Page 22 of The Player's Club

It helped that Mac was clearly a talented, savvy player. He easily skated across the ice, scoring multiple goals throughout the game. The stadium erupted into cheers and yells every time he smacked the puck into the net. Numerous women had seats nearest the ice, holding signs, flowers, and God knows what else. I half expected some of them to take off their bras and throw them onto the ice.

I was sitting up in the nosebleed section, which was fine by me. I didn’t want Mac to know I was here. Not yet, at least.

The game was a close one, with the Blades scoring the winning goal in the nick of time. Mac and his teammates let out a rousing roar of excitement after their win, gathering together and hooting and hollering like crazy people. I laughed out loud at their antics.

After it was over, I went straight to the locker room, my press pass giving me quick access to behind the scenes. The players came filing in, clearly high off their win, the smell of sweat clinging to them. The guys began taking off their skates and then stripping off the heaviest parts of their gear.

Mac’s gaze caught mine within moments. His eyes darkened. I imagined he was shocked to see me, and I realized I needed an excuse for why I was there. I couldn’t tell him I was with the press. That would pretty much be the end of things. I stuffed my badge into my pocket and hoped against hope that he hadn’t seen it.

“How’d you get down here?” he asked, approaching me with a towel around his neck.

“Oh, you can get anywhere with a little flirting and some cleavage.” I laughed nervously.

Mac glanced at my blouse, which showed a grand total of zero cleavage. “Cleavage, huh?”

I shrugged. “I buttoned it up before you guys came inside.”

“That’s a shame.” His eyes sparkled.

I realized people were staring at us. I cleared my throat, putting some space between us.

“Can we go somewhere to talk? Privately?” I asked.

Mac nodded. “Give me twenty minutes. I’ll meet you outside in the parking lot. My car is near the south end in lot C, row five.”

“I’m impressed you remembered exactly where you parked,” I joked. “I swear I can never remember that the second I walk away from my car.”

Mac, though, just shrugged off my comment. I could tell his mind was already elsewhere.

He then returned to the bench, now giving the press his full attention. I watched him for a bit, enjoying his answers to their questions. He never failed to have a witty quip or rejoinder. When more than one journalist probed him about his affair with a married woman, Mac managed to say something clever and avoid the subject entirely.

I hated that I couldn’t use my press badge without giving myself away. I just had to stand there and watch, feeling awkward. Eventually, I decided to wait in my car.

I let myself relax once I was safely inside, pushing the seat back so it would recline. I’d been so full of energy during the game and after, but the post-adrenaline crash left me feeling extremely tired. I’d experienced it on more than one occasion, usually in the midst of chasing a story and doing something that was borderline illegal.

But I soon regretted leaving the locker room because now my brain had returned to the voicemail on my phone. I needed money, and I needed it quickly. Did I tell Roy about my predicament?

I chewed on my lip. Considering I was lying to my boss about Mac, I doubted Roy would feel inclined to help me out.

I could suck it up and write a story about Mac. That was what I’d been assigned to do, anyway. And I had a big, juicy story to tell, NDA or not. I couldn’t imagine how the public would react to the story of Mac going to a sex club. Or his predilection for BDSM.

The world might be more accepting than it was even twenty years ago, but it wasn’t that accepting.

I chewed on my lower lip until it was sore. I sighed, rubbing my temples. As much as I knew the money would be great, I could never do it. Even though Roy would probably risk the lawsuit from his employee violating an NDA, the thought of writing about Mac felt like a betrayal. Maybe it was because he’d been so upfront about wanting privacy. And I also knew that The Scarlet Rope probably had the resources to sue me personally for breach of contract if I spilled the beans. Though...I hadn’t signed the NDA. Technically, Roxy had. I wasn’t even sure if that made a difference or if I was bound to the terms by my actions anyway.

I heard the distant sounds of cheers, which alerted me to Mac’s exit. Or rather, his decoy’s exit.

Fifteen minutes later, I saw Mac walking to his beat-up old car parked only a few rows from mine.

ELODIE

I waved over at Mac. When he caught my gaze, his eyebrows rose.

“How did you know it was me?” he asked ruefully.

That’s a great fucking question.

“You’re pretty recognizable,” I lied, not wanting to admit that I knew about him using a decoy whenever he left the stadium.