Page 90 of Xander

Things were going relatively well between us despite the recent scandal.

Let me rephrase.

Things were going as well as they could go while forcing the woman I loved into being with me. Though if I were to be honest, I wasn’t forcing Jordan’s hand all that much anymore.

Her resistance had been chipping away by the day. The physical dependency I had created had been easy to accomplish; she was addicted to what I could do to her body. But there was still a fight left in her, refusing to be all in until I freed her.

I’d lay the world at Jordan’s feet, that was the reason why I worked so hard—to give her everything her heart could desire. The only thing I couldn’t grant her was her freedom.

When I returned from the bathroom, Jordan looked pensive. It pleased me when she set down her phone upon my arrival. But I tensed upon realizing she had ordered a glass of wine and covered the rim with my hand before the waitress could tilt the bottle.

I had purposefully asked the restaurant to seat us in a female server’s section, unwilling to spend the afternoon watching another man ogle her. Not that it mattered. Half the assholes at this restaurant were openly staring at what was mine and wouldn’t look away no matter how many times I glowered at them. I should rip all their damn eyes out of their sockets.

Jordan was willfully ignorant of the attention she harnessed. Half the time, she was convinced people were staring at me, though none of these patrons looked like fans of cold-blooded sports, and I doubted they’d ever stepped inside a hockey stadium. Their focus was solely on the beauty next to me, who was curiously staring at my hand covering her wineglass.

“No, she’s good,” I told our waitress, dismissing alcohol entirely from the table when they offered it to me instead. I wouldn’t drink if she couldn’t either.

Jordan frowned at me, visibly irritated, but we had to get serious about conceiving. I had allowed her free rein on alcohol for days because it was unlikely that a thirty-seven-year-old woman could become pregnant after a few days. I wanted to dive right into fertility treatment to increase our chances, but first, she needed to make some changes to her diet.

“It’s best you avoid alcohol moving forward.” I lowered my lids to point toward her belly, my insinuation clear. “Raw food and coffee, too.”

“Now you’re telling me what I can eat or drink.” Jordan didn’t appear pleased, picking at her food.

I frowned at the barely touched plate. “If you don’t like your meal, we can order something else.”

With a defeated sigh, she shook her head. “It’s fine. I’m not really that hungry. I was thirsty, though…” She stared at her wineglass longingly, which made me roll my eyes.

“You haven’t eaten all day. Even if you wanted to drink, you can’t do it on an empty stomach.” Not that she’d be allowed to drink again in the near future.

“I just don’t like the way this smells.” She looked at the pasta, and I could have sworn she went a little gray beneath her recently tanned golden complexion. “I think they must be using too much garlic.”

When I arched my eyebrows at her, she took a piece of bread from the breadbasket and nibbled on it in an apparent attempt to appease me.

Sighing, I tried a forkful of her pasta. “Tastes fine to me,” I told her, though she remained apprehensive. It tasted like an ordinary amount of garlic to me, but maybe this wasn’t about food at all. Perhaps she was upset about the meeting with my agent and coach.

Ross, while competent, could be a pandering fuck, and everyone knew Foley was a righteous blowhard. Despite Jordan’s vehement denial, they didn’t buy her story. It was written on their faces, and that picture of us was cold, hard proof of our affair. Any shred of deniability would’ve been eradicated by now, given how much of a caveman I acted around her. At this point, I’d be surprised if most people in my life hadn’t picked up on it.

I didn’t care what they thought of our relationship. These people weren’t doing me any favors by keeping me on the team. They thought I was blowing my chances at being fast-tracked to a long career on the hockey circuit, but this team wouldn’t trade me even if I murdered someone. At most, I’d lose a few endorsements. Foley and Ross, however, didn’t think the small sacrifice was acceptable.

“Other men would kill for the opportunity you’re wasting,” was what Foley had said to me, man to man, as Jordan and I headed out. “Think about that.”

But I wasn’t other men, was I? I had responsibilities. Those responsibilities were why I had taken up hockey in the first place. I was good at it, sure, and it was a way to thumb my nose at my father and all his white-collar endeavors while I supported my brother and mother.

Other men didn’t step up. I did.

And other men certainly hadn’t been infected by the tenderness of her embraces, the warmth even her shadow could provide, her sunshine face that brightened my life.

No.

Other men didn’t know what it was like to let Jordan take away all the shitty parts of their lives, and I’d never let them find out, either.

She was my reward after this long, exhausting journey to the top. She was my sunshine.

My coach had no idea what I’d be willing to sacrifice to keep her with me and out of my father’s clutches. I would even play the role of the villain in our love story if it meant we’d walk into the sunset together at the end.

Jordan set down her piece of bread. There was a frown on her face, almost like she’d read my thoughts. “You can’t take Henry on, Xander. He’s going to destroy you.”

“He won’t.”