Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2)

by Bianca Sommerland

  "Good. He's finalizing a trade for a new defenseman. I don't need you distracting him."

  "I know, Daddy. He told me. And we've already agreed he'd handle that side of the business." She glanced at the blueprints. "Actually, I'm working on some of those renovations you asked me to look into—"

  "Good. That's what you should be doing." He actually sounded pleased. "Make everything pretty, my little doll. Just not too pretty. You can do that, right?"

  "Yes, Daddy."

  "Wonderful." He paused. "And when you get home, I'd like you to end things with Richter. I'm not sure why you'd even want to mess around with a man like him—he's not interested in your party life and you can't pretend to be his type of woman for long, can you, my dear?"

  Her eyes stung. "I'm not pretending."

  "Of course you are. It took me awhile to realize it, but you do have some skill as an actress. He'll see through you soon enough. Imagine the damage it will do to the team if you drag this out."

  He's wrong, he's wrong, he's wrong! She hit her thigh with her fist. "I love him!"

  "I seriously doubt that. You're like your mother, Silver. You love his power. His money. Not that you need either, I've given you more than enough, but your mother was the same way. Always wanting more. The only person she ever loved was herself."

  "That's not true! She loved us. Antoine, Oriana, me, and you!" A lead ball lodged in her throat, heavy, hard, impossible to swallow. "You didn't know her and you don't know me!"

  He laughed and she swore she could hear him clapping. "Emmy worthy, my little doll—"

  Doll. That's what he always called me. How he always saw me. And mom. Something inside her snapped. "I'm not a fucking doll!"

  "Watch your tone, young lady," he said, his tone cold. "You will show me the respect I deserve."

  "Fine." She held up the phone and pressed end. Her eyes widened and she tripped backwards, dropping the phone as she fell. Oh my god! I just hung up on Daddy.

  But he deserved it. He shouldn't have said those things about her mother. He could be so . . . .so . . .

  She couldn't find a word for it. But she did know one thing.

  That was the last call she'd be accepting from her father for a very long time.

  The decision made her feel a little stronger, but she couldn't seem to stop shaking. She crawled to the desk and grabbed her purse. Took out a pack of Twizzlers and a lollypop. Then her vial.

  I don't want this. I don't need it.

  It took all her candy and five packets of sugar from the coffee tray on the little buffet, but she finally regained control of her body and her cravings. Decided to take a little nap.

  And fell asleep to the images of white powder coating glass.

  * * * *

  Harsh charcoal grey suit and a stark white shirt. Dean's welcoming smile froze on his face as Silver approached. Too controlled. Too well put together. She did professional well, but this was more. Her fake green eyes shimmered. Delicate armor that fit so well, that wouldn't shatter, but that probably should before she got too comfortable in it.

  But until he figured out why she'd pulled it on, he had to tread carefully. He moved away from the agent, extending his hand to her. "Miss Delgado. I was hoping you'd join us."

  Silver took his hand and smiled her transparent, crimson lipped smile. "Silver please, Dean. I hope you don't mind, but it's too late in the evening for formalities."

  Good. At least she isn't pulling away from me. He held onto her hand a moment longer than necessary, searching her face for a clue to how to best proceed. Nothing. She was looking at the man he'd been speaking to in the lobby outside the bar with polite interest.

  "This is John Keeton. The agent to the player I signed tonight." Dean drew Silver to his side before releasing her hand so she could shake hands with Keeton. "John, this is Silver Delgado."

  "A pleasure," Keeton said, clasping her fingers and grinning. "I like the direction the team is taking with you at the helm. It gives players like Ramos the opportunity to get the exposure they deserve. I'm sure you'll be pleased to know he'll agree to any publicity or charity work you come up with. He's very committed to his job."

  "That's good to know." Silver withdrew her hand and glanced over at Dean. "I hope you were about to go into the bar to celebrate our latest acquisition. I'd love a drink."

  There, just a slight tension around her eyes. He'd rather speak to her about whatever was bothering her than let her drown it, but a drink or two to help her relax wouldn't hurt.

  "We were." He held out his arm and she put her hand in the crook of his elbow. "Martini or beer?"

  She let out a twinkling laugh and shook her head. "Champagne is more appropriate, but I was thinking Bourbon."

  Bourbon? Dean frowned. His little sub certainly wasn't a light drinker.

  John chuckled, looking absolutely charmed. "A lady after my own heart. Let's find a booth near the door so Ramos can find us when he's done speaking to the coach."

  They took their seats in the booth and waited for their drinks, chatting about the recent suspensions and some of Silver's plans for the team's exposure. The magazine spread she mentioned spurred a fierce debate, in which John took her side, but despite Dean's need to defend his team's integrity, he loved the fire he saw in her eyes as she brought up all her points like parries in sword play. He argued fiercely until she stood and pointed at him as though about to make the killing thrust.

  "Know your role and shut your mouth!" Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "I don't need your permission. Most aren't nude photos. Get over it!"

  "Most?" She's joking. Or she better be. "I can't see you getting any players—except Demyan perhaps—to pose naked."

  "They'd be artistic shots. And you have no idea what men with big egos will do." She paused and smirked. "Scratch that. Actually, I was thinking a shot or two of you might—"

  "Silver, that is not funny." Actually, it was. But he wasn't about to encourage her. "There's absolutely no need to promote me."

  "Well . . . ." John smirked and leaned across the table with his tumbler between his hands. "With a team as new as the Cobras, it makes sense to use every asset you have. You're a good looking man, Richter. Why not exploit your virtues? I know I'd enjoy seeing you in a centerfold."

  An uncomfortable silence followed John's words. His sexual leanings were no secret. And he was fairly aggressive in his pursuits. To the point that he'd lost several players because of his advances. From the little Dean knew about him, the man considered a straight man one who hadn't met him.

  Dean arched a brow when Silver leaned into him and ran her hand up his thigh.

  "Are you hitting on my man, John?" She brought her glass to her lips and licked the rim. "Because if you are, I have to warn you, I don't care what sex you are. I'll slap you down like a bitch."

  John lifted his glass and inclined his head. "I apologize. I didn't realize you'd staked a claim."

  "I have." Silver held her glass out to chime it with John's. "Just don't do it again."

  The whole thing seemed very backwards. Dean shook his head and grunted as Silver's hand slid up to his crotch. Damn if he didn't feel like a piece of meat being claimed by an alpha wolf. Shouldn't it be him guarding his territory, rather than the other way around?

  Then again, Silver never made him feel like he had to fight for her. She made him feel like here, and now, she belonged to him. But how long would that last? What they had between them was new and exciting. If he didn't keep it fresh, she'd get bored. And he'd lose her.

  Then step it up, Richter. His lips curved in a slow smile as he brought his lips to Silver's throat. "I'm afraid you offer nothing that this woman can't give me, John. But I'm flattered."

  "You should be." John chuckled and set his glass on the table. "Ah. Finally. Sebastian Ramos, I would like you to meet your new GM and owner. Dean Richter and Silver Delgado."

  A large man with sleek, long black hair and dark brown eye stood by Silver and gave her a hooded look
. "Silver. I was hoping to speak with you this evening. I was taken aback by your offer, but once I considered, I realized you needed time to accept that part of yourself. And now that you have, I am eager to continue where we left off."

  The man had a thick accent, as though English wasn't his first language. Dean observed him, taking in the smooth, alluring tone of his voice and matching it with the Latino appeal. Big, buff, and attractive. Silver's pulse quickened against his fingers. She knew this man. Very well. And something about him either frightened or aroused her.

  By her expression, he figured the mind numbing, raw attraction likely scared her. And the dominance the man wielded so easily. Bower would be his first choice for exploring her clear desire for a ménage. Being with two gay men wasn't an accident—perhaps a miscalculation on her part, but Silver wasn't a one man woman. Dean had accepted that, but perhaps he'd been too close minded. Maybe the other man wouldn't be her dear friend. Maybe it could be Ramos.

  "I've been looking forward to meeting you in person, Ramos." Dean smiled, trying to keep his face relaxed even though he didn't know this man and something inside him objected to letting him anywhere near Silver. "Please join us."

  * * * *

  "Sebastian." Silver whispered as her mouth went dry. Hair rose on the nap of her neck and she found herself leaning forward slightly, though she managed to keep one hand in Dean's and the other fisted at her side. Even though her fingers tingled with the memory of his soft hair, which still spilled in dark brown waves past his massive shoulders. Even though the way he looked at her made her want to lay her wrist in his palm.

  Sebastian looked over her, to Dean. "May I?"

  Dean must have nodded, because Sebastian moved even closer to her.

  "I would like to say hello to you properly. Come to me, muñeca." The smooth, dark olive flesh of his face creased around his lips and eyes as he held out his hand. "Do not be afraid."

  Her lips tingled. She knew exactly how he wanted to say hello. And shamefully, parts of her were heating up, eager to greet him. All she had to do was stand and let him take control. She'd bolted once, but she wouldn't this time. Not with Dean right there to keep her safe.

  "It's okay, my love," Dean said softly, his lips brushing her ear. "Do whatever feels right."

  Giving in felt right. It had the first time she met him, until he cuffed her wrists together and she realized if she didn't get away she'd completely surrender.

  No. I don't want to. She swallowed and the grip on her hand tightened a little.

  "Silver, speak to me." Dean curved his hand under her chin and turned her to face him. "Ah, I see. Why don't you go for a walk, sweetie? I'll meet you outside by the fountain in a few minutes."

  Don't need to tell me twice. Sebastian had already stepped aside, so there was nothing keeping her from making a beeline straight for the terrace. She skirted by a waitress and a group of business men who moved after she quietly said 'excuse me'. None leered at her, which was weird until she realized she wasn't dressed sexy at all. She looked presentable. Mature. Like a woman who could run a franchise like the Dartmouth Cobras.

  She'd felt strong when she'd left the hotel room. Power suits usually gave her the confidence to face all those people who thought she had no business playing owner. She wasn't the Silver Delgado that flirted and slept around, she was . . . she was the one Dean had come to respect. The one Dean treated like a partner. The one Dean loved.

  And all Sebastian had to do was look at her and she didn't know who the hell she was anymore. Dean said she was submissive. He'd proved it. But she'd never thought she was that submissive.

  Lemon trees surrounded her as she ambled along the garden paths, heading for the fountain with the cool dancing statue and all the stone birds. There was another fountain right in front of the hotel with bright lights shooting out of the rippling pool of water, but she didn't want to be around people right now. As long as they were in LA, people might recognize her. And she'd had quite enough of 'old friends' for the evening, thank you very much.

  In front of the fountain, breathing in the warm air, all flowers and green things lingering in the heat that still rose from the stone path, she managed to regain her center and stopped picturing herself kneeling to any Dom that glanced her way. Actually, for a moment she pictured Sloan trying to pull off 'The Look' with her and snickered. Maybe she hadn't turned into a hopeless doormat after all.

  "I take it the walk helped?"

  Silver closed her eyes and relaxed into Dean as he came up behind her and wrapped her up in his arms. "Yes, the walk helped very much. But . . . I didn't embarrass you, did I?"

  "Embarrass me?" Dean let her go and spun her around. "What in the world gave you that idea?"

  "You're a Dom. He's a Dom. He probably thinks you haven't trained me very well."

  Dean shook his head as he pulled off his jacket and laid it on the grass by the fountain. "I haven't trained you very well, but there's no rush. We'll decide how far you'll go together." He sat on the jacket and patted the space he'd left beside him. He waited until she sat before he continued. "I'm just sorry I let him make you feel uncomfortable. I thought you were attracted to him and I needed you to know—"

  "Yes, you told me you wouldn't make me choose. I thought that was just with . . . anyway, it doesn't matter. I don't want to—I'm not interested in Sebastian. Conversation over."

  "Oh no you don't. Talk to me, Silver." Dean's tone took on that edge that told her he wasn't beyond making her speak. And she knew very well that he was capable. His hard eyes bored into hers as he reached out and stabbed his fingers into her bun, using it as a handle to tip her head back. "You're attracted to Sebastian."

  "Yes." It came out as a whisper, but she was sure he heard her.

  "He's the 'uber Dom' you told me about."

  "Yes."

  He nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the water trickling steadily into the fountain. "What happened between you two?"

  Damn. He had to ask. Well, the story should amuse him if nothing else. "I went to an elite BDSM club Asher's friends were raving about. Found myself a hot guy pretty quick that would give me a bit of kinky fun. Not too dominant, of course, still pretty new to 'the scene'. He tried to top me and got all aggravated when I wouldn't submit for real. I laughed at him and he grabbed my arm real hard—so a dungeon monitor came over." She shivered as she recalled the cold look Sebastian had given the man. His power oozed off him in waves and her body seemed to absorb it. "The guy took off and Sebastian pulled me aside. He told me I was cheating myself of the experience, that I needed someone who could 'handle me'." She squirmed as she realized Dean had told her pretty much the same thing. "I got all sassy and said 'Someone like you?' and . . . all he said was 'Yes'. He latched onto my cuffs and clipped them together and I freaked out because I could feel myself surrender. A few words. A look. And I was a goner."

  Dean nodded slowly. "Did you tell him you were afraid? Did he notice?"

  "Oh, he noticed. He whispered in my ear 'This ends only when you say your safeword.' So I said it. He unclipped my wrists and hugged me. Told me I wasn't ready. Told me to come back to him when I was."

  "You're ready now, Silver."

  "I know."

  "Then . . . ?"

  "Then what? Why not go for it? Just because I'm attracted to a man doesn't mean I need to fuck him. I love being with you. You don't make me feel cheap or slutty. Like you're using me or I'm using you. It's more! What's between us is more and I would never consider being with another man unless—" What the hell was she saying? "No. There's no 'unless'. I'm with you. You're stuck with me."

  "I don't consider that a hardship, precious." He released her hair, then shifted positions, pulling her inwards to sit between his thighs. The tension left her scalp as he took her bun apart. "But I'm sorry that I read you wrong. I don't ever want you to feel trapped with me."

  She groaned, caged between his legs, forced to endure the blissful massage that made the roots of her hair tin
gle while forming coherent words. "I don't feel trapped."

  "But you may crave the attentions of another man in the future. If Sebastian was something you wanted—"

  "Wanted. Needed. I have no idea what you're trying to give me anymore, Dean."

  "I'm trying to make you happy."

  "Well, handing me off to a guy that scares the crap out of me isn't going to make me happy." Handing me off to anyone won't make me happy. Why couldn't he understand that she needed more than the lust she felt with Sebastian? That she needed something deeper from a man. Something real. She pursed her lips and latched onto his wrists to still his hands. Then she looked up at him. "And what makes you think I'm not happy anyway?"

  "I'm not blind, Silver. You were doing the ice princess act again." He pinched her chin and gave her a hard kiss. "Was it your father or—"

  "Yes. My father." What else could possibly be bothering me? The stupid suspensions? The fact that I don't have to worry about seeing Landon anymore? A great big fist clenched in her chest and she gasped to breathe past it. And spoke quickly before Mister Observant thought she was hiding something. "My father pissed me off, okay? And I hung up on him. Very rude. You should definitely punish me."

  Dean's eyes widened. Then he threw his head back and laughed. "Punish you? I'd rather reward you! How about breakfast in bed? Champagne and strawberries. And crepes."

  Mmm, that sounds nice. She rested her head on his shoulder and smiled. "Only if you make the crepes. You spoiled me from eating the ones anyone else makes."

  "Deal."

  The fountain gurgled as they sat there for what seemed like hours, just enjoying the peace and quiet, Dean taking in the sights and Silver watching him. Her fingers traced the fine lines in his white shirt. It smelled a bit like ironing and starch—thanks to her—and he smelled like the light, woodsy soap he'd brought along because he preferred his own to the hotel brands. She loved that about him. No matter where they were, he was, well, Dean. He didn't have a thousand different faces like the people she'd known. Or like her. Or like Landon.

  She frowned at that last thought. Landon didn't have a thousand different faces. Just two.