His jaw clenched at the sight of his childhood nemesis, Jöran Axelsson, being interviewed after his team beat Winnipeg.
“Congratulations on tonight’s big win,” the reporter was saying. “You had a great game and really made your presence felt out there.”
“That’s why they brought me on board,” Jöran boasted in his thick Swedish accent. The prick never missed a chance to toot his own horn. “They knew I would make an immediate impact on the team.”
“Well, you’ve definitely proved to be a huge offseason acquisition for Tampa Bay.” The reporter grinned. “You guys aren’t scheduled to play the Denver Rebels until February. How much are you looking forward to facing off against your childhood rival, Viggo Sandström?”
Jöran laughed. “I have the date circled on my calendar.”
“You’re not alone,” the reporter said gleefully. “Lots of hockey fans are eagerly counting down the days until your matchup with Viggo and the Rebels. But I just gotta ask. Are you ready to take on The Rocket? As you know, his physical style of play and punishing hits have made him one of the league’s most intimidating D-men. You know he’s probably salivating at the chance to give you a good smackdown.”
Jöran flashed a cocky, gap-toothed grin. “Do I look worried?”
“No, but maybe you should be.”
“Nah,” Jöran scoffed dismissively. “I can handle Reid Holden.”
“What about your old rival? Can you handle his explosive speed and dominant playmaking? The guy’s a scoring machine.”
Jöran smirked. “I’ve been competing against Viggo since we were seven years old. Go look up our records and see who has the better winning percentage. Hint: It’s not him.”
The reporter grinned, eager to fan the flames. “Some would argue that Viggo has nothing to prove. He was a first round draft pick at age nineteen while you just signed your first NHL contract over the summer. Viggo’s having the best season of his career and he was just voted Central Division captain for the All-Star Game.”
Jöran snorted. “Of course the fans love him. He’s a pretty boy. That’s why he gets all those magazine covers and endorsement deals. As for his so-called greatness, get back to me when he finally wins the Cup.”
The reporter was eating up every word. “Viggo says he’s not interested in engaging in what he calls ‘WWE antics.’ He called your smack talk cheesy and lame, and he seems pretty unfazed by the shots you’ve been taking at him. If he was standing in front of you right now, what would you say to him?”
Jöran looked directly into the camera and said in Swedish, “It’s been a long time, my friend. I’m looking forward to our reunion. Hope you’re ready to get your ass kicked for old times’ sake.”
Viggo’s mouth curled in a sneering smile. “See you soon, motherfucker.”
As the camera cut back to the studio, he punched off the TV and tossed the remote onto the sofa cushion beside him.
If there was one lesson he’d learned from his grandfather, it was never let an opponent get in your head. The media loved to fuel a good rivalry and get both sides worked up because it was good for ratings. But Viggo refused to rise to the bait. Getting into a war of words with Jöran might excite fans and provide good pregame hype, but he preferred to let his on-ice performance speak for itself.
Anyway, Jöran was the least of his concerns right now. Since leaving Cincinnati this morning, he’d been obsessed with learning more about Myles Katsaros. He’d had Wi-Fi issues on the plane, but now that he was home, he could do all the sleuthing he wanted.
So he pulled out his phone and plugged Myles’s name into Google. The first link on the results page took him to the website of Myles Katsaros Management Group, also known as MKMG. The company represented a number of artists ranging from the obscure to the semi-famous. Viggo scanned the client list, annoyed to realize he’d bought some of their music. Which meant he’d put money in their scumbag manager’s pocket.
He clicked around the site and read Myles’s bio, scowling at his smarmy picture. Just looking at the bastard’s face made him feel homicidal. The thought of Myles and Scarlett as lovers was even more rage-inducing.
Gritting his teeth together, he went back to the search results and started clicking link after link, trying to learn everything he possibly could about Myles. Under Google Images he found dozens of pictures of him with his clients and other popular artists at the Grammys, American Music Awards and Billboard Music Awards. He’d apparently dated a few singers, models and B-list actresses.
Halfway down the page, Viggo came to an old photo of Myles and Scarlett. It had been taken a few years ago at a meet and greet with fans. Myles had his arm around Scarlett’s waist, and she was smiling at him. Adoringly.
Viggo glared at the picture, jealousy twisting his gut.
What the hell had happened between those two? He needed the full story, but something told him he’d be waiting a long damn time to get any answers from Scarlett. And that put him in an even darker mood.
Brooding, he went to her Instagram to check her latest activity. She’d posted several new pictures from last night. One had been taken at the restaurant with Reid and Nadia. The four of them were huddled around their booth, laughing and making silly faces at the camera. The selfie was hashtagged #doubledate. It had a gazillion likes and comments.
Even more popular was a photo of Viggo and Scarlett smooching under the restaurant’s awning while they waited for the valet to bring the car around. It had just started raining when he pulled her close, palmed her face and kissed her. She’d melted right into him, looping her arms around his neck and lifting one foot off the ground. The photo looked perfectly romantic, like it could have been staged. But they’d been totally oblivious to Nadia snapping their picture.
Scarlett had hashtagged the photo #kissingintherain #thismanrighthere #makingmeweak #myboo.
Viggo grinned broadly, his mood improving. Skimming through the comments, he saw a lot of congratulatory “Get it girl” and “Yasss Queen” remarks. Someone posted a link to fan art featuring Misty Knight and Danny Rand aka Iron Fist. Viggo saved the kissing picture to his phone and bookmarked the page with the impressive fan art.
Scarlett had also posted a group photo of Off The Grid and Black Kross. The picture had been taken backstage after the concert. The two bands looked totally badass with their heads cocked back like gangsters, Scarlett standing in the middle as the only woman. The photo caption read: Just wrapped up an amazing tour with Black Kross! Thanks to all the wonderful fans who braved the cold and showed up to rock out with us! To the bad boys of Black Kross, thanks for sharing your stage with us. We’ll cherish these memories 4ever!
The photo had thousands of likes and comments. The outpouring of love and support from fans made Viggo smile like a proud papa.
Swigging from his water bottle, he scrolled through more pictures. He found himself chuckling at the playful images that chronicled Scarlett and her bandmates on tour. They were laughing and horsing around, pulling pranks, stuffing their faces with food, rocking out during a jam session, and napping on one another’s shoulders between gigs. They were obviously very close, sharing a tight bond that came through in their music and when they were onstage together. They’d probably be lost without one another.
Viggo finished his water as he continued scrolling through Scarlett’s IG pictures. He’d been following her for months, so he’d already seen all of her older pics. One of his favorites featured her and Nadia and twenty of their cousins at a charity ball honoring classic black cinema stars. Wearing glamorous evening gowns with elegant retro hairstyles, the cousins were lined up along a grand staircase, eleven on each side. They looked like they belonged on the cover of some vintage magazine. They were fucking gorgeous, every last one of them.
Viggo couldn’t get enough of the picture. Neither could Reid, Logan or Hunter.
Scrolling some more, Viggo stopped at a photo of Scarlett posing with a group of Japanese Harajuku girls during a to
ur stop in Tokyo. They were all wearing bright-colored mismatched outfits. Scarlett had on a midriff-baring Def Leppard tee, a pink polka-dot miniskirt, striped thigh-high stockings and Mary Jane platforms with chunky high heels. Her Mohawked hair was streaked with rainbow highlights. Her makeup was just as wild: bright red blush, white eyeliner and white mascara that made her doe eyes look like an anime character’s, and two-toned lipstick—pink on top and blue on bottom.
The whole getup was outrageously loud and garish. It was also totally hot.
Viggo saved the pic to his phone, making a mental note to have Scarlett model the outfit for him sometime.
Just then his phone buzzed in his hand. When he saw that Reid was calling, he swiped the answer button. “Wassup.”
“Hey,” Reid grumbled. “I just saw Jöran’s interview. What a fucking asshole.”
Viggo chuckled. “He always has been.”
“You know I’m gonna fuck him up, right?”
“I wouldn’t expect otherwise,” Viggo drawled. “But don’t send him out on a stretcher, man. Remember he’s my kill.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” Reid chuckled darkly. “Speaking of assholes, have you finished compiling a dossier on the douchey ex?”
Viggo scowled. “I’m working on it.”
“I bet you are.” Reid sounded amused. “Let me know if you want Colt to run a background check on him. He’s a cop, so he can get the dirt.”
“I just might take you up on that,” Viggo muttered.
“You should. I know I would. But if it makes you feel any better, Nadia says Scarlett’s completely over the guy. He did a real number on her, but she’s moved on.”
Viggo’s eyes narrowed. “Did Nadia give any specific details?”
“Nah. Not really. She says Scarlett is a closed book. But just give her time, and she’ll open up to you when she’s ready.”
Viggo frowned. This wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
“Anyway,” Reid went on, “my fridge is empty as fuck, but Nadia wants me to wait for her to get home so we can go grocery shopping together.”
“Aww,” Viggo teased. “Look at you two playing house. How cute.”
Reid laughed. “Shut up.”
Viggo grinned. “Poor Mrs. Keller,” he lamented, referring to Reid’s housekeeper. “She’s been shopping and cooking for you all these years. Now she has to adjust to having another woman around, telling her what she can and can’t do.”
“I know,” Reid said with a chuckle. “It’s gonna be tough for her. But she really likes Nadia, so that should make things easier. Anyway, have you had lunch?”
“Nah, not yet. My fridge is as bare as yours.”
“Let’s grab something to eat before the meeting.”
“I’m down. Usual spot?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool. See you there.”
* * *
Audrey was waiting for Viggo when he and his teammates emerged from the meeting that evening. She stood at the end of the hallway laughing and talking with her uncle. She wore a tight V-neck sweater and tight blue jeans with spiked black heels.
Viggo, Reid, Logan and Hunter spotted her at the same time.
“Warning,” Reid muttered. “Danger ahead.”
“Seriously.” Hunter gave Viggo a look of amused concern. “Do you have a stalker problem?”
“Possibly,” he said grimly.
“I don’t envy you, bro,” Logan said sympathetically. “But look on the bright side. If the GM tries to trade you, the whole state of Colorado will riot.”
“No kidding.” Hunter chuckled. “Not that Landrieu would ever allow it. Neither would Coach.”
“Very true.” Logan grinned. “But if Audrey turns out to be Single White Female crazy, Viggo might end up begging for a trade. Assuming she doesn’t stab him in the eye first with one of those stilettos she’s wearing.”
Viggo shuddered at the thought and then scowled at Logan. “Why? Just why?”
The others laughed.
As they neared the end of the hallway, Audrey flicked her blond hair over her shoulder and flashed a megawatt smile at them. “Hey, guys. How’s it going?”
They murmured greetings to her and the GM.
McCaskill glowered at Viggo. He’d been doing that a lot lately. It was getting old.
Audrey’s gaze locked onto Viggo. “My uncle told me you guys had a team meeting, so I just thought I’d try to catch you before you got away. Can we talk?”
“Sure,” Viggo muttered.
The others gave him pitying looks before saying their goodbyes and leaving. Viggo envied the hell out of them.
Audrey smiled sweetly at her hovering uncle. “Can you give us a minute?”
McCaskill frowned at Viggo, then nodded curtly and stalked off.
Viggo shook his head after him before returning his attention to Audrey. She was staring at him like she wanted to run her fingers through his hair and give him a kiss. It was unnerving.
“I left you a message the other day,” he told her.
“You did?”
He wasn’t fooled by her surprised tone. “Are you saying you didn’t get it?”
“I didn’t,” she insisted. “I’ve been so busy finalizing everything for the bachelor auction, your message probably got lost in the shuffle.”
Convenient. “As I said in my—”
“Speaking of the bachelor auction,” she interrupted brightly, “I just wanted to go over a few details with you. As you know, the auction is on Saturday—”
“Got that.”
“—and it will be followed by a luncheon at the country club. You’re supposed to stay for the luncheon to mingle and talk to reporters and pose for pictures with the lucky gal who wins a date with you. As for the date, it has to happen within ten days of the auction. I thought that was reasonable given your hectic travel schedule. Does that work for you?”
“Sure,” Viggo muttered.
“Awesome!” Audrey beamed. “Everyone’s really looking forward to the auction. Our ticket sales skyrocketed once you were added to the lineup of bachelors.” She winked. “Even my mother might bid on you.”
Viggo frowned as Scarlett’s warning whispered through his mind. What’s to stop her from getting a proxy to bid on you on her behalf?
Audrey put her hand on his arm. “I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to do the auction. The money we’re going to raise—”
“Why did you tell your uncle we’re still seeing each other?”
Audrey blinked one too many times. “What?”
“He thought we were still dating,” Viggo said evenly. “Where’d he get that idea?”
“Not from me!” She gave a hollow laugh. She was lying through her perfect little teeth. “My uncle is, like, super protective of me. He probably heard what he wanted to hear.”
Viggo just watched her, letting her squirm before he spoke again. “It’s important for you to understand that we won’t be going on any more dates. I want to make that as clear as possible to you and your uncle.”
“You have,” Audrey said bitterly. “Believe me, I got the message loud and clear.”
“Are you sure?”
Her blue eyes flashed with anger. “Of course I’m sure.”
“Good.” Viggo’s tone was firm. “You should know that I’m seeing someone. Her name is Scarlett—”
“I know that,” Audrey snapped, rolling her eyes. “You two haven’t exactly been shy about broadcasting your relationship to the whole fucking world.”
His lips twitched. “Is that what we’ve been doing?”
She shot him an icy glare. “You replaced the team’s entrance song with her band’s music. You kissed her outside the locker room after your game. You told a roomful of reporters you were going to show up at her concert to surprise her. You’re hugging her and sticking your tongue down her throat everywhere you go, and she’s tweeting you love letters.”
Viggo couldn’t help chuckling. “Point taken.”
/>
Audrey flipped her hair back. “I just hope you know what you’re doing,” she said in a snotty voice. “My uncle thinks your relationship is going to be a distraction. He thinks you’re going to lose focus.”
“Hmm.” Viggo cocked his head to one side, considering her. “I wonder if he’d feel the same way if I was dating you?”
Audrey’s mouth tightened. She knew the answer. They both did.
“I’m perfectly capable of playing hockey and having a girlfriend,” Viggo drawled. “But tell your uncle I appreciate his concern.”
Audrey gave him another one of those death stares.
As he walked out the door and headed toward his truck, his eye started twitching. He found himself glancing over his shoulder just to make sure Audrey wasn’t following him.
Thanks to Logan, he was paranoid about taking a fucking stiletto to the eyeball.
Chapter 26
Scarlett
The Highest Bidder
* * *
Led zeppelin blasted out of Scarlett’s phone as she stepped through her front door on Tuesday evening.
Traeger was calling. Again.
For the past two days, he and the others had been taking turns calling her practically every hour on the hour. She’d let each call go to the purgatory of voicemail. Traeger’s latest attempt to reach her met the same fate.
She was still hurt and angry over the way things had gone down in Cincinnati. She wasn’t ready to make nice yet.
“Scarlett?” her mother called from the kitchen. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, Ma. It’s me.” She hung her leather jacket in the foyer closet, dropped her handbag on the console table and headed into the kitchen.
Her mother stood at the stove turning over a piece of fish in the pan. The tantalizing aroma permeated the large room and reminded Scarlett that she hadn’t eaten in hours.
Her mother looked over her shoulder and smiled warmly. “Hey, baby. How was work?”
“Slow. Now that the mad holiday rush is over, we didn’t have many customers. I spent most of the day doing inventory.” Scarlett walked over and kissed her mother’s cheek, then looked down at the sizzling golden pieces of fish. “Pan-seared tilapia. Yum.”
The Swede Page 38
