Page 15 of Break the Ice
In need of a break from the party, I escape to the bathroom—or at least that was the plan until I wander inside and find Phil Morasca’s wife giving Rafe Golding head.
A long moment passes where shock has me riveted to the spot, eyes wide. My vocal cords stop working, though disgust rises up inside me. Bile burning in my throat.
Tiffany Morasca squeals, then tips over onto the bathroom floor.
Rafe, predictably, grins right at me. Handsome and dimpled.
His words come out with warm laughter. “Do you mind? We’re busy.”
“Oh… right,” I say, blinking, dazed. “I guess I’ll… see myself out.”
It has to be one of the strangest moments of my life. My heels feel foreign and unsteady as I totter toward the door and then rush into the hall.
But the damage is done.
The image has been imprinted on the inside of my head.
Rafe Golding, naked from the waist down.
His penis popped out of Tiffany’s mouth, long and weighty, slick with her saliva.
I should be disgusted—and on some level, I am—but the visual of his large appendage standing erect has me flustered for different reasons.
He’d looked so good.
So appetizing, my skin’s hot.
In a split second, at the most unexpected moment, Rafe Golding has accomplished the impossible (at least these days). He’s turned me on.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. My eyes squeeze shut to block out the imagery. “Don’t even go there, Mari.”
I’d be the happiest woman on earth if I never saw him again. How can I be turned on by him in any way?
Rafe Golding’s an ass. He’s a rude, insufferable jerk I have no doubt will be hell to work with. I’ve even begun musing over how I can sabotage him. Maybe do the opposite of helping his image and get him kicked off the team instead.
Don’t fuck with me, Golding. You’ll be surprised how far I’m willing to go.
He might be attractive, but that’s about the only good thing he has going for him.
Thankfully, my phone dings with a notification and distracts me from my conflicting thoughts.
That is, until I realize it’s Mr. Hawk.
What happened to an hour? I’m waiting…
Tension lances through my shoulders as I look up around me. The party’s taken on a life of its own—the banquet room buzzes with mingling power players ruddy-faced and intoxicated and the open-secrets that Quigley Blackman had mentioned earlier.
Skeletons tumbling out of the closet.
Just at a glance, I see Woodrow Channing sniffling one too many times with white dust rimming his nostrils. Several Ice Girls give lap dances to players like Kai Fakuda and Rhett Gilliam. Colt Golding, who bears a close resemblance to his younger brother, looks disinterested and bored as he walks out with an Ice Girl trailing behind in puppy-like fashion. Elsewhere, I see executives and a mysterious man in all black and gelled hair exchange cash in what has to be a bribery.
I turn my back on the many secrets out in the open and head for Mr. Hawk’s penthouse suite. The door leading inside is propped open an inch. Does he expect for me to let myself in?
He did give me a keycard I didn’t ask for, but that doesn’t make me any more comfortable wandering into his suite.
I tap my knuckles on the door and then poke my head inside.
“Mr. Hawk?”
