SWNOVELS Pucking Revenge : Chapter 7
“DOES THIS LOOK OKAY?” I shift the phone so Lennox can see the slinky silk dress I’m wearing. It’s a deep cranberry color, and I’ve paired it with a pair of nude suede heels she lent me.
When I texted Lennox this morning and mentioned the party tonight, she had her personal shopper deliver these items. She has more money than she knows what to do with, and no matter how much I beg her not to spend it on me, she does anyway. She says it’s her love language and to let her love me. You can only say no to that girl so many times.
She raises her brows and smirks. “Seb is going to die when you walk into the party. The man will be claiming you and eating out of your hand by the end of the night.”
My stomach sours. “Ugh, that is so not what I’m going for.”
Lennox gapes and moves to her phone. “Wait, what?”
With a sigh, I pick up the phone, then I slump against the bed. “We’re done.”
“What happened?”
“He was being a dick about my friendship with Brooks. And it wasn’t the cute kind of jealousy. He made Brooks do push-ups on the ice in front of the whole team yesterday. And from what I heard, he did it again at practice today. A hundred of them. He’s being an ass.”
“Wow, Seb sucks.”
I laugh. “Yes, he does. And that’s not even the worst of it. This morning, he accused me of playing games and told me that if I thought this would make him ‘claim’ me, then I was sorely mistaken. That it would never happen.”
“Dick.”
“And then he made a veiled threat about my job.”
Lennox goes rigid, and I swear flames burst in her eyes. “He wouldn’t do that to you. If he even considers it, I’ll fucking string him up by the balls.”
My heart takes off again, just like it did this morning when he made that comment. Losing this job—and in turn, losing the ability to afford Ethan’s medication—would mean my mom would have to choose between his meds or her rent. It’s unfathomable.
“What was I thinking, even getting involved with him in the first place? And how the hell did I let him sweet talk me into believing he was this good guy? He made me think he cared about me. That my job was safe.” I pinch the bridge of my nose to stave off the tears threatening to well. “I figured that since he was older, I could trust him. That he could be my safe place. I confided in him about my family. I haven’t even told Brooks about Ethan, yet I poured my heart out to this guy? What the hell is wrong with me?”
She shakes her head, her eyes practically glowing. “Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you. You’re perfect and beautiful and kind, and you go out of your way for the people you care about. You worked your ass off to put yourself through college, all while working multiple jobs so you could send money to your mom. I lost count of the number of nights you didn’t come out because you refused to let me pay and you wouldn’t dip into any of the money you’d worked so hard to earn.” She huffs a breath. “So don’t you dare criticize yourself. I won’t hear it.”
I fall back against the pillow and bang my head against it softly. “What if I lose this job? The guy is unhinged. He’s in his fifties, yet suddenly, he’s acting more immature than half the hockey boys who streak down the hallways of my apartment building.”
Lennox chuckles, her blue eyes dancing. “God, I miss you.”
“When are you coming home?” I whine. I need her more than I realized.
She looks out her window, probably enjoying the view from her New York City apartment. I’m sure it’s incredible. “I’ll try to come up one night next week. What’s your schedule look like?”
Flopping over to one side, I scan the calendar I keep beside my bed. I’m never sure where I’ll be from one week to the next. I go where the team goes, and they’re always on the road. “Looks like we’re in town next weekend. Then we’re on the road for ten days.”
“Then I’ll plan to make my reappearance in Boston before you leave.”
“Thanks, love. I could really use a friend.”
“You’ve got the best one.” She grins. “We’ll figure this out, babe. Please don’t stress. You know I’ve always got your back.” She turns serious then, her tone deepening and her eyes pools of sincerity. “Ethan will never go without medicine, and you will always have a roof over your head.”
I twist my lips. I’m grateful for her, but we both know I’d never accept her handouts.
“Speaking of friends,” Lennox says, brightening again. “Maybe you should use Saint Brooks and that hot dress to show Seb what he’s missing.”
“Fuck him.” I honestly could give two shits about Sebastian. He will lose his mind when he sees me on Brooks’s arm tonight. But the last thing I want is to put Brooks in the line of fire again. The man has been nothing but a good friend to me, yet he’s been punished repeatedly. “Besides, Brooks did mention a girl the other night.”
Lennox sits up higher on her bed, her phone screen wobbling. “Oh yeah? I don’t remember him ever dating anyone for long.”
“I always forget that you grew up with them.”
She drops her chin and inspects her manicure. It’s her silent way of saying she doesn’t want to discuss something. And despite being an open book, her relationship with the Langfields is never something she’s willing to divulge.
I was shocked when she called me up and told me they were hiring. After college, I couldn’t afford to live on my own, and my mother needed every extra dime we had to take care of my brother, so I moved back to North Carolina. When Lennox showed me the ad for the open PR position with Langfield Corp and suggested I apply, I immediately dismissed the idea. The pay looked great, but the cost of living in Boston was far, far out of my budget. Then she showed me the fine print. The job came with housing.
I didn’t understand why they would provide housing until I moved into the building and suddenly found myself surrounded by Neanderthals. The Bolts needed a babysitter for these idiots.
I do get a little reprieve during our very short offseason. Most of them have apartments or houses in their hometowns, so they tend to take time away, and I get a little break.
My days and nights can get a little crazy, since I’m expected to be available to put out fires at all hours, but my housing is free, and the place is gorgeous. One other major incentive back then was being in the same city as Lennox. Though that didn’t last long. Now she’s in New York, and with my travel schedule, even when she’s in town, it’s hard to see one another.
The doorbell rings, pulling me back to the moment. I sit up on my bed with a groan. In the little box on the screen where my image appears, I can see that my hair is now a mess. “I gotta go.”
Lennox promises to visit next week, and then we’re disconnecting.
I holler that the door is open, then focus on fixing my messy hair. Dammit. After all the time I spent curling it, I’ll probably have to just pull it up.
“I’m going to start locking you in from the outside,” Brooks grumbles from outside my bedroom door. He hasn’t appeared. He’s being gentlemanly again, probably concerned that I’m not decent.
“Come in, Brookie. I’m dressed.”
He ambles in, and my breath goes shallow at the sight of him. God, this hockey boy cleans up well. Brooks is always in a suit—when the team travels, before games, and more often than not when he steps out of this building—but that’s business Brooks.
This Brooks, who’s propped up against the doorframe, arms crossed, black suit straining across his muscles, crisp white shirt with a burgundy tie—because, of course, he asked about my dress color so we could coordinate—is every woman’s fantasy. He’s dangling a to-go cup I imagine is filled with coffee in front of him as he scans me from head to toe. His green eyes are darker than usual, like a Christmas tree in the forest, or at least what I imagine one would look like. I’ve never actually gone out into the forest to pick my own tree.
“You look beautiful.” His tone is warm, his smile lazy.
“You clean up pretty nice yourself, Brookie. That for me?” I take a step closer and make grabby hands for the coffee.
He pulls it back and tuts. “Not if you keep calling me that.”
With a laugh, I snag the cup from him and bring it to my lips, my eyes never leaving his as I do. When the flavor hits my tongue, there’s no holding back the moan that escapes me. “Pumpkin spice. It’s like you know me or something.”
Brooks chuckles and dips his chin. “Sure do. And I learned early on that pumpkin spice is the key to your heart.”
I point to myself and lift my brows in a who me? kind of gesture.
His response is a smirk and a pointed look at my bed. It’s covered in a burnt-orange quilt, and front and center is a pillow that says Pumpkin spice is my spirit animal. It is fall, after all, so it’s fitting. I love decorating and only just switched out my seasonal decor. It makes my little apartment feel homey, and for a girl who grew up without that kind of warmth in her life, these little things hold a lot of meaning.
With another sip of coffee, I spin around so I can finish getting ready. When I catch my reflection in the mirror, I let out a frustrated breath. It’s confirmed. My hair is a wreck. “Sorry, I was on the phone with Lennox, and I lost track of time. Let me just throw my hair up, then I’ll be ready to go. We still have time, right?” I snatch my phone from the other side of the bed and tap the screen to check.
Brooks shrugs and sits on the edge of my mattress. He’s so big he makes my queen-size bed look minuscule. “No rush. The party doesn’t start until seven.”
I snap my head up and frown at him. “Then why did you tell me to be ready before six?”
The smile that breaks out across Brooks’s face is devious, like he’s about to zing me. “Because you’re always running late.”
“Rude,” I quip, though he’s not wrong. “I just like making an entrance.” I spin back to the mirror and scan the surface of my dresser for a hair tie.
Brooks’s gaze warms my back so thoroughly I don’t have to look to know he’s watching me. “You sure do,” he rasps.
I give him a shy smile in the mirror. “You trying to tell me something, big guy?”
“Big guy. Hmm, I like that a hell of a lot more than Brookie.”
Laughing, I pull my hair into a loose ponytail and arrange a few curls so they frame my face, then I set it with spray. “There, how does that look?” I ask, spinning toward him.
He shrugs. “I think my hair looks better, but that’ll do.”
I roll my eyes, though he’s not wrong. He’s got his hair back in that damn bun again. The long hair makes him look just a little less perfect. Like it’s his one fuck-you to the world. Only Brooks doesn’t think like me, so he probably doesn’t keep his hair long to spite anyone. He’s Brooks. Good-Boy Brooks. Saint Brooks. Always polite and respectful. Holding doors and making room for others. He probably says thank you when he comes.
The second that thought pops into my head, my mind conjures an image of Brooks with one hand on his monster cock, grunting out a thank-you as he lets loose, spurting everywhere.
I giggle, and my face warms. Did I really just picture Brooks coming? Holy hell, Sara.
“What are you laughing at now?”
I cup my mouth to quell the glee escaping me. “Sorry.” I shake my head, but I can’t catch my breath.
“Sar.”
“Fine.” I pull in a deep breath and compose myself. “I was just…well, you’re always so polite. I was thinking that you probably say thank you when you come.”
For a long moment, he doesn’t move. His green eyes rove over me, but his lip doesn’t even tick up. There’s nary a smile nor a grunt. No, Brooks is staring at me like I have seventy-five heads.
“Well, that joke went over like an old man’s toot.”
He continues to stare at me without giving away a hint of what he’s thinking.
“Okay, let’s go.” I snag my purse from my dresser, flip the light switch, and head out my bedroom door with my coffee cup in hand. In the living room, I set my coffee on an end table and pick up the cream faux-fur shawl Lennox also had delivered.
Brooks appears at my back, startling me, and lifts my ponytail. With a gentleness that seems impossible for a man his size, he smooths my hair out over it, then he leans in close. His lips are a whisper against my skin, causing a full-body shiver to rock me.
Then with the slightest brush against the shell of my ear, his voice all gravel, he murmurs, “If you ever saw me come, the only person who would be saying thank you is you.”
A half hour later, I’m still tongue-tied and a little shocked. My best friend has a dirty mouth, and I never knew it. Fortunately, I’m easily distracted, and the sights and sounds that accompany a seventieth birthday party for one of the wealthiest people in Boston is quite the distraction.
Brooks didn’t share any details about the party other than to tell me that I’d want to dress up. Preston Langfield is one of the wealthiest men in the world, so that was a given.
With what I know about the man and his status, I was prepared for a party to end all parties, so I’m ill-prepared when I step inside a tiny Italian restaurant and find only one long table set for about twenty people.
“Where are the other tables?” I whisper as Brooks guides me toward the bar where his brothers are congregating. His palm is warm on my back, giving me a semblance of peace despite how out of sorts I suddenly feel.
My trepidation dissipates when I get a look at the rest of the Langfield men. God, every one of them is gorgeous in his own right. The suits they’ve chosen showcase just how beautiful they are.
Like Brooks, Beckett is rocking the hell out of a black suit. He has an arm wrapped around Liv’s waist. She’s tucked into his side, but her attention is fixed on Finn, Winnie, and Adeline, who are coloring at a small table in the corner.
Gavin’s suit is navy, and the shirt beneath it is light peach. As we get closer, his laughter echoes across the small restaurant.
Beside him, Aiden is grinning, obviously the source of Gavin’s entertainment. His horrible girlfriend, Jill, is beside him in a far too revealing green dress that matches his tie. His suit is navy as well but has a slight pinstripe design.
Aiden’s personality is loud. No matter where he is or what he’s doing, it explodes from all directions, his mouth, his smile, and his clothes. The epitome of a little brother, he’s screaming for attention at all times, yet this outfit is muted, reserved.
“I don’t think I’ll make it through this night without wine,” Liv mutters as we approach.
I give her a sympathetic squeeze, but I’m shooed away by her overprotective husband.
Beckett pulls her back into his side in a gentle move so at odds with his domineering personality. “Don’t hug her too tight.”
Liv rolls her eyes and pats his chest. “Beckett, your babies are safe and sound inside my body. Neither your penis nor Sara’s arms are going to penetrate them.”
Brooks snorts beside me and Gavin spits out his drink. “Holy fuck, Liv.”
From the corner, Finn shouts, “That’ll be a thousand bucks, Uncle Gav!”
With a scowl, Beckett digs his phone out of his pocket. He mutters under his breath as he taps on the screen, then he holds it out to Gavin. On the screen, he’s pulled up a QR code. “Use duck or pay the price.”
Without so much as a flinch, Gavin pulls out his own phone and scans the code. “I’d prefer to pay the fine to keep my manhood, thank you very much.”
With my lips pressed together, I scrutinize one brother, then the other. What the hell is happening here?
Only when Brooks squeezes my hip do I realize he still has his arm around me. He angles in until his lips brush against my ear. “What can I get you to drink?”
A shiver racks through me, so I pull my shawl tighter around myself, cursing the cool October air. “Um, something fruity, please.”
I’m not much of a drinker. I’ll have a glass or two of wine, or maybe prosecco at brunch with Lennox, because boozy brunches are a Sunday ritual when she’s in town. Otherwise, I stick to cocktails with little umbrellas.
Like I said before: basic.
Brooks smiles down at me, probably internally chuckling at my general basic bitchness, then asks the bartender to make me something sweet that will match my dress.
Beaming at him like he’s the damn sun, I finally let myself relax. Sure, he and his brothers each have enough money to buy a small country, but they’re some of the most down-to-earth people I know, and I’ve rarely met anyone more genuine. I should know this by now, yet I still let myself get worked up over their status. With a deep breath in, then back out, I let the rest of that apprehension go and settle into the moment.
The guest of honor arrives, and suddenly, it’s a frenzy of birthday hugs and kisses all around.
Brooks’s mom greets me with a big smile. “Sara, you look stunning. I’m so glad you came.”
Monroe Langfield exudes wealth and privilege. She’s in her late sixties, though one would never know it. Barely a wrinkle dares mar her face, and her posture and figure rival that of women half her age. Obviously her genes are superior. Just look at the children she and Preston produced. Even so, this kind of perfection isn’t natural.
No judgment here, though. She’s always been lovely to me, and more than anything, I respect a person’s kindness and the way they treat the people around them.
Behind her, the youngest Langfield, Sienna, appears. She’s a fashion designer and recently starred in her own reality show. For months, a crew followed her around in Paris, documenting the release of her latest line. The paparazzi have been relentless, so it’s no surprise that she arrived with a big man in a traditional black suit at her side. His expression hard as granite, he sweeps the room from one side to the other, then back again, as if he’s making sure we’re all safe.
“Wow. Your sister is a big deal,” I mutter to Brooks as he hands me a cranberry-colored drink with a sugar rim. I covertly lick at the sweetness and savor the taste while everyone’s attention is fixed on Sienna. Celebrity status or not, the baby of the family is a treasure that none of the guys can ever get enough of.
Brooks’s deep rumble sends the loose tendrils framing my face fluttering. “That’s not a bodyguard. That’s Garreth Hanson.” He steps up beside me and holds out his hand to the oversized blond man. “Didn’t know you’d be here. You in Boston for a bit?”
Garreth takes Brooks’s hand, his scowl softening a fraction and his shoulders easing.
Beside him, Sienna’s smile falls. “Don’t be too charming to him, Brooks. We don’t want him to think we want him here.”
With another boisterous laugh, Gavin pulls his sister in for a tight hug and presses a kiss to her cheek. “You giving our best friend trouble?”
Garreth looks down his nose at Sienna with a smug purse of his lips. “Trouble. That’s like her middle name.”
“No one said you had to follow me around like a shadow,” she shoots back with a sharp glare.
“Actually, he did,” he grumbles, pointing to Beckett.
Beckett lifts his chin, not the least bit ashamed. “And that’s all your fault, Sienna. You fire every bodyguard I hire. Let one of them stick around, and I won’t sick my friends on you.”
I cup a hand over my mouth to stifle my laughter when Liv whirls on her husband and smacks his arm. “Beckett Langfield!”
He shrinks just a little, but he still holds his hand out to Garreth and rumbles out a greeting.
Wildly entertained by the little spat between siblings going on, I sip my drink and take in the room. Near the door, Monroe is hugging a woman who is close to her age. She’s equally gorgeous and equally flawless, and she looks more like Sienna than any Langfield I know. I nudge Brooks and angle in close. “Who’s that?”
The smile that splits his face is full of fondness, and his eyes warm at the sight of her. “That’s my Aunt Zoe.” He clutches my hand and practically tugs me along with him as he makes a beeline for her. “Seb’s wife.”
The earth shifts below my feet, and I stumble as Brooks continues dragging me closer. Unfortunately, when the ground cracks open wide, it doesn’t swallow me up like I’m suddenly wishing it would.
His wife?
My stomach drops and then does a somersault. Or maybe it’s my heart.
“Wife?” I ask, unable to hide my shock. I can only imagine the horror on my face.
Brooks stops and frowns at me in confusion. “Yeah,” he says, drawing out the word. “Aunt Zoe. When I was a kid, she and Seb were like my second parents. Come on, I want you to meet my other favorite woman.”
Though my heart has lodged itself in my throat, I force a smile to my face. Surely, he means Seb’s ex-wife. Seb isn’t still married.
That’s what he told me. They separated years ago. We had a whole conversation about it.
Right?
Behind the two gorgeous older women, Seb appears, and all the blood drains from my face. Like everyone else, he’s decked out in a dark suit that stretches taut over his broad shoulders. His smile is wide as he claps Preston on the back and wishes him a happy birthday.
Then, to my horror, he grasps Zoe by the hip and hauls her to his side. She tips her chin up and smiles with nothing but love in her eyes. When he dips low and presses a quick kiss to her lips—the easy, familiar kind that makes it obvious they do it all the time—my lungs seize in my chest.
“Sorry I’m late, baby,” he says, wearing a warm smile. “I wanted to pick you up myself, but my meeting ran over.”
I’m going to throw up.
Brooks, clueless to the living nightmare I’ve found myself in, squeezes my hand and tugs me forward. “Don’t worry, Coach should be chill tonight. He’s always in a better mood around my aunt.”
“Aunt Zoe, I have someone I want you to meet.”
At Brooks’s words, his aunt and Seb turn. That’s the moment when I think I officially die. Seb’s smile falls when his focus lands on me, and he goes rigid when he notices the way Brooks is clutching my hip.
“This is Sara.” Brooks gives me a gentle squeeze. “Sara, this is my Aunt Zoe.”
The woman’s smile is genuine, and her blue eyes light up when she takes us in. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Sara. I’ve heard only lovely things from Brooks.”
That comment knocks me back a step, but I recover quickly and plaster what I hope looks like a smile to my face. Because this woman knows all about me, yet I’ve never heard a peep about her. “Well, Brooks is the nicest guy I know. I’m not sure he could say a mean thing if he tried, so don’t believe everything he’s said.”
With a light laugh, Zoe pulls Brooks in for a hug. He accepts it with a warmth so genuine it makes my chest ache.
Beside her, Seb is watching me, his blue irises like ice and his jaw hard, like he’s pissed at me. The attitude is rich coming from him. He’d begun to show his true colors this morning, and in this moment, I see him for what he really is: A liar and a cheater. The epitome of selfishness and deception.
I look away first. He doesn’t get to make me feel bad for being here. He doesn’t get to make me feel anything at all.
Asshole.
The need to run overwhelms me. I need to get out of here. Brooks is going to hate me when he finds out what I’ve done. How could I be this person? How could I have slept with a married man?
Seb made me a home-wrecker. God, I hate him.
“Excuse me,” I murmur to Brooks, heart beating wildly against my ribs. “I’m just going to freshen up in the bathroom.”
He nods but turns back to his family quickly. Sienna has appeared, and she’s launched into a story about her time in Paris.
My ears are doing that buzzing noise that happens when a person’s heart is beating so loudly everything sounds like an echo. I practically trip as I stumble out of the room full of people who would hate me if they knew what I’ve done.
Once I’m safely locked in the bathroom, I dial Lennox. This can’t seriously be happening. As I wait for her to pick up the phone, I assess myself in the mirror. Is it possible that I look different now that I know? An hour ago, I looked like the fun-loving best friend, and now, the woman in the mirror looks like nothing more than a liar and a cheat.
He made me a mistress.
My burgundy dress feels cheap against my skin. My mascara is smudged. With a deep breath in, I swipe at the black below my eyes.
Do not let him see you cry.
“Hey, babe.” Lennox’s upbeat voice echoes off the tile walls in the bathroom, almost like it’s taunting me.
“Hey.” My voice is the exact opposite, full of nothing but brokenness and defeat.
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s married,” I sob. There’s no stopping the tears now. Damn him. “He’s fucking married.”
“Who’s married? Brooks?”
The sarcastic laugh that escapes me is harsh in the small space. “Good-Boy Brooks would never do something like this. Fuck, he’s going to hate me, Len. He’s going to fucking hate me.”
“Take a deep breath and start again,” she urges. “Who’s married?”
I snatch a paper towel from the dispenser and wet it as I take a deep breath. “Sebastian. He’s still married to Brooks’s aunt. She’s so damn adorable, and he seemed smitten with her. How could he be so sweet and swoony with me for all these months and have a wife he adores at home?”
My heart cracks open at the image that hits me then. Zoe at home while Seb was with me. The idea makes me sick. Hockey season is long. We travel constantly. But even during the offseason, the coaching staff is working, so Sebastian was around all summer. Where the hell was his wife?
“Holy shit,” Lennox mutters.
“Yeah. What the hell am I going to do?” The tears have stopped, but the pain in my chest hasn’t dulled. I’m not even upset about Sebastian. In my mind, we were over when he called me a slut and threatened my job this morning.
Growing up, I was nothing more than an afterthought. My mother tried so hard but my father got a new family and despite my mother’s attempts, he often forgot I existed. From the time I was old enough to understand, I promised myself that I’d never allow that to happen again. If I’m not considered a priority, then that person has no place on my roster. It’s that simple.
And no one tells me what to do.
It’s only been hours since our blowup outside Brooks’s apartment, but it’s not Seb that I’m upset over. It’s Brooks. It’s the Langfields. It’s my job.
“Oh my God. I’m going to lose my job.”
“You are not going to lose your job. If that asshole tries to get you fired, I’ll go to law school and sue his ass.”
Despite the utter devastation coursing through me, a laugh bubbles out of my chest. My best friend would so do that. “It would take too long,” I remind her. “I need this job, or I can’t stay in Boston, Len.”
Ethan’s face appears in my mind, and the devastation turns to anger.
“I’ve gotta go.” I’ve already been in the bathroom too long. It’s time to come up with an excuse and get out of here. I can’t possibly sit at a table across from Sebastian and his wife.
Just…no.
“Okay, call me as soon as you get home so we can plot his murder.”
Leaning over the vanity, I use the damp paper towel to blot at the skin under my eyes. “You mean my job search.”
“No. I said what I said.”
I laugh. “I love you.”
“Love you too, babe. Remember: you did nothing wrong. You walk out of there with your head held high. We’ve got this.”
I hang up feeling decidedly like I don’t have this at all. With no other option but to face the Langfields, I toss the paper towel, determined to get this over with. But when I open the door and find Sebastian standing on the other side, blue eyes cold and angry, I wish I’d just stayed inside.