Enforcer (Seattle Sharks Book 2)

by Samantha Whiskey

  “You have so little faith in me?”

  “I have the utmost confidence in you, darling. It’s the greasy paparazzi who take an innocent image and tarnish it into something wretched, and even if the story isn’t true, it only takes the hint of immorality to bring everything we’ve worked for crashing down.”

  “You don’t have to keep lecturing me. I’m not a teenager.” I’d heard the speech too many times, and the thoughts plagued me on a daily basis—I didn’t need it thrown in my face, too.

  “You’re old enough and smart enough to do what you want. I only want you to be crystal clear on the stakes at risk if you decide to bring that kind of heat on yourself.”

  My head spun in all different directions, my father’s words giving me whiplash. As a dad, he supported my right to choose to do what I pleased. As a C.E.O. he warned me off anything that would come close to putting the company at risk.

  I knew damn well my father could say I had a choice all he wanted, but it was the choice he’d make that he’d approve of.

  “It’s not just your image or even the company’s at risk,” he continued when I hadn’t responded. I slit my eyes, catching the tone he often used in the boardroom right before he slammed an ultimatum on the table that no one would dare argue with or try to negotiate out of. He stepped closer to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I want you to think very carefully about this before you get in too deep with him.”

  “Father,” I said, matching his tone in a don’t push me threat.

  “Like I said you’re your own woman. And who you choose to date is up to you, but know this,” he dropped his hand. “If that young man has one slip while you are in his presence—one more brawl off the ice, one more incident where he is carted off to jail—I’ll cut funding to your pet project. There are consequences when you make foolish choices, Paige.”

  I gasped, stepping away from him as if he’d stung me. Anger boiled my blood, but I kept my spine straight and my breath even. “The company and its funding will be mine in three months.”

  Father sighed, tilting his head. “As long as I still think you’re capable of running it seamlessly. You take up with this celebrity party-boy and let him sully your reputation this close to the transition? I won’t retire. And there will be no more bank for the shelter you’re building.”

  The sting deepened in the center of my chest. I’d seen him use an incredibly stern hand in too many mergers to count, but I’d never expected him to be so strict with me. Not now. Not after everything I’d worked for and proven to him. He’d just taken my arrangement with Rory and upped the ante surrounding it. I never thought the project of my heart would be at risk. For a few fleeting seconds the prospect of ending it before it’d really even began filtered through my mind.

  Then, after a few deep breaths, I realized I believed in Rory far too much for that. Plus, there was no denying our connection—contract or not. I wouldn’t give up on him so easily, no matter what my father threatened. I wouldn’t be the business woman I was today if I fled at the drop of a few harsh words from an older man.

  “We should continue if we want to make the rounds on all ten production floors today.” I decided to ignore his threat altogether and pressed on to the next think-tank room, effectively ending the conversation. Knots twisted in my shoulders and the tension created an ache at the base of my neck. Father didn’t have a clue what had happened between Rory and I—not truly—and I shuddered, thinking of what he’d say if he knew the exact circumstances surrounding our attachment.

  Or how close I was to saying screw the rules and the risks and the constant looking over my shoulder, and simply dive the fuck in.

  We ended the day on the tasting floor, sampling several new batches of our all organic baby food line. It amazed me, the talent we held within the walls of our building, and their abilities to constantly surprise and impress me. The successful approach of combining the freshest, most vibrant ingredients and convenient packaging—all while making sure the food wasn’t the slightest bit bland—lifted my spirits considerably.

  The conversation with my father still weighed on my mind. I had teams of unbelievable people counting on me, and that wasn’t something to stress over. It wasn’t a burden. It was a privilege, an honor. And I knew I’d do my best to accommodate all the wishes of my heart as best as I possibly could—taking care of my employees, giving life to my shelter development, and, hopefully, my commitments to Rory as well.

  Friday came at the end of a particularly long week—one because of my father’s need to prep and grill me on connections and obligations of the company which I’d known for years, and two, because I’d been completely unsuccessful at drowning out my cravings.

  Rory Jackson cravings.

  And I hated to admit it, but it wasn’t all entirely sexual fantasy either. I found myself wondering what he really liked to do for fun—if it went beyond the booze, brawls, and hockey the media constantly reported on.

  I walked into Nine’s a little after five o’clock, the place hopping with activity as opposed to the other night when I’d come much later in the evening. I’d contemplated going home and cracking open the laptop to continue the work week, but I’d quickly dismissed the idea. I’d worked overtime this week, and I needed a drink in the biggest way.

  There was shockingly a two-top table available, and I sighed as I sank into the plush chair Jeannine had picked out herself before opening the restaurant. She’d gone over the details with a microscope, controlling every choice in her business from the fisherman who supplied her to the type and weight of the silverware. Nine’s had a modern style that wasn’t pretentious like some fine-dining options tended to be in the city, and it offered a cozy environment where one could eat and drink without cause to put on airs. It was perfectly and absolutely Jeannine’s, and I had asked for many pieces of advice when devising my own business plans for the shelter.

  “Hi, Paige.” A waitress named Olivia who waited on me often set down a scotch and soda in front of me. “Are you dining tonight?”

  “Yes. Please tell Jeannine to surprise me.” I smiled as I brought the drink to my lips.

  “Will anyone else be joining you?” Olivia eyed the empty chair across from me.

  I shook my head, and she dashed off to the kitchen. I swirled the liquor in my glass, inhaling the sharp scent, and relished the tension it soothed as the scotch slid down my throat. I kept my cell secured in my bag and hung it on the handle of the chair, resisting the urge to hop on the media-sites and hunt for Rory sightings. I had seen several pictures of us together—outside the Shark’s locker room and outside my company’s event as well, along with the rumored stories of our relationship, too. We hadn’t even had sex yet, and I was turning into a borderline puck bunny, searching for news about him in between actually seeing the man. I contemplated attending the Shark’s game next week but quickly quashed the idea. I didn’t fully understand what it was about me, or if it had just been that particular day, but I wasn’t going to distract him ever again.

  I jolted in my seat when another x-rated fantasy clouded my mind, reminding me of the one thing I needed to take just in case I ever did get to make the fantasy a reality. I reached into my purse and grabbed my birth control, cursing myself for getting so caught up in work today I’d forgotten to take it with lunch like I normally did. Oh well, I suppose there was one good thing about Rory’s painfully slow pace with me.

  One drink later Olivia set down two wedge salads.

  “I know Jeannine thinks I don’t eat enough greens but this is a little much, don’t you think?”

  “It’s for your guest.”

  “Oh, I apologize, you must’ve misunderstood me. No one is joining—”

  “Whew. Just in time. Glad you didn’t start without me.” Rory’s voice cut me off as he approached my table, slinging his black leather jacket off and handing it to Olivia’s outstretched hands. Had to give the girl credit, she didn’t giggle or stammer, simply nodded and took it to th
e check room. I suppose she was much more accustomed to waiting on celebrities than I was.

  Rory sat across from me, instantly picking up his fork and knife, slicing himself a bite of the wedge salad Olivia had set there for him. As if it was normal. As if we’d planned a date. My heart rate doubled like I was back in high school with my first crush.

  He took a quick sip of my scotch, grinning at me over the rim. “How was your day, dear?”

  Butterflies flapped in my stomach at the sight of his damn smile and those blue eyes locked onto mine. I laughed despite trying not to. “I’m not sure romantic pet names will ever sound normal coming out of your mouth.”

  He shrugged, taking another bite. “You’ve got me there…Red.”

  I licked my lips and took another drink, suddenly needing the liquid courage. He signed a contract to be yours in all kinds of delicious ways for three months! You’re beyond dating nerves!

  “You really want to know about my day?” I asked, tinkling the ice in my glass.

  “Absolutely. Then I can vent about mine. Isn’t that how a relationship works?” He cocked an eyebrow at me, sliding the fork over his lips so slowly I shifted in my seat.

  “From what I can remember,” I said. It had been years, but honestly, I hadn’t had a real relationship in my life. Every single man had treated me with the wholesome, moralistic, political gloves that surrounded my family. They wanted to be president someday, not fuck me until my eyes rolled back in my head. It wasn’t even that they put me on a pedestal as much as it was that I was a step on their ladder of success. Rory was different—he might need me to help his image, but his success was his own, and that was something I fiercely admired.

  “You’re blushing. Again. Something about your workday get you there?” He teased, and I cleared my throat.

  “No. It was rather stressful actually.” I went on to tell him more than just about today’s problems, but the days prior as well. Including when my father had dropped the hammer about what he’d do if Rory and I screwed this up. That little tidbit had Rory’s signature crease cinching between his brow for far longer than I’d ever seen before. “In relationships, usually the other person says something,” I said after I’d finished venting. “You know, something like hang in there or you did everything right.”

  A soft smile wiped the crease away just as Olivia cleared our entrée plates. “I’ve never been in one so excuse me while I catch up on this crash course.”

  “Never?” I asked, genuinely shocked. “Not even before you became a coveted Shark?”

  He pressed his lips together, finishing his ice water. “Nope.”

  “I can’t tell if that is totally fitting for you, or kind of sad.” I chuckled. “Who am I kidding? You’re Rory Jackson. Of course it’s fitting.” I shook my head, my hair brushing my shoulders. Just because I was feeling a deeper connection to the man than what our contract entailed didn’t mean the renowned player was reciprocating.

  “And what if it wasn’t fitting?” He asked, his tone soft and yet gruff. “What if I simply hadn’t met someone who I could see a future with?”

  I nodded, setting my drink down. “That would make sense.”

  He parted his lips, something on the tip of that magical tongue of his but Oliva popped up tableside to ask if we wanted dessert, and he clamped his mouth shut. I denied despite knowing Jeannine would send something regardless.

  “Rory?” I asked after his crystal blue eyes had stared at the contents of his glass for far too long. He blinked a few times, a deep breath forcing his perfect chest to move down.

  “You should shred the contract.”

  “What?” I choked the word out as if he’d stolen the breath from my lungs. I regained my composure and locked eyes with him. “Are you having second thoughts?” My chest clenched at the mere thought. Shit. We hadn’t had sex yet, and already I was mourning his potential loss. I was in too deep, and we hadn’t truly begun.

  “Hell no,” he snapped, drowning out my panicked thoughts. “But…”

  “I hate that word.” Nothing good ever followed it. Not in business, not in life.

  “You’ve got so much to lose, Paige.” The use of my proper name versus his preferred Red had my stomach sinking. He raked his fingers through his blond hair. “You really want to risk it on a fuck up like me?”

  I pursed my lips, clucking my tongue at him like he had me before. “Rory, insecurity doesn’t suit you.”

  “I’m serious. I’ve got…” he leaned his head closer to me and lowered his voice. “An anger problem.”

  I gasped, feigning shock.

  “Look, I know it’s not a shock, but you have to know it’s gotten me into trouble more times than I can count. I’d fucking hate myself if I slipped and you lost your dream.”

  I reached across the table, laying my hand over his. “I don’t know where this anger stems from…” I eyed him, giving him an opening to explain if he wanted to. He didn’t so I continued. “And I’m a good listener if you ever want to let me in on that little secret, but you have to stop selling yourself so damn short, Rory.”

  His eyes widened, glancing from our joined hands and back to me as if he didn’t know how to respond.

  “You have to know I’m an investor,” I said, smirking. “I don’t get involved in deals I know will go south. You are a good deal, Rory. Hell, you may be the best contract I’ve ever struck.” A flush danced across my cheeks. “Well, I suppose the determining factor is yet to be…experienced.”

  He licked his lips, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb. “You’re incredible. You know that, Red?”

  I chuckled. “Now you’re just trying to get on my good side.”

  “I’d like to be on whatever side you’ll allow me in on.” He licked a stray drop of water off the corner of his lip, and I shifted in my seat.

  “Truly?” I asked, wondering if I’d read too much into his words. A single nod had my heart flying with anticipation.

  “Can I get you two anything else?” Olivia asked as she approached our table.

  “Check.” We both said in unison.

  Chapter 9

  Rory

  Damn it. That annoying tightening in my gut was back as I unlocked the door to my loft and motioned Paige inside. Instinct begged me to strip her of her blazer and dress slacks and fuck her against the island in my kitchen. My mouth watered just thinking about it, but my muscles weren’t working properly. Where I should be jerking her to me the second she set foot inside my place, I was frozen in the entryway, silently hoping she liked it—hoping she liked me.

  What the hell, man? You brought her here for one thing! She has practically begged you for it for weeks. If all I had was three months with this girl—hell, less than that now—then I needed to make the best of every single minute.

  “This is gorgeous,” she said, popping the bubble of silence that had threatened to steal what little manhood I still possessed. What the fuck was wrong with me?

  I glanced down at my dick, giving him a silent pep talk I’d never needed to before. I’d never waited this long to sleep with a woman, or gotten as close as I had to Paige. Maybe that was the problem. I was used to a quick roll in the sheets before I disappeared into the night, leaving the girls with nothing but a smile and a hotter than hell memory. Each of them knew what they were getting into with me—hell, every blog and gossip site had done the dirty work for me, constantly painting me as the Bruce Wayne of the Sharks.

  Paige was different. This wouldn’t be one and done. Not even close. And it scared the shit out of me.

  “The view is stunning,” she said, slowly slipping out of her blazer and dropping it over the arm of my leather sofa as she passed it. She flipped her hair over her shoulder as she reached the floor to ceiling glass doors that lead out to the balcony of my high-rise, grinning at me. “Being a Shark pays off.”

  I chuckled, shoving my hands in my pockets as I only met her halfway, keeping my distance from her as if touching her would b
urn me. “I overpaid for this place because of that view.” I nodded toward the sparkling lights that lit up the city on the horizon, the night sky black as ink behind it.

  She turned toward me. “It must be an instant hit with the bunnies. Bring them up here, take them out there and boom, panties dropped, huh?”

  I shook my head. The woman never ceased to surprise me. I never knew what would come out of her mouth and it kept me on my toes more than any chick ever had. “Wouldn’t know.”

  “Ah,” she said, pressing her lips together as her eyes trailed my body. “I suppose you wouldn’t need a view like this to get a woman into bed.”

  The nerves in my gut twisted. I needed a fucking drink, but I hadn’t had more than one since Coach had ridden me about the game last week. “I’ve never brought another woman up here.”

  Paige’s red hair trembled as she laughed like I’d cracked a joke. “Yeah, okay.”

  I shrugged. “Unless you count Lettie.”

  She glanced around the apartment. “The only woman who has seen your place is Gage’s four-year-old?”

  I took a step closer to her, licking my lips. “And now, you.”

  The laughter left her eyes, and she sucked in a shaken breath. I didn’t need to explain how bringing her here meant more than the terms of our contract, she could see it in my eyes. The woman missed nothing, and honestly, I was getting tired of trying to keep her out.

  I finally reached out to her, touching the soft skin of her cheek. “Tell me what you want,” I said, wrapping my other hand around the back of her neck, planting slow kisses against the line of her jaw. She arched against me, her breasts lightly grazing my chest and the move shot heat straight to my dick.

  “You,” she said, her voice breathless as I lightly trailed my tongue down her neck.

  I locked eyes with her, finally shaking off the newness of seducing a woman in my place—a woman that mattered to me, whether I wanted to admit it or not—and smirked. “Not enough. I need more.”