Chapter Twenty-Eight

Roman

From the moment I step into the room, she’s the only woman I see. I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as Addison, but tonight…I can’t get over how incredibly sexy she looks. She outshines them all. She is the moon among the stars. And when our gazes finally collide across the distance, it’s like getting struck by a meteor to the chest.

Her pale blond hair is flowing free in loose waves, and the smoky makeup around her eyes whispers of mystery. Chandelier earrings of chunky onyx stones nearly kiss that sensitive place I love to bite, where her shoulder and neck meet. The black lace cocktail dress clings to her body like a desperate lover. Before she turned toward me, I caught a glimpse of her back, covered in sheer black netting all the way down to the base of her spine. It’s a flirtatious combination, the perfect merging of Addison’s two sides, classy corporate and tempting vixen.

I did a little of the same thing. I wore my diamond stud earrings and left the silver barbell in my tongue. My hair is styled in the bed-rumpled way I prefer, and although I’m wearing a tux, my bowtie isn’t tied and the top few buttons on my shirt are undone, allowing flashes of the tattoos covering my chest to show if I move just right. I didn’t want to be one or the other, Roman or Ruthless. I wanted to be me. All of me.

I have no idea why I came tonight. I told myself it was just so I could see that she’s okay. That she’s moved on and she’s happy. All I want is for her to be happy, and I don’t know that I can give that to her. I don’t know that I can be who she needs. Who she deserves. What if I try and I fuck it up, hurting her worse than I already have? I couldn’t live with myself. But now that she’s in front of me after all this time…I don’t think I can live without her.

She’s with Austin. I expected to feel some residual jealousy or irritation at seeing them together, but I don’t. Thanks to our conversation earlier in the week, I know my friend has nothing but the best of intentions where Addison’s concerned. He was a part of our relationship because I’d asked him to be, not because he had any romantic designs on her.

I’m so caught up in my musings that I almost don’t notice the man on the other side of her until she places a hand on his arm to gain his attention. Something she says causes Austin to scan the room quickly before locking onto me. Addison doesn’t look my way again, but the other guy follows Austin’s line of sight and finds me easily enough. For a second, I’m dumbfounded. The man who appears to be her date—that word alone has my fists clenching and itching for knuckle-to-jaw contact—is none other than Sam Larsen of the Chicago Blackhawks. She didn’t just move on, she upgraded to the best enforcer in the whole goddamn NHL. And he doesn’t appear very happy about my presence. Well, the feeling’s fucking mutual, pal.

A few minutes ago, Larsen was one of my favorite players in the league, and I’d have been stoked for the chance to meet him. Now I’d like to lay him out flat for the familiar way his hand finds Addison’s waist, and how he dips his head to speak intimately into her ear. She shakes her head slightly and places a palm on his chest to smooth down the lapel of his jacket as though to reassure him. Of what, exactly? That I don’t matter? That I’m not worth worrying about?

Fuck. That.

He’d better fucking worry about me, because I’m coming for my woman, and I’ll walk through him or anyone else to get to her. Before I even take a step in their direction, though, Larsen shakes Austin’s hand then spirits Addison through the exit on the far side of the room. Austin starts making his way toward me, and by the firm line of his lips, I can tell he’s on his way to stop me from following her.

Sorry, bro, not in the mood for an intervention.

Spinning on my heel, I go back through the doors I’d entered only minutes ago. Rounding the corner of the hallway, I see them just as their elevator door closes. I stab at the button to call another one, but I don’t want to take the chance that a few minutes’ head start will be the difference between stopping Addison from leaving with Larsen and watching the tail lights of their cab as they drive off to celebrate the new year in his bed.

I make a run for the end of the hall, shoving through the door leading to the stairwell just as I hear Austin calling my name. I ignore him and take off, eating up the floors like my ass is on fire. By the time I reach ground level, I’m panting like I just tried beating Usain Bolt in the hundred meter dash, but there’s no time to catch my breath. I race through the lobby, snaking through the crowd, barely avoiding trampling several people, and finally bursting through the main entrance of the hotel, into the frigid night.

Up the street a ways, I see Addison kiss Larsen on the cheek and step out of his embrace and into a waiting cab. I don’t even get the chance to call her name before he’s closed her door and rapped on the roof of the taxi to signal it’s okay for the driver to pull away. I stand with my feet planted, fists clenched at my sides and chest heaving, and contemplate my next move. As he makes his way back toward the hotel, I’m flooded with a mixture of relief and resentment. I’m relieved he didn’t go with her, but at the same time, what sort of man sends his date off in a cab by herself on New Year’s Eve? What an asshole.

“Roman Reeves, I presume,” he says when he reaches me. “I’m—”

“I know who the fuck you are,” I grind out through clenched teeth. “Why the hell would you put her in a cab? Hoping to go back to the party and find a puck bunny to finish the night with?”

Larsen arches a brow in interest and glances up to the top of the building like he can see the ballroom full of guests. “You know if there’re any up there? It’s almost midnight, and now that I don’t have a date—”

Rage eclipses my vision and destroys my restraint. My arm cocks back and sends my fist flying, lightning quick, right into my idol’s jaw. His head snaps back and he mutters a curse, but he isn’t stunned or even mildly fazed. Thanks to his career, and a record number of brawls on the ice, he recovers instantly and returns the favor, splitting the corner of my lower lip in the process.

The taste of my own blood only serves as a stimulant, and I’m ready to feed off of everything boiling inside me and take it out on him. To make the ugliness I’m feeling show on him. To mark him with my pain.

I lunge for him, but before I can get my hands on him, Austin hauls me back several steps. “Whoa, Roman, hold up! What the fuck are you doing, man?”

“Kicking his ass!” I say, trying to twist out of my friend’s hold. “He sent Addison off by herself, and now he wants to go trolling for pussy.”

Larsen tests the mobility of his jaw and cuts a wry look over my shoulder at Austin. “Well, that explains the right hook.”

“Roman, settle down. Sam is Addie’s cousin.”

I freeze. “He’s what?”

“I’m Addie’s first cousin,” Larsen repeats. “She asked me to be her plus one to keep her from getting bored.”

Austin finally lets me go and gives me a pointed look, chiming in with, “I suspect it was more for insurance in case you showed up with someone else.”

“Why the hell would I show up with someone else? I haven’t even looked at another woman. She’s all I fucking think about.” My hands rise to fist in my hair until my scalp screams in protest, and now that the adrenaline is dying down, the knuckles on my right hand feel like they’re on fire. But I don’t care. I welcome the pain. I deserve all of it and more.

“That’s nice to hear,” Larsen says, his thumb checking the damage to his previously split lip. “But do you think maybe we’re not the ones you should be telling?”

Addison. “I need a cab.”

“Take mine.” Larsen nods to where a valet is pulling up to the front entrance in a brand new Ferrari F12. “I asked them to get it before I helped Addie hail a cab. She insisted I stay, but I’d rather ring in the New Year with my dog and a beer on my couch. The cops know my car, so they won’t bother you as long as you’re not endangering anyone. Perks of being a Blackhawk.”

Everything in me is telling me to bolt, but I force myself to hold. “You’re sure?”

He’s both encouraging and threatening when he gives me a hard look and says, “Make things right.”

I don’t even take the time to nod. In seconds, I’m in Larsen’s three-hundred-thousand-dollar car, breaking land-speed records down Lake Shore Drive on my way to Addison’s apartment. On my way to her. I just hope I’m not too late. If I am, it won’t be by minutes…it’ll be by about three months, and I’ll have no one to blame but myself.