Page 12 of Worth the Risk
When Luca isn’t calling me Hannah, he’s referring to me as Pixie. I’m not exactly short, he’s just incredibly tall. I bet he could manhandle me, and put me just where he wants me. Ugh. I have to stop thinking about him and sex. I’ve never been the type to jump into bed with a man, and that certainly won’t start now.
During my second week of work, I’ve begun meeting with players. I probably could have met with players earlier, but my uncle is definitely treating me with kid gloves. Lots and lots of HR courses. Tons of reading and research. Did I really need to watch the 1996 NHL finals? Really, Uncle Bennett? Doubtful. I get it: my knowledge is in football, not hockey. But I figured I’d learn as I go. Keeping me away from the players is absurd. Can’t do my job unless I work with them. Not only do I need to get to know them, but they’re basically teaching me about their positions on the team.
I’ve spent quite a few hours at home doing hardcore Hockey 101 research at night. Gabe Dawson basically abducted me and took me on the ice for the first time, and I only fell a few times. Well, more than a few times. But it was fun. Made me realize hockey is much harder than I thought it would be. I can barely skate a straight line, yet they’re running around with a stick, and keeping track of a tiny puck that whizzes by at upwards of eighty miles per hour.
By the end of the third week, I’m exhausted. I have an entire box of notes and files from my sessions so far to look through all weekend before I meet with the remaining players. I’m compiling spreadsheets with all kinds of information to help me put together a social media strategy for the upcoming year. While many of the players have their own social media accounts, I’ll be covering all of the team accounts, for now, and correlating some media release information.
I was also told this week I’ll be taking on two interns, both in their senior year of college. While it could be nice to have someone else to do the grunt work, I’m not looking forward to training two more people. And after looking both of them up on social media, and finding out they’re barely twenty-one, and not even majoring in anything sports related, I can only assume they’re in this for the boys, and not for the job, or experience. Another co-worker tells me they’re related to the owner’s family, which frustrates me even more. Either they’ll assume they can get away with murder because of their family, or they may run to the owners and complain about everything. I hope I’m wrong on both accounts.
Heading into the elevator, I slump against the wall as the doors close. One of the files I’m holding slips through my hands, and onto the floor, at the same time a hand slashes through to open the doors again.
“Could have held the doors for me, Pixie,” Luca drawls with a wink. I sigh. I’m too tired to put up with his shenanigans. I bend down to retrieve the file and stuff it back into the box.
“No. You could have waited. Let me have a few moments of peace before your Friday night activities undoubtedly keep me awake.” I have no idea where this snark is coming from. I’ve never been a woman who talks back, but it’s oddly refreshing and exhilarating. Jefferson would have never allowed this.
“Nothing planned tonight, Pix. Unless you want me to keep you awake? I’ve got things we could do to keep you up all night, bella,” he says huskily. Dammit. Him calling me bella? Shivers. Legit shivers.
“I doubt you could handle me,” I say breathily.
“You might be right. But it would be fun to try,” he responds.
“Nah. Lord only knows what diseases you have. Bet you’ve been ridden more than the A line to the airport,” I say with a shudder. Luca throws his head back and barks out a laugh.
“Means I know what I’m doing …” he says, but stops when the elevator jolts severely and the lights go out.
“Fuck!” I scream, dropping the files again, as I’m launched across the elevator. Luca grabs my arm and pulls me toward him as the elevator drops for a moment before stopping.
“What the fuck was that?” I whisper against his chest. I’m trembling. I’m not the best in dark and enclosed areas.
“Not sure, bella,” Luca whispers back. I’m gripping his shirt on his sides, and I know he can tell I’m incredibly frightened. I’m slightly claustrophobic, especially in the dark. I’d be okay if the lights were on… I think. His left hand begins to slowly stroke my back.
“I can’t breathe …” I whimper.
“I’ve got you, Hannah. Just breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, okay? Slowly.”
I count to ten, slowly inhaling. This is going to be okay. I’m okay. There is nothing to worry about.
“This is security, is anyone in there?” a voice asks over the intercom.
“Yes, there are two of us in here,” Luca answers.
“The fire department is on the way.”
The elevator moves slightly and I cry out.
“Oh my God! I can’t die like this, I can’t! I have too much to do, too many things I haven’t experienced. I can’t die right now …” I sob.
“You got a bucket list, Pix?” Luca asks quietly, continuing to stroke my back as I cry into his chest.
“Yes. Doesn’t everyone?”
He makes a noncommittal hum before asking, “What’s on yours?”
I think for a moment.
“Dancing in the rain. Climbing one of those beautiful mountains. Sky diving. Having the best first kiss, like in a romance book. Sunrise while on a horse. Someone cooking me dinner, and us eating it by candlelight. Eating sushi. Going to Europe. Oh! I want to see the Eiffel Tower so badly! Getting a puppy, buying a house, getting married. Oh, and having an orgasm by someone other than me!” I gasp, shocked that I blurted that out.
“That’s a hell of a list, Pixie,” Luca comments. “That last one …”