woman I’ve only spent one night with and, since that night didn’t involve a lot of words, don’t know at all, character-wise. Her body is an entirely different matter. When I close my eyes, a perfect picture of her soft curves appears, and I feel the silky texture underneath my fingertips. My dick twitches in my pants.
Stop it! I place a hand over the traitor. We had an agreement, remember? No women, no sex. Not until we have the Cup. Then why is my personal life all over the place again? What have I done to deserve this mess?
How did Emilia even find me? I didn’t give her my last name, and hockey isn’t that big in Europe, or is it? Did she plan to seduce a hockey player all along? Is she one of those crazy puck bunnies? I let my guard down with her; have I made the biggest mistake of my life?
She must have some resources. How else has she found out not only my hotel but also my room number? I’ve never had puck bunnies falling all over me in my career, with more handsome and approachable guys on the teams I played for. But some fans have been waiting for me in front of hotels and asked for photos and autographs. Maybe finding my hotel isn’t that hard. But so far, none of those fans have knocked on my door.
Is she a conniving bitch? She looks so pure and innocent, but she might be a great actress. Women are traitorous creatures. My mom. Jackie. And now… Emilia.
Is she even pregnant or does she just want my hard-earned money like Jackie did?
“Wrap your dick.” That’s what coaches tell you once you’re drafted.
I put a condom on before I pushed inside Emilia each time throughout the night—condoms that came straight out of my wallet. I might have been pretty wasted and the condoms might have been in there a while, but….
I sit up and scratch my chin. Since Jackie and I were in a committed relationship and she was on the pill, we hardly ever had to use condoms. How long did I carry the condoms around? I don’t remember the last time I bought them. Could she really be pregnant with my kid?
I wasn’t exactly paying attention while putting it on either, with my hands occupied roaming her sweet curves, impatiently waiting to plunge as deep inside her as she could take me. Once, just once, I let my guard down….
I know nothing about this woman. How am I to know if she’s telling the truth, when I wasn’t even able to judge someone I’d known for more than five years or, in the case of my brother, my whole life?
I jump up and throw open the door.
She’s gone. You even heard the elevator ping, idiot! How the hell am I supposed to contact her now?
I close the door and slide down on the floor again. My world—or what’s left of it—is crashing around me, and I can’t find the Stop button.
I bury my head in my hands. Fuck, I messed up. How the hell could I have anticipated the bomb she just dropped on me? How is a man to react when told he is going to become a father after a one-night stand? I want to rip out my hair. Instead, I rub my temples.
What does she want anyway? Is she going to have the baby? Does she want money? I shake my head, pushing myself off the floor. None of these questions will be answered tonight.
Tomorrow will be the big meeting with the new owner, and I need my head in the game. I can’t afford to be traded to a team, unable of winning the Cup. I’m not getting any younger. Once, just once, I want to hold the big cup in my hands. This season might be the best chance I’ll ever have.
Think, Walker! If Emilia wants money, she’ll try to contact me again, and if money isn’t the driving force… I’ll have to find her. If there’s a kid and the baby is mine, I want to be involved. With enough money and a private investigator, finding her shouldn’t be a big problem. I sigh again and make my way to the bathroom. A cold shower should clear my head.
I plop down on the seat next to Tyler and nod briefly at him and Smithy five minutes before the meeting with our new owner is supposed to begin. I feel like I’ve been run over by a train. Instead of sleeping, I sat in front of the window and stared at the moon, remembering another moonlit night in Italy.
I’ll never touch alcohol again; that’s for sure. Look what my life has become after one drunken one-night stand. I used to be so organized, so in control of things. Look at me now. I have a first-row seat to my own destruction and can’t do anything about it.
“She’s smokin’. A perfect ten.” Michael walks past us to the back of the room. Can this guy talk about anything else but his latest conquest?
“What does she look like?” Peter asks him. Peter is a good guy, but he’s been spending a lot of time with the team whore, and it’s starting to rub of
f.
“Blonde. Not a fake one, but natural, with big brown eyes. And her body, boy, she looks like an underwear model.”
Hell, is the world now infiltrated with women who look like Emilia?
“What’s her name again?” Peter asks.
“Emilia. Emilia Ravelli.” Michael rolls the “R” like a Russian—
Wait. What? It can’t be. She’s blonde, has brown eyes, and her name is Emilia? And she’s from Italy? How many blonde Italian women are there? And her last name is Ravelli? Is that my Emilia’s last name too?
No. No way. No. No, no, no, no, no. Somebody is pulling my leg. Must be. Life can’t be that cruel.
But it can, and it sure as hell is. Because there she is in my peripheral vision, walking to the front of the room next to Rob. My Emilia. My new boss. Emilia Ravelli, the very same woman I shared an unforgettable night with this summer. The very same one claiming to be pregnant with my child. The lower half of my mouth wants to drop to the floor, but I force it shut before I make a spectacle of myself.
Her dark blue business suit looks impeccable and fits her like a second skin, enhancing her beautiful body. Her blonde hair falls in soft curls to just underneath her shoulder blades, and when she turns around, her big brown eyes are accentuated with subtle makeup. Holy mother of God. Emilia is stunning when she wears a sundress and barely any makeup, but this businesswoman version of her is goddess-like. No wonder Michael is salivating over her.
That fucker. If he goes anywhere near her, I’ll tear him apart.
She looks around the room, and her eyes find mine for a split second before she quickly looks away, pretending to scan the crowd. It’s just a brief moment, but my skin tingles. If I could, I’d laugh out loud. How absurd is this situation?
Tyler places his hand on my bobbing knee, and I look up and mouth, Sorry. He raises his eyebrow, but before I can say anything, he turns his attention back to the front where Rob’s smiling at Emilia.
Center of Gravity: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (An Ice Tigers Hockey Romance Book 2) Page 4