Page 167 of The Pucking Wrong Man

I blinked at the phone. I was pretty sure that he was joking.

Walker: I don’t know that I got the sarcasm on that one.

Ari: Yeah, me neither.

Ari: But also, Hero, you do realize that I said I took ballet in college, right?

My shoulders dropped. I mean it had been a long shot.

Ari: Just kidding. I have the perfect guy. I’ll send you his contact info. Just tell him you’re friends with me. He owes me.

Ari: And now you will too. Even more than after the toe incident.

I did a fist pump. But of course, Lancaster couldn’t stop there.

Ari: But, just so we’re clear, we’re just friends. Not circle of trust members and not besties. Only Geraldine...and Monroe hold that honor.

I smirked.

Me: Noted.

My phone rang. It was Lincoln. “Hello?”

“I’ve got a guy…” he said immediately.

Why did that not surprise me? He seemed to have a guy for everything actually, kind of unusual for a high-profile hockey player...

“Does your fire guy also specialize in ballet?” I asked, only half joking.

Not that I hadn’t used the fire guy. He’d actually taken care of the strip club last Friday, just in case Anastasia got any more wild ideas. I’d made sure to turn off the news the other night when they’d started talking about the random fire that had burned down the whole place.

“No, but he can arrange for a tire iron to hit Mr. Asshole’s leg while he walks to his car,” Lincoln said casually, like we were talking about the weather, or the game tonight…instead of maiming someone.

That seemed...extreme. But he’d also called my sweet baby girl a fucking train wreck. It didn’t take an expert to know that Anastasia was ten times the dancer that he was. He then had touched her enough she had to say, “please don’t touch me there” a few minutes later...

I’d been listening in on her practices now that she had started bringing her phone everywhere after the Michael incident.

Which reminded me...I still needed to deal with him. One of Walker and Olivia’s bodyguards had a friend—female of course—who I’d hired to stand guard outside the Company when I had hockey obligations. She’d reported that Michael had still been lurking outside the studio almost every day, leaving right before Anastasia came out of class.

The Dallon situation needed to be handled so I could move on to solving that.

“Actually…that sounds good. I’ll take it,” I said a moment later.

“Cool,” Lincoln responded, and he hung up without another word.

I stared at the phone for a second. I think I just hired a guy to bust out someone’s knees. Had that really happened?

My phone buzzed with a text from Ari. He’d sent me contact information for a dancer named Rudolf Fedorov. Typing in the guy’s name on Google, I became more and more impressed as I went through his resume. He was one of the top principal dancers in the country, and his contract allowed him to perform with various companies over the years.

He also was married to a man named Ted.

I was wondering if Ari was just fucking with me at this point. Rudolf fit my exact specifications.

I still dialed the number that Ari had sent, and thank fuck, Lancaster had come through. Twenty minutes later, Anastasia had a new partner for the Showcase, assuming Dallon’s leg met its planned end.

Whatever Rudolf owed Ari…it must’ve been a lot.

CHAPTER 33

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