“Commendable, but that doesn’t change the fact that you seem to have an alcohol problem. I trust you weren’t sober when you went streaking in downtown Montreal?”
“Actually . . .” Okay, it was really hard not to laugh at that one. Middle of winter, he and a few of the guys had been hanging out with the Habs. The Cobras had a friendly rivalry with the Canadiens. Some French guy had dared Scott to a race down Saint Catherine. Naked.
He never turned down a dare.
Keane shook his head, flattening his hands on the desk. “Scott, I could tolerate these antics from a rookie, do my best to take him in hand. But you’ve been in the league for ten years. You’ve proved to be immature and, frankly, unstable. If it was limited to your actions in public, I would consider giving you a chance to improve your image. Unfortunately, your behavior on the ice is no better. You instigate fights with your own teammates. The amount of penalty minutes you racked up last year is unacceptable. And I’ve never heard of a professional athlete calling in ‘sick’ as often as you have. The only reason I haven’t already traded you is because Silver Delgado made the choice to sign you, and she’s done so much for the team, I can’t believe she would have done that without a good reason.”
The situation looked pretty damn hopeless. There was no point in lying to the guy. Scott slumped in his chair. “She didn’t know much about the game when she signed me. She was told I was good on the ice and figured I’d help change the team’s image. Bring in the younger crowd.”
“You have. But so have other men on the team, and they’ve done so without it reflecting negatively on the whole organization.”
Right. Time to go home and pack. Scott rubbed his hands over his face. “What can I say? I’m willing to change, but the way you’re talking, it’s too late.”
Keane stood, pushed his chair back, and gathered all the newspapers into a neat pile. He reached down, picked up the trash can from under his desk, and set it in front of Scott with a sharp clink. Then he stuffed all the papers into the stainless steel bin.
“Give me one good reason to let you stay.”
Lips parted, mouth dry, Scott gaped up at the man. Why even give him a shot? Why risk millions on someone who could potentially bring the whole team down?
Why question it, man? Give him a reason!
Scott swallowed and lunged to his feet, speaking in a rush. “I already told my image consultant I’d do anything he asked me to. Change my attitude, my clothes, my whole life if it means I can be a Cobra. I want to be with this team when they make the Cup. I want to retire with this team. I’ll take a pay cut if it means I can stay. Just tell me what I have to do and I’ll do it!”
“Why? Why does it matter so much? There are other teams that would have you.”
“Because . . .” He frowned, searching for the truth. And then he found it. “Silver believed in me. She took a lot of flack for it, but she stood by her decision. I need to prove to her that it wasn’t a mistake. That everyone was wrong about me.”
Slapping his hands on the desk, Keane smiled. “That is exactly what I needed to hear. I need to know you have solid motivations to make all these changes. Following your IC’s advice will go a long way in convincing me to offer you a contract. The season doesn’t start for months. I want to see your face in more papers, but I want every article to express what a positive addition you’ve become to the team. I don’t care if you’re kissing babies or setting fashion trends. You will be a man young boys can look up to. Let the other teams hate you. I don’t give a shit how much you chirp on the ice. But your fans, your teammates . . .” He took a deep breath. “They will love you. I won’t accept any less.”
That’s it? Scott’s head reeled at the abrupt shift. It had all seemed utterly hopeless, but in the end, he’d gotten the chance he’d so desperately wanted. His lips moved soundlessly, then he nodded quickly. “I can do that.”
“I’ve faxed your IC a list of appearances I’ve set up for you and several of the other players. Can I trust you to be at each and every one?”
“Absolutely.”
Keane inclined his head. “Very well. You may go.”
Just like that, Scott was dismissed. He thanked Keane again and headed out, practically knocking Sloan Callahan, the team’s captain, on his ass in the hall.
“Watch where you’re fucking going, Demyan.” Callahan snarled before striding into the office and slamming the door behind him.
Scott righted himself, glanced over to the other man who stood by the door, Dominik Mason, the team’s most vicious defenseman, and muttered a vague greeting. Mason spared him a brief glance before pulling out his phone. He sighed and dialed, then spoke softly.
“I’m here, love. Sloan’s with Keane.” He pressed his eyes shut and nodded slowly. “I’ll do what I can, but I can’t promise anything. If he’s determined to . . . I know. But he won’t listen to me—I love you too.”
Leaving Mason, Scott hunched his shoulders and headed to the elevator. The shit going on between Mason and Callahan was pretty serious. Unlike him, they deserved to be here. They’d worked their asses off for this team. Oriana Delgado, Silver’s sister, was a sweet chick. And the trouble with her men made Scott’s seem even more pathetic. He’d brought this on himself. The captain and Mason’s problems stemmed from loving the same woman and barely tolerating one another. Keane was probably trying to convince Callahan to stay.
Scott kinda hoped the owner succeeded. Because the captain was one of the few people Scott respected. One of the people he hoped would be around if he actually managed to pull this off.
* * * *
Dominik rested his head against the pristine white wall of the hall, pressing his eyes shut as Sloan stormed out of the office, slamming the door for a second time. Part of him wanted to go to Sloan, to force him to see they didn’t have to come to this. They loved the same woman. The same team. They could make it work.
But Sloan wouldn’t listen. Things had become tense in the house they shared. Max Perron’s house. Oriana was Max’s wife, and that meant more than the fact that Dominik had collared her, or that Sloan had marked her. No matter how much Oriana cared for them both, she would follow her husband. And Max had done the unthinkable by making leaving the team an option.
It’s not an option for me.
Dominik hauled in as much air as his lungs would hold and pictured Oriana, kneeling before him, pouring her heart out.
“I don’t want to go, but Sloan . . .” Her face crumpled and tears spilled down her cheeks. “Sloan may never play again. I can’t let this be the end for him. He needs me.”
“I need you.” Even on her knees, she had all the power. He’d accepted that when he’d let her into his life. His heart. As long as he shared her with two other men, she would never be his alone. Which felt so wrong as he watched her suffering between the three of them, desperate to please them all. “Tell me what you need me to do.”
“Come with us.”
He’d looked away from her then. That wasn’t what she really wanted. She was telling him what she thought he needed to hear. Nothing would change if he followed her to Calgary with Sloan and Max. He would still be an obstacle. The man who challenged Sloan, who made sure the fucking sadist never pushed too hard, went too far.
But what was too much for Dominik wasn’t too much for Oriana. Her husband might cringe at the marks Sloan left on her, but he simply tended to the wounds and accepted that the extremes satisfied Oriana, so there was nothing wrong with them. Dominik had tried, so very hard, to do the same. But there were times when Sloan sank so deep into his needs as a sadist that he couldn’t handle the aftermath. Which left Dominik holding Oriana, blinking back tears as he carefully bandaged the marks on her body, trying not to hate Sloan for making her bleed. He’d taught Sloan as much as he could, but the pupil had outgrown the teacher. Become a master in his own right. Begun to question everything he’d learned because Oriana needed more.
“Be honest with me, Oriana. Do y
ou really want me to come with you?”
She refused to look at him as she answered. “They need you here.”
“Do you want me to stay behind?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will.”
Eyes, tearing, she blinked, then rested her head against his chest. “This is one of those times where I want you to take control. Where I don’t want to have a choice.”
“Sweetheart, I wish I could tell you what to do.” He kissed her forehead. “But I can’t. Not with this.”
“Mr. Mason?” Keane held the door open for him, then quietly followed him into the office. The door clicked shut, and Dominik took a seat, waiting for Keane to take his place behind the desk.
Instead, Keane stepped in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, hip resting on the edge of the desk. Despite the silver streaking the man’s dark brown hair, something about his bearing made him look younger than forty. He was tall, fit, but not especially muscular. Clean-cut, always well put together, the man had a presence that made it hard not to sit up and take note when he spoke. He’d only had one meeting with the team so far, but already, he’d made quite the impression. Men who’d whispered about “getting out” before the team folded were singing a different tune now.
Except Sloan. But Dominik knew Sloan wasn’t leaving because he’d lost faith in the team. He was leaving because he needed to regain the control he’d lost. Over his career and his personal life. The man wasn’t known for his patience, though it had improved over the years. He wouldn’t let an injury hold him back.
Or another man.
“Do you know why I worked so hard to acquire this team, Mason?”
Dominik frowned. What kind of question is that? “Honestly? You’re a rich man. There aren’t many other teams for sale. I assumed you wanted to own one badly enough you took what you could get. Even if the team fails here, there are other places you could move it to where it would thrive.”
Keane nodded. Chuckled. “Mr. Richter told me you don’t pull any punches, so I appreciate your tact. But there are plenty of teams for sale. I wanted the Cobras, and I’ve been making offers to the Delgado family for years just to get a piece. Ford Delgado—”
“Kingsley.” Dominik ground his teeth. “The little bastard only took on the name to make his new daddy happy.”
“Legally, he is a Delgado. Which is beside the point.” Keane’s tone lightened with amusement. “He’s not too crazy about ‘you kinky fuckers’ either. But he acted in the best interest of the team. Do you know he asked me if I could handle the alternative lifestyle most of the players are involved in? He seemed quite relieved when I told him not only could I handle it, but I could relate to a majority of the players.”
Rubbing his jaw, Dominik laughed. “Really? So you and your wife like to play?”
“No. I’m not married.” Keane gave Dominik a level look. “But I uncollared my slave of five years months ago. My point is that I understand where you’re coming from.”
Rising slowly, Dominik faced the man. “No disrespect, sir, but if you brought me here to discuss my relationship with Oriana, I’m not interested. As openly ‘kinky’ as the team may be, I value my privacy.”
Keane held up his hands in a calming gesture. “I don’t expect you to. But the team needs stability. I asked Mr. Callahan to come here because he is the team’s captain. The uncertainty in his future creates unrest with the men. That is no longer an issue. He is leaving—all that remains are a few contracts to be signed.” His eyes darkened. “I need to know if you are staying. If you are, I’d appreciate your help. The team needs a leader.”
Fuck! Dominik paced away from Keane, then back, shaking his head. “Why me? Ask Richter, or our coach, Tim. I’m the most volatile player on the team. The men expect me to protect them on the ice, to throw my weight around. Not to lead them.” He let out a harsh laugh. “Besides, you have no fucking say in who leads the team.”
“I’ve spoken to both the coach and Richter. Granted, they hadn’t considered you as a suitable captain, but things have changed. They’ve both seen how you handle yourself at the club—”
“The club is not the goddamn ice. I’m not the same man out there.”
“You can be.”
I don’t need this shit! With a few strides, Dominik went up to the window and stared out at the streets below, crowded with cars, tourists, all basking in the blazing summer sun. This place had become home. With Oriana, and Max, and . . . even Sloan. Without them, he had no idea where he belonged. Put him on the ice and he could forget everything else. But now, Keane was asking for more. For renewed dedication in the game, in the team.
He wasn’t sure he had it in him. For the first time, his summer hadn’t been devoted to training, to making himself a better player. He spent every moment he could with Oriana, feeling her slip further and further away from him. His jaw tightened as he blinked against the burning in his eyes. When she’d gone with Sloan and Max to visit Sloan’s father, he’d declined the invitation to join them and headed down to Chicago to visit his mother, spend some time with his sister and his brothers. His mother knew something was wrong. She’d asked him why he hadn’t brought his “sweet girl” with him.
All his life, he’d confided in his mother. There wasn’t much about him she didn’t know. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.
He’d lost his sweet girl to another man.
There wasn’t much left for him besides the game. Keane was giving him an opportunity to focus entirely on the team. Not the imposition it first seemed. Maybe a blessing in disguise.
“I’ll do it.” He kept his back to Keane as he spoke, needing a few moments to compose himself. Accepting the position brought him one step closer to saying goodbye to Oriana. But it was a step he had to take. “Tell me what you need from me. I hope you’ve got a fucking list because I need the distraction.”
Keane stepped up beside him. “I need to ask you to do something rather . . . unconventional for me. But I think you’re up to it.”
“Go on.”
“The Ice Girls are a hit. They’ve kept the spotlight on the team, even after the season ended. But the most talented girl has certain . . . issues. Issues that distract from her abilities.”
“Is she a sub?” Dominik pressed his lips together, not sure he could stomach being involved with a woman, even if it was good for the team. But why else would Keane ask?
“She may be. However, that is irrelevant.” Keane’s lips curved at the edges when Dominik glanced over at him, confused. “I’m no matchmaker. Your skills as a Dom will be useful, but she may be a little young for you. Not that I care if you decide to take her on. All I ask is that you help her get past her fear of men.”
Dominik went perfectly still. “Why is she afraid of men?”
“One can only guess. The Ice Girls will be going on a cruise with several of the players. The media will be watching them. I want her on the Ice Girl team, but she won’t make it if she’s so afraid she won’t let cameras catch the beautiful, outgoing woman I know she can be.” Keane went back to his desk. “You are already scheduled for the trip, but I’d like you to work with her beforehand. I can give you suggestions if you’d like?”
“I can manage.” Dominik tugged his suit sleeves straight. “Let me guess. The girl is Akira Hayashi.”
“Yes.”
Cute kid. Shy, but a vision on the ice. She couldn’t be more than twenty. Way too young for Dominik—even though Oriana was only five years older. He recalled the way she’d cringed the last time a male reporter had approached her in a crowded room. Whatever had happened to the girl was serious enough that it affected every aspect of her life. Getting her past that would be a challenge. It would take time. Thankfully, he had plenty of that.
“Leave it to me.” Dominik arched a brow at a timid tap at the door. The girl in question peeked in, her olive green eyes wide. Keane didn’t look all that surprised to see her. Dominik scowled. “You knew I’d agree.”<
br />
“I know what kind of man you are,” Keane said under his breath, waving Akira in. “And you need this as much—if not more—than she does.”
“You wanted to see me, sir?” Akira fidgeted with the buttons of her crisp, beige jacket. The way she lowered her gaze brought to mind every natural submissive Dominik had ever met. Yet nothing about her stirred anything besides his protective instincts. The way she hovered near the door, as though ready to run out to something—or someone—who could keep her safe had him crossing the room to stand between her and Keane before his brain could catch up. Being in here alone with Keane, despite the man’s good intentions, was the last thing she needed.
Akira trembled as Dominik approached. The door was still open a crack. Dominik pulled it open all the way, biting back a laugh as he caught sight of Jami Richter, the general manager’s daughter and Akira’s best friend, standing close enough to the door to listen in.
“If you’d like me to deal with the girls, Mr. Keane, then perhaps I should get started.” Dominik gave Jami a slow smile as she skidded backward into the hall. “Your instructions are clear. Please excuse us.”
Keane nodded and took a seat behind his desk, looking over some folders. “Miss Hayashi, I had planned to introduce you to your new sponsor. I’m sure you are aware that several girls have players in that position for either financial or moral support?”
Did they? This was the first Dominik had heard of it. Ice Girls on other teams weren’t so closely involved with the players. Not that the Cobras followed the norm in any way.
“A couple of girls do, sir, but . . .” Akira squared her shoulders. “My parents are quite capable of supporting me. And I just put in an application—”
“I’m sorry, my dear, but you will not have time for a job.” Keane folded his hands on the desk, his tone low and full of compassion. “Akira, your father called me to ask if there was any financial aid available. It is becoming difficult for your parents to pay for you to stay here. You have a bright future with the team. I would fund you myself if it wasn’t a conflict of interest while you are still competing, but since that is not an option, I strongly suggest you accept Mr. Mason’s generous offer.”
Offside Page 8
