So Over You (Chicago Rebels #2)(66)

“I gave you bone marrow, you ungrateful brat,” he shot back. “Entertainment was not part of the deal. Neither was little dog with big shits.”

“Don’t call Gordie Howe that. He’s very sensitive.”

Isobel laughed. “She sounds better.”

“She’s on the mend. Go sit with her and talk about hockey, but stay several feet away from her germs.” He kissed her forehead, and predictably, she melted into him. “I wish you to stay strong so I can fuck you without conscience after I win tonight.”

“Your. Ego.”

“It is large, yes.” He pulled her flush, giving her a preview of his ego. “I will need a moment to calm it down to less epic proportions. This time shall be spent preparing lunch.” He turned her and pushed her back toward the living room. Sounded like she was forgiven, or Vadim had decided his sexual needs were more important than his disapproval.

Fair enough. They were more important to her as well.

Isobel plopped down on the sofa beside Gordie Howe. “How’s it going, sickie? Bet you’re anxious to get back to New York and on the ice.”

“Ice, yes. New York, meh.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Don’t tell him, but I like hanging with Vad. He’s an absolute hoot, and half the time he doesn’t even realize it! He promised he’d let me play a few minutes of practice with the Rebels when I’m better. Oh, and he also told me you used to practice together years ago. That’s how you met.”

Isobel smiled at how quickly Mia jumped from topic to topic. “Yeah, seems like forever. Another lifetime.”

“My eyes!” Phoebe screamed from the TV.

“Oh, I like this one.” It was the episode where everybody finds out about Monica and Chandler.

“I’m usually too busy for TV, so I’ve never seen this show,” Mia said. “I didn’t expect to like it, but it’s hitting the spot.” She rubbed her dog’s head indulgently. “Gordie Howe likes it, too. He makes happy yelpy sounds whenever Joey opens his mouth.”

Too busy for TV—didn’t that sound familiar. That’s how Isobel’s life had gone, on instructions from her father. No time for anything that wasn’t about getting to the top of her game. Only when she was injured was she able to relax. She hoped Mia wasn’t overdoing it.

The girl’s phone rang and, frowning, she declined the call.

Curiosity piqued, Isobel asked, “Who’s that? A boy?”

“No way.” She bit her lip. “Boys just get in the way, don’t they?”

That’s what she’d thought. But there was no doubt that she’d missed out on . . . fun. “Mia, if you want to have a boyfriend, you should go for that. Especially if he’s hot.”

The girl glanced at her phone. “That was an agent.”

“Wow, already?” Isobel had signed on with her dad’s agent, not that she was ever talented enough to get any significant endorsements, just that one Wheaties commercial after winning silver at the Games. The world had changed in the last few years.

“Yeah, he wants to sign me now. Says he has lots of ideas to take me to the big time.”

“What does your mom say?”

“I’m not telling her. She’d freak out.”

“Then you should talk to Vadim. To be honest, I think there’s going to be plenty of time for that—agents, sponsorships, deals. Right now you should be focused on getting better, getting good grades, and getting into the college of your choice. It’s going to be hard enough once you’re NCAA. You need to make time for yourself, and if you’re worried about endorsements and making money now, it’ll be a distraction.”

Mia considered this. “Do you ever wish you did it differently?”

“What?”

“Any of it.”

Isobel inhaled deeply. “I would have watched more episodes of Friends.”

Another buzz sounded, and they both looked at Mia’s phone again, but it was the other one on the ottoman. Vadim’s, Isobel guessed.

Mia picked it up. “Whoa! Sexting alert.”

Isobel couldn’t help leaning in for a closer look. A text message from someone called Marceline said: Bonjour, Vadim, I am in town next week. Call me. Then, in case the verbal encouragement wasn’t enough, a photo of two very perky breasts with a red heart tattoo on the left one sweetened the offer.

“The Czar of Pleasure strikes again,” Mia whispered with a giggle.

Isobel snatched the phone from her, bile-tinged jealousy climbing her throat. “That’s private. You shouldn’t look.”

Rein it in, dummy. Isobel had no claim on Vadim. If anything, it was better to know that she was just one of several options for him.

“We have soup,” a deep voice intoned behind her.

She dropped the phone like it was a hot coal, then peeked up to find Vadim coming toward them with a tray carrying three soup bread bowls. Like everything else, domestication looked superhot on him.

“Oh, that’s not supposed to be for me,” Isobel murmured. “It’s for your mom and Alexei.”

Vadim put the tray down on the ottoman/coffee table. “There is enough. You will have lunch with us, then Mia will take a nap.” He winked at Isobel. “I must nap, too, to prepare for tonight’s game.”