“Babe, I’m used to it. Everyone tries to capitalize on me in one way or another. Usually it’s money, other times it’s Blaze tickets or meeting one of the players.”
She sighs softly. “Well, it’s embarrassing that my parents are opportunists who only look at people as ways to further my dad’s political career. I know you want to get along with them, but I’m asking you, please don’t do them any political favors or give money to my dad’s campaign.”
“I’ll send them to my legal department for anything they ask for. Every request gets vetted by them first.”
Daphne sits up and gives me a serious look. “Tell them no. Please. They need to respect boundaries, and our relationship is personal. It’s got nothing to do with money or politics.”
Her tone is imploring, and I realize how important this is to her. I knew her dad or one of his people would ask me for money, and I planned to “donate” some to stay on her parents’ good side. But Daphne’s good side means a lot more to me than theirs does.
“Okay,” I tell her. “I’ll tell them no.”
She nods and murmurs, “Thank you.”
“They really affected the way you see the world, didn’t they?”
“Everything was about money, power and influence. I thought it was because they were wealthy, but I realize now it’s because they’re shallow. You have more money than my family, but you still treat people well. You let Giselle just be a kid, and you don’t think you’re better than people who have less.”
I put my palm on her thigh right beneath the hem of her shorts, rubbing my thumb over the soft, smooth skin.
“I’m not that different from people who aren’t wealthy,” I say. “I have more, but the things that matter most to me are the same as everyone else. That’s why seeing Jada in that car that night hit me so hard. I saw a parent, just like me, wanting to take care of her kids.”
She smiles. “Did I tell you that Jada and her kids made you cookies? She brought them into the office and Hassan texted me about it. We already have so much food here that I told him to keep them, but on the down low. If Jada asked, you got the chocolate chip cookies and loved them.”
“That was nice of them. Did Hassan say how they’re doing?”
“He said Jada hasn’t been late or missed a day of work, and that her boss is happy with her. And the kids are all doing well in school. He goes over to the apartment to check in on them every few days.”
“He’s been juggling a lot while I’ve been gone,” I say. “I need to call my accountant and have him send Hassan a bonus.”
“I’m sure he’d appreciate that.”
Daphne gathers her hair and pulls it over her shoulder, exposing the side of her neck. If I had the use of my left shoulder, I’d push myself up and kiss her there. Her neck, her earlobes, her chest,…every inch of her silently calls to me when I look at her.
I hope she doesn’t think she’s moving out of here once I’m fully healed. Now that I know what it’s like to have her all the time, I’m not going back.
“If you need a referral for an interior designer, I know some great ones,” my mother tells Olivier as she looks around his penthouse apartment.
“I’m good, but thanks. I just buy what I like.”
“But…don’t you entertain?” She gives him a befuddled look.
“Not in my home, no. I’m a pretty private person.”
Mercifully, Grandma Jo ends the conversation when she approaches Olivier, smiling. “Give me a one-armed hug, Frenchman. It’s good to see you back on your feet.”
“Grandma Jo!” Giselle calls from the other room, hurrying in to greet her with a hug.
“There’s my Go Fish buddy,” Grandma Jo says, hugging her warmly. “How are you, my dear?”
“Good. Can I take your coat?”
“You most certainly can, thank you.”
My mom turns to my dad and says, “Apparently we missed a lot by not getting an invite to the hospital. Everyone else is like old friends and we’re the odd people out.”
I sigh softly and Olivier squeezes my hand.
“Mom, it wasn’t really an invite kind of thing,” I say. “We were all just worried about Olivier the whole time.”
“I know that, dear, but when people wondered why my mother-in-law was allowed to see Olivier and I wasn’t, I had no answer.”
“Is it really a wonder she didn’t want you there?” Grandma Jo snaps. “You make everything about you, Sandy.”
“Who wants a drink?” Olivier asks.
“I’d love one,” my father says.
Olivier heads for the kitchen, my father following.
“We’re thrilled about you and Daphne, Olivier,” my dad says. “And hoping you have a swift recovery.”
“Thanks.”
“I hope we’ll have some time to sit and talk tonight,” my dad says, which is code for I plan to hit you up for either money or a favor.
I look between my dad and Olivier and my mom and Grandma Jo, not sure which group to tackle first. I feel like I need to mediate my parents’ interactions around Olivier.
He can handle himself, though. I decide to get myself a drink instead. I’ve mostly been drinking water since I started staying at Olivier’s, but time with my parents calls for something stronger.
I’m two glasses of wine in when Giselle gives me a sympathetic smile over the dinner table. My mother is not so subtly making the case for why the wealthy need to protect their interests with donations to conservative PACs and candidates.
“Will you just stop?” I finally say, glaring at her.
“Stop what?” she asks, her tone offended.
“Tonight, you’re at dinner at your daughter’s boyfriend’s house,” I say, exasperated. “That’s it. Don’t ask him for money or anything else. It’s embarrassing.”
My mom gives my dad a horrified look. “Why is she always accusing me of having ulterior motives?”
“Because you always do?” I respond.
She gives me a stern look. “Your father and I have a right to know where the man in your life stands politically.”
“No, you don’t. We love each other. That should be enough.”
My father gives me his condescending if only you understood how the world works look.
“We only want what’s best for you Daphne. And I assume Olivier is politically conservative, given his wealth. But if not, we need to know sooner rather than later. My team can start working on damage control now, rather than when the news hits.”
“I’m an independent,” Olivier says. “And I’m very much in love with your daughter and hoping to have a good relationship with your family. But if you want to know what my values are, they’re the same as Daphne’s. I’ve learned a lot from her about how giving to the less fortunate can change the world for the better. The things that matter to her also matter to me now.”
Tears well in my eyes as I look at him, grateful. It’s not just gratitude for what he said, but for the way he stood up to my parents.
“You’ve got my vote, Frenchman,” Grandma Jo says.
Olivier smiles and says, “Thanks.”
Then he does the impossible and defuses the tension in the room, asking, “Does anyone want to join me for a Blaze game Saturday night? The owner’s box has a great view of the ice.”
“I will,” Grandma Jo says. “And I won’t say no to a private tour of the locker room after the game, either. Preferably right as the players are getting out of the shower.”
Laughing, Giselle says, “If Grandma Jo is in, I’m in, too.”
“Mom?” I ask, trying to make peace.
She looks at my father, who nods. My mom turns to Olivier with an expression I’ve never seen on her face before—resignation.
“We’d love to go,” she says stiffly. “Thank you for the invitation.”
I meet Olivier’s gaze across the table and he winks. Apparently, I underestimated him. He handled my parents better than I ever have. Aiden always rolled over
and gave my mother anything she wanted.
Olivier is a real man, though. And there’s nothing sexier. Instead of telling him, though, I plan to show him—as soon as we’re alone in bed tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Daphne
“Grandma Jo, what do you think?” Giselle asks, biting her lip nervously.
I shoot my grandma a look, silently begging her not to make a comment about Giselle’s dress as being scandalously cut or, as she once said when she saw one of my prom dresses, fit for a prostitute.
Giselle needs to have her confidence built up, not torn down. She was so excited about Grandma Jo coming with us to New York to shop for a dress for the spring dance, and I want it to be a positive experience.
“I think you look lovely,” Grandma Jo says.
Giselle beams, studying her reflection in the dressing room’s floor length mirror. She’s wearing an off the shoulder blue dress that’s fitted in the bodice and has a flowing skirt. This is the fifth dress she’s tried on, and so far, it’s my favorite.
“Daphne, do you think I should get this one?” she asks me.
“I think it’s a great contender, but you should try a few more on to be sure.”
Olivier is seated nearby in a leather chair, wearing his reading glasses while looking at his phone. He looks up and gives me a puzzled glance.
“More?” he asks.
“Yes, more.”
“But that one looks great. They all did.”
I give him a pointed look. “We came all the way here, so we’re going to make the most of it.”
“Okay, Daph. I suppose you know more about dress shopping than I do,” he says, turning back to his phone.
“I brought a few more options,” the sales associate at the dress shop says, walking into the large fitting room area.
She hangs about ten more dresses on the rack and I take one off and give it to Giselle. When she goes back to the changing area, I walk over to stand by Olivier and he surprises me by using his good arm to pull me onto his lap.
“Hey,” I say, laughing.
He kisses me and says, “Hey.”
“How are you?”
“Better now that you’re closer,” he murmurs.
“What are you reading?”
“A contract for work.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and snuggle closer. “Sounds kind of boring.”
“It is.” He sets his phone down and kisses me again, saying, “Thank you for this.”
“For what?”
“For being here. Giselle has started seeing her therapist again and she’s feeling better than she has in a long time. I think you have a lot to do with that.”
I lean in and speak in his ear. “I think it’s more due to her new BFF Grandma Jo.”
He hums his amusement. “That, too. But Giselle likes seeing me happy, and you make me happier than I ever imagined I could be.”
“I guess you make me feel pretty okay, too,” I tease.
“You were more than okay this morning, Miss Barrington,” he says in a low tone.
My heart skips a beat as I remember being woken up early by Olivier’s thick erection against my back. One thing led to another and I came twice before even getting out of bed. It’s a much better way to start the day than a buzzing alarm clock.
“Get a room, you two,” Grandma Jo says with a scowl. “There’s a child and a senior citizen present.”
Amused, I ask, “A senior citizen who is hoping to see naked hockey players tonight?”
“You bet your ass,” she says, nodding.
When we finish shopping, we’re flying back to Chicago for the game tonight. I’m nervous and excited about going to my first game with Olivier. We’ve been avoiding the spotlight, but tonight we’ll be standing directly in it.
Giselle walks back into the main area of the fitting room, twirling in a pretty burgundy dress.
“I love this one,” she says, grinning.
“It’s beautiful on you,” I say.
It really is. The long, fitted dress perfectly outlines her youthful figure. It’s a halter cut with detailed embroidery on the bodice.
She looks at the dress in the mirror and turns to Grandma Jo, saying, “Well?”
“It’s just perfect,” Grandma Jo says. “It looks like it was made for you.”
“Dad?” Giselle asks, turning.
Olivier sighs softly. “You went from little girl to young woman so fast, ma crevette. But you look beautiful.”
“Are you saying yes to this one?” the sales associate asks.
“Yes,” Giselle says, smiling. “But before I take it off, will you take a picture of all of us?”
“Of course.”
Olivier stands and the four of us pose, arms around each other. I’m happy in this moment, but I also feel full. Complete. Like I have everything I want and need.
Grandma Jo has been so good for Giselle, but Giselle has been good for my grandma, too. I see the way Grandma Jo lights up when they’re together.
I had no idea how many lives would be impacted that day when Olivier pulled me from my car. He didn’t just save my life. He changed it. He changed me. I’m a softer, more trusting version of myself now.
“Ready to head home?” he asks me when the sales associate approaches us, Giselle’s new dress in a garment bag.
“I am.”
He grins and says, “Let’s go watch some hockey.”
“Which one is West?” Grandma Jo asks, scanning the ice.
“He’s the goalie,” I tell her. “Look at the Jumbotron. They’re scrolling through all the players’ photos and you’ll see him.”
Olivier had Blaze merchandise delivered to my family, and Grandma Jo got a jersey with Jonah West’s name on it. I still can’t get over how strange it is to see my always-formally-and-perfectly-dressed parents and grandma in red Blaze jerseys.
“This is really something,” my dad says, looking around Olivier’s owner’s suite.
He has his own bartender and a server who only waits on the people in his box. It’s extravagant, but since he’s working on meeting me in the middle, I’m working on doing the same by not overanalyzing how much things cost. He is the team owner, after all.
“I can’t believe the number of people here,” my mother says to me, shaking her head. “I had no idea sports were so popular.”
My privileged, out of touch mother is way outside her comfort zone tonight, and I appreciate her being here. It may be just so she can be seen in the company of a billionaire, but she’s here, and I’ll take it.
“You guys have to try the nachos,” Giselle says to us. “And the blue ICEEs are great, too.”
The server looks at us and asks, “Would you like anything?”
“I guess…nachos and a blue ICEE?” my mom says uncertainly.
“Same for me,” I say.
I’m definitely taking photos of Mom eating nachos and drinking and ICEE. I need the photographic evidence or Julia will never believe it.
“Daph?” Olivier says from close by.
“Yeah?”
“My PR manager is asking if we’ll go do some photos real quick before the puck drop.”
“We?”
“Yep. Olidaph.”
“Ah.” I breathe out and stand up. “I guess we might as well.”
We follow the PR manager to another VIP box and when we walk inside, Jada and her kids are waiting for us, all of them dressed in jerseys and smiling at us.
“Oh my gosh!” I cry, rushing to Jada to hug her. “You guys are here? I had no idea!”
“A little surprise for you, babe,” Olivier says.
I hug each of Jada’s kids and talk to them about how school is going. Olivier and Jada catch up, too, and we all pose for photos.
The suite starts to fill up with other invited guests, and when the lights go down, Olivier and I go back to his box.
“That was such a nice surprise,” I say in his ear. “Thank you.”
“Oh, he’s a hottie!” Grandma Jo cries when Jonah West’s photo is displayed on the Jumbotron.
Everyone laughs—even my mom. Then we all take in the pregame sound and light show, the roar of the crowd like nothing I’ve experienced.
When the puck drops, the real excitement begins. Olivier clutches my hand during exciting moments and swears when things don’t go his team’s way. He’s completely engaged in the game, and even though I don’t fully understand what’s going on, I like seeing how much he loves it.
“Block it!” Giselle yells, jumping out of her seat. “Come on!”
She’s just like her father, on the edge of her seat throughout the game. They’re both bummed when the Blaze lose 3–1, but my parents have the same expressions they have after watching an opera.
“That was really exciting,” my father says. “And I’m sure we’ll get them next time.”
“Is Jonah high or something?” Giselle grumbles. “He looked like a statue someone set in front of the goal.”
“Goaltending isn’t as easy as it looks,” Olivier says. He puts his arm around me as we walk out of the box and asks, “Did you like it?”
“I did. I want to learn more about hockey, though, so I actually know what I’m watching next time.”
“I might know a guy who can help with that,” he says, kissing my forehead.
Grandma Jo approaches us and says, “Thanks for everything, Frenchman. I think I’ll need to take you up on that locker room visit some other time because it’s way past this old lady’s bedtime.”
“Anytime, Grandma Jo.”
We hug her and my parents, and then walk Giselle down to the car, where Ben is waiting to drive her home, and we say goodnight to her.
Then we take an Uber to Lucky’s, the bar we’re meeting a bunch of Blaze players at. It’s just the two of us for the first half hour, and then players start filtering into the sports bar.
“You’re back,” Victor Lane says, grinning and giving Olivier a backslapping bro hug.
“Boss man!” Anton says, also embracing him. He stands back and looks at him seriously, saying, “No more running towards burning cars or having buildings fall down on you for a while, yeah?”
Olivier: A Chicago Blaze Hockey Romance Page 14
