Logan scowled at the memory. “That kid was an asshole. And he should have kept his fucking hands to himself.”
“He bloody well learned that day, didn’t he?” Cynara snorted, drank more wine, then shook her head. “Do you remember hounding Dad to find out where Meadow lived so you could go visit her? He had to gently explain to you that her adoption records were sealed, and he could get in big trouble for looking up her address and showing up at her new home.” Cynara sighed. “You had the longest, saddest face any boy could ever have, and I think you moped for days after that.”
“It wasn’t that long,” Logan grumbled.
“You’re right. It was more like weeks.” Cynara grinned at him. “So now that you and Meadow have found your way back to each other after all these years, tell me again why Mom shouldn’t expect an engagement announcement?”
Logan felt his lips twitch and struggled to hold back a smile. “We’re getting reacquainted, strengthening our foundation. Let’s just leave it at that for now.”
“Whatever you say.” Cynara sighed and tapped her glass with a perfectly manicured fingernail. “I bet Meadow wants as many children as you do. I can totally picture you guys with a brood of multiracial kids like Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.” She winced. “Sorry. Bad example. Brangelina broke up in the messiest way possible. I wouldn’t wish that upon you and Meadow.”
“Uh, thanks, I guess.” Logan decided it was time to change the subject. “So I hear congratulations are in order.”
“For what?”
“Mom told me you’ll be giving a big speech at the U.N. later this year. That’s awesome, Duchess. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” She shrugged, trying to appear unaffected.
Logan grinned proudly. “Look at you repping for Afro-Latinos.”
Her expression hardened. “I’m African-American.”
His grin faltered at the correction. “You can certainly call yourself that. But you’re also Afro-Latino.” He held her defiant gaze. “Don’t deny your Dominican heritage just because you hate your father.”
She stared him down.
He stared right back. “He loves you, Cynara. He always has.”
Something raw and vulnerable flashed in her eyes. “He loves you,” she said bitterly. “You’re the son he never had, his precious hockey prodigy. I overheard him and Mom arguing that night years ago. He fought harder to keep you than he ever fought for me.”
“That’s not true,” Logan argued. “It broke his heart to lose custody of you. You have to know that.”
“Do I?”
“You should. I hope you do.”
She held his gaze another moment before her stony mask slid back into place. Then she gave a careless shrug, downed the rest of her wine and set the empty glass on the table with a sharp clink.
“It’s been fun, Logan, but I have things to do.” She got up and headed for the door, tossing over her shoulder, “Good luck tomorrow.”
He gave her a sardonic look. “On the game? Or my birthday?”
She glanced back, her eyes meeting his. For a moment, he thought he saw a glimmer of sympathy before she turned away without responding.
He stood and followed her, watching as she opened the door and nearly collided with Hunter, who had his hand raised to knock.
Both of them froze, staring at each other across the scant few inches that separated them.
Long seconds ticked past.
“Excuse me.” Cynara shoved on her designer sunglasses, shouldered past Hunter and strode off quickly down the hallway.
He stared after her, looking completely dazed.
Logan cleared his throat to get his attention.
Hunter turned to look at him, his green eyes unfocused.
Logan grinned. “Wassup, bro?”
Hunter slowly stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “Who was that?”
Logan’s grin turned wry. “That was the Duchess.”
“Santino’s daughter?”
“Yup. That’s the one.”
Hunter nodded slowly, glancing back at the door as if Cynara were still there.
Logan cocked his head to one side, studying his best friend. “Hey, man, you okay?”
“Hmm?” Hunter murmured distractedly, lifting an unsteady hand to rub his beard-darkened jaw.
A slow smile spread across Logan’s face. He’d never seen Duchene so rattled and disoriented. It was…fascinating.
Hunter looked at him. “I thought you said she was in school at Cambridge?”
“She is. She came home for the weekend. She does that sometimes,” Logan said with a dry smile. “As much as she loves England, she gets really homesick and she misses her mom like crazy. They’re super close. Like, they Skype or talk on the phone every day.”
Hunter nodded, digesting this information. “How do you pronounce her name again?”
“Who? The Duchess?”
“Obviously.”
“Cynara. Sin-ar-uh. Like the plant.” Logan smirked. “She’s just as prickly.”
Hunter gave another slow nod.
“So, hey, Jupiter called and said that Jenna got everyone VIP tickets to Cirque du Soleil tonight. She also made dinner reservations at some fancy-schmancy restaurant. I think Jupiter said it was Pierre Gagnaire’s restaurant at the Mandarin. Twist, I think?” Logan shrugged. “Anyway, you coming?”
“Can’t. Already have dinner plans.”
“Yeah? With who?”
“An acquaintance,” Hunter muttered vaguely.
Logan broke into a slow grin. “Acquaintance” was code for a member of Hunter’s international harem, which included babes of every ethnicity and language. The women were supermodels, artists, doctors, scientists, engineers, policy makers, and the list went on. Hunter required his lovers to be as intellectually stimulating as they were beautiful.
“Why don’t you bring her with you?” Logan suggested.
“I don’t think so. Besides, I might cancel.” Hunter raked his hand through his dark hair, making a lock of it fall into his eyes. He seemed on edge. Frustrated.
Before Logan could interrogate him, Santino let himself back into the suite with the spare keycard he’d swiped on his way out. He looked just as agitated as Hunter.
Logan gave him a sympathetic look. “Everything okay?”
Santino puffed out a strained laugh. “Same ol’, same ol’.”
In other words, he was still in the doghouse.
“That woman knows she still loves me,” Santino muttered half to himself. “Why else would she keep my last name after all these years?”
Neither Logan nor Hunter attempted to offer an alternative theory.
“My man.” Santino slapped Hunter on the back. “I’m glad you’re both here. I need to pick your brains about this kid I’m scouting for the Capitals. But first things first,” he said, heading to the bar. “You boys want a drink?”
“I’m good,” Logan declined. “I just had some wine.”
Santino grunted. “I need something stronger.”
“I’ll have a whiskey,” Hunter said.
“Just what I was thinking.” Santino poured whiskey for himself and Hunter. They definitely looked like they could use some hard liquor.
Santino strode back across the room and handed a drink to Hunter, then gulped more than half of his own. Things must have gone real bad between him and Roxanne.
“I’m having dinner tonight with Cabe Landrieu and the rest of team management,” he remarked. “What’re you boys getting into this evening?”
Logan sighed. “We have tickets to Cirque du Soleil.”
Santino grimaced. “Good luck.”
Logan laughed. “Gee thanks, Pops.”
Santino playfully ruffled his hair and grinned at Hunter. “What about you, Captain? You torturing yourself at the freak show, too? No offense. I know Cirque du Soleil is a Canadian company based in Quebec.”
Hunter chuckled. “No offense taken. And I’m still deci
ding about tonight.” He swirled his whiskey around in the glass. “I understand your daughter spearheaded a relief project to aid Boko Haram victims. I’d love to hear more about it.”
Something about his casual tone must have pinged Santino’s papa bear antenna. He paused with his glass halfway to his mouth, his gray eyes narrowing on Hunter’s face. After several long seconds, he gave a low chuckle and shook his head.
“I see you’ve met the Duchess.”
“Not exactly,” Hunter said with a hint of wry humor. “She left in such a hurry, I was deprived of an introduction.”
“Hmm, well, maybe that’s for the best.” Santino smiled at Hunter, but there was no mistaking the edge of warning in his voice. “My daughter’s a very beautiful woman. As you can imagine, she’s had plenty of admirers. But she has exceptionally high standards that few men can meet. Many have tried. None have succeeded.”
“I see.” Hunter’s expression revealed nothing as he calmly drank from his glass.
Santino’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“So,” Logan blurted into the tense silence, “what about that kid you wanted to ask us about?”
Chapter Twenty
MEADOW
* * *
On friday night meadow and the girls donned their men’s jerseys and set off for the T-Mobile Arena.
They got there in fifteen minutes, hopped in line and went through the security check. Nelson had arrived earlier to sit in the press box. Jenna had invited the girls to join her and the other WAGs in their family suite, but they’d declined out of respect for Scarlett, who insisted on sitting in the stands.
The arena was packed for the last game of the regular season. As the girls wound their way through the noisy crowd to locate their seating section, a deep voice spoke from behind them.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Look at our little Meadow all grown up and beautiful.”
She turned around to stare at the tall, broadly grinning man who’d spoken. Her face lit up with a delighted smile. “Mr. Tavárez!”
With a booming laugh, Santino Tavárez scooped her up and swung her around, making her giggle before he set her down and gave her a pleased once-over. “Baby girl, you are a sight for sore eyes.”
Meadow beamed at him. “It’s so good to see you again, Mr. Tavárez. How have you been?”
“Life’s good. Can’t complain.” He smiled and nodded to the others. “Good to see you ladies again.”
“Hiii, Mr. Tavárez,” they gushed, giggling like schoolgirls.
His eyes flickered with amusement before shifting back to Meadow. “Congratulations on your new job. Logan told me all about it. It sounds like a wonderful opportunity for you.”
“It is,” she enthused. “I can’t wait to roll up my sleeves and get to work.”
Mr. Tavárez smiled. “I hope they know how lucky they were to get you.”
She grinned. “They’ll find out soon enough.”
He laughed warmly. “They sure will. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Tavárez. I appreciate that.”
His eyes twinkled. “How about our boys winning their division? Pretty awesome, right?”
“Totally.” Meadow grinned. “I’m such a nervous wreck and the playoffs haven’t even started yet.”
“Tell me about it.” Mr. Tavárez chuckled. “My loyalties are divided between the Rebels and the team I scout for. My job is to bring talented players to the Washington Capitals so they can win championships. But Logan is my son and I want him to succeed more than anything. So if the Stanley Cup Final comes down to the Caps and Rebels, I’m gonna be rooting for the Rebels all the way.” He winked. “But don’t tell Caps management I said that.”
Everyone laughed.
Mr. Tavárez’s expression softened on Meadow’s face. “Have you seen him today?”
“Briefly,” she said quietly. “He said he had a lot of interviews and team stuff to do. I know how difficult this day is for him. I figured he just needed some space.”
Mr. Tavárez nodded. “I’m so glad you’re back in his life, Meadow. You’re good for him. You always have been, though you were too young to know it.”
Her heart gave a little squeeze.
Mr. Tavárez affectionately tweaked her nose and smiled. “Where are you sitting?”
She showed him her ticket.
He grinned approvingly. “You girls have great seats. C’mon. I’ll take you to your section.”
The others elbowed one another and waggled their eyebrows as they followed Mr. Tavárez. His tall, burly frame easily cut a path through the crowd. With his gray eyes and wavy black hair, he was a light-skinned Dominican who could pass for Italian.
“Here we are.” He reached their seating section and gave Meadow a quick bear hug. “Let me get back to my seat before the game starts. I’m sitting with the Rebels bigwigs in their executive suite.” He kissed Meadow’s forehead and winked at the others. “Enjoy the game, ladies. See you at the party.”
“Bye, Mr. Tavárez,” they cooed, fluttering their fingers in a wave.
Jess made a lustful purring noise as she stared after his retreating back. “Damn. That man is fine as hell. He could totally get it.”
“I was just thinking the same thing!” squealed Bianca, Nadia and Scarlett.
As they all burst into naughty giggles, Meadow shook her head at them. “You guys need to stop. And I’m shocked at you, Nadia, encouraging their degeneracy.”
Nadia grinned. “Sorry, girl, but Papa Tavárez is sexy.”
“Sexy as fuck.” Scarlett grinned at Meadow. “How old is he?”
“Too old for you.” Meadow made a face. “You guys are squicking me out. Seriously. Mr. Tavárez is like a beloved uncle to me.”
“To you. Not us.” Bianca’s eyes gleamed. “Do I need to pull out my phone and track down his age or are you gonna tell us?”
Meadow heaved a sigh. “When I was at the group home, I remember them throwing a party for his thirty-second birthday. That was fifteen years ago. So he’s, what, forty-seven now?”
Jess licked her lips. “I can work with that.”
The others howled with laughter as Meadow sucked her teeth and stalked off in disgust. They trailed after her, giggling and cracking dirty jokes as they entered their seating section and headed down the steps.
They had awesome seats a few rows up from center ice. The stands were packed with fans in Golden Knights jerseys, as well as tourists who just came to see a good show. A good number of people sported Logan’s jersey, which made sense given that he was from Las Vegas.
“Damn,” Scarlett grumbled as they settled into their cushiony seats. “We missed warmups thanks to Jess’s slow ass.”
“Hey, I’m not the only one who held us up,” Jess protested. “Bianca kept knocking back cocktails like somebody’s drunk auntie.”
Bianca grinned. “What can I say? I like to get nice and liquored up before games. And you’re the last one to talk about anybody’s alcohol consumption, party girl.”
Jess smirked and flipped her the bird.
Nadia bumped Meadow’s shoulder and grinned. “You look good in Logan’s jersey. He’ll be happy to see you in it.”
“He sure will. Viggo can’t get enough of seeing me in his jersey.” Scarlett winked. “Or out of it.”
Everyone laughed.
“Since I don’t have a man on the team,” Bianca said, pointing down at the jersey she wore, “you know I had to rep Reid.”
“Why Reid?” Jess challenged teasingly.
“Because I met him first, and he’s going to be Nelson’s brother-in law. So I owe him my loyalty.”
“That’s right.” Nadia gave her a fist bump, and they both laughed.
Scarlett was reading a text on her phone and shaking her head.
“What’s wrong?” Meadow asked.
“My band manager, Cara, says that YouTube reached out to her. They want me and Viggo to do a relationship vlog.”
“Really?�
�� Jess perked up excitedly. “That would be awesome!”
“No, it wouldn’t,” Scarlett grumbled. “We don’t have enough privacy as it is. Doing YouTube videos would make things a hundred times worse.”
“But you could get millions of subscribers and make a shit ton of money,” Jess argued.
“Jess is right,” Bianca chimed in. “You could be even more popular than Jamie and Nikki on YouTube. I love those two.”
“So do I,” Jess gushed. “They’re amazing!”
“Aren’t they? Nikki’s absolutely gorgeous, and their daughters are too adorable.” Bianca smiled cajolingly at Scarlett. “You should really give this some thought. I mean, you and Viggo are already an ‘It’ couple. Everything you do—together or separately—goes viral. The video of you singing the Swedish national anthem at his grandfather’s hospital bedside is still racking up views on YouTube—”
“So is their proposal video from the cathedral. The view count has almost caught up to Reid and Nadia’s proposal video.” Jess sighed. “Both were epically romantic.”
Nadia and Scarlett made playfully affectionate faces at each other.
Bianca was in marketing mode. “Your popularity is only going to skyrocket once your GQ spread comes out in June. Why not capitalize on that? People would love to see how you and Viggo balance the demands of hockey and rock stardom. There’s no doubt in my mind that your relationship vlog would be a huge hit.”
“Hard pass,” Scarlett said flatly, her thumbs flying across her phone keypad as she responded to her manager. “I really appreciate our fans, but I have zero interest in inviting the public into our personal lives, and thankfully Viggo would never go for it.”
Bianca and Jess sighed. “Oh well, it was worth a shot.”
Meadow secretly agreed with Scarlett’s hardline stance. The thought of opening herself up to the scrutiny of millions of complete strangers was absolutely horrifying.
Bianca grinned at Scarlett. “Have you found out whether Cara and Traeger are sleeping together?” she asked, referring to the band’s bass player.
“Oh, they’re totally boning,” Jess said unequivocally. “The way they were eye-fucking each other at the band’s wrap party, there’s no way in hell they aren’t sleeping together.”
Sin Bin Page 34
