The Penalty Box (Vancouver Wolves Hockey #3)(2)

It was my one precious night off from my second job working as a waitress, but I would do anything for Krista. “It’s fine.”

She blew me a kiss. “I won’t forget how you always step up, Charlie.”





*



I drove my geriatric car across the Burrard Street Bridge, before turning into the illustrious neighborhood of Point Grey. I rolled my eyes as I slowly drove past houses I knew started in the millions. At his address, I pulled into a curved driveway and stared at the big house before getting out and walking to the front door.

Taking a deep breath, I dialed his number.

“Mica speaking.” His deep voice rumbled in my ear.

I cleared my throat. “This is Charlie. I’m at your house.”

“My front door code is four-five-eight-nine-three.”

I punched it in and heard the lock click. I pushed open the door, stepping into an expansive foyer. Immediately, an alarm started to beep in warning.

“What is your alarm code?”

“One-three-nine-seven pound.”

I punched that in and the beeping stopped. I turned, momentarily stunned at the interior of his home. For lack of a better word, it was magnificent. Directly past the foyer was a state-of-the-art kitchen that hosted an island so big, you could hold a dance party on it. On the other side of the island, there was an old, farmhouse style kitchen table that could easily seat twenty people. The eating area looked over one of the greatest great rooms I’d ever seen. The ceiling had to be at least two stories high. A massive stone fireplace went up the length of one wall. The furniture was strong, masculine and inviting, but the most incredible part of the room was the back wall built entirely with panes of glass. Rolling tracks showed that it was a retractable wall that opened onto a huge deck. And the entire place sported one of the most stunning views of English Bay I’d ever seen. What shocked me was how immaculate the place was. It looked like a show home.

“Talk to me, Charlie,” Mica’s voice spoke in my ear.

“The view in your living room momentarily muted me.” I forced myself to not walk further into the inviting living room. “Where’s your tux?”

“Turn down the right hallway. The master bedroom’s on the left.”

I walked down the hallway, pausing in front of the door before pushing it open. The bedroom was vast, with a massive king-sized bed, masculine furniture and balcony doors that offered another stunning view. I stood in the doorway. It felt way too intimate to be in his bedroom.

“Go to the walk-in closet.”

I moved to the double doors and worked to not gasp as I stepped into one of the most luxurious walk-in closets I’d seen in my life. I could faintly smell his cologne. I shut my eyes and breathed in deeply.

“You still there?” His accent rolled in my ear.

“Yes. Where’s your tux?”

“Left-hand side. At the back. Look for the suit bags.”

I walked into the closet. I found three suit bags and frowned. “Why do you have three tuxedos?”

“What do you mean?” He sounded genuinely confused by my question.

“Never mind. Which one do you want?”

“The Bottega Veneta.”

“Got it.” I momentarily paused before his shoe rack, my eyes trying to process the neatly lined up rows of shoes. “How many pairs of shoes do you have?”

“No clue.”

“Which ones do you want?”

“Black ones. Pick a pair.”

I eyeballed at least twelve pairs of black dress shoes, all polished to perfection. I snagged a pair of Dolce & Gabbana patent leather lace-up derbies that looked brand new.

I walked rapidly back to the front of the house, stopping to set the alarm. “Don’t forget to change the codes on your house and alarm system tonight.”

There was a pause and I could hear the smile in his voice. “You going to rob me?”

“No!” I shut the front door behind me and walked towards my car. I balanced my phone against my ear as I opened the back car door and hung up his suit. “Just change the code.”

“I don’t know how.”

I snorted in his ear. “Well, when one of your disgruntled exes breaks into your place, I want to be exonerated from the list of suspects because you didn’t change the code on your front door.”

“You’re the only one.”

I started my car, cursing inwardly as it sputtered before starting. “Only one what?”

“Who knows the code to my house.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s true.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“I don’t bring my… friends back to my place.”

I paused, processing that statement. “Please stop telling me this shit.”

He laughed.

I didn’t even say goodbye. I hung up. The guy was constantly messing with me. I couldn’t tell if it was because he was born a flirt or if he had somehow figured out how I felt about him and used that information to get a rise out of me. Either way, I found our conversations incredibly annoying.

In a tempting, can’t-have-it-but-totally-want-it kind of way.





*



I used Krista’s corporate credit card to have my car valet parked, figuring that she could put it on Mica’s tab. I stood in the lobby of the Marchione Hotel, watching as the rich and the richer strolled by. I could identify at least half of the people by name and I bet if I spoke to them, my face wouldn’t register with anyone.