Page 108 of Branded
I was a fraud, a disappointment.
I didn’t deserve to be there.
I—
The bus pulled into the lobby of the hotel, and I saw that there were a few women gathered, having already waited however long for the bus to show and for their chance at banging a professional hockey player, even though the team had flown in after the game over in Boston, so that meant it was nearing three in the morning.
We would have a light skate in the afternoon, and then the game that evening, so there was plenty of time to nail that player.
And I knew that quite a few of the single guys would be partaking of the offerings.
I, in the meantime, would be making sure Raph made it safely to his room then would be going the fuck to sleep, and hoping that hearing Brandon’s voice would stop.
Maybe I’d text Kailey, see if she was awake.
She made the voice stop.
She—
The lights flashed on, and I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder as I waited for the guys to unload ahead of me.
Then I hopped down the stairs, ignored the cluster of women, snagging my and Raph’s keys from the intern whose job it currently was to check us in and distribute them. “Still next door,” she murmured, her gaze going from mine to where Raph was standing a few feet ahead of me.
“Thanks, Claire,” I said, finding a smile for the timid blond, who ducked her head.
Normally, I’d tug at the end of her ponytail, would see if I could snag a smile back, find a way to get her to breathe a bit easier (what could I say, I was a sucker for the quiet ones). But today, I just didn’t have it in me.
I left the thanks as it was, shoved myself next to Raph, and made sure my friend didn’t do something stupid, like pick up one of the puck bunnies in the lobby. Short dresses, lots of makeup, long blond ponytails.
Always the same.
Almost like fucking plastic Barbie dolls.
But then again, most of the guys liked that plastic doll type.
I just had a thing for curvy brunettes with gorgeous emerald eyes.
Jabbing the button thankfully brought the elevator quickly, the silver doors sliding open, but just as they were closing again, a hand caught the steel panel.
A big man with a square-shaped head and an ill-fitting black suit peered inside, his eyes catching mine. “Conner Smith,” he said. “I need you to come with me.”
Considering he looked and sounded like law enforcement, that got me more than a few sideways looks from the guys.
“Who’s asking?”
This was from Raph.
Two of the few words Raph had given this entire trip—after he’d let them all go during that first night of whiskey and raging and…hurt.
My friend was so fucking hurt that the pulsing radiation of it made my teeth ache anytime I was near Raph.
But he’d snapped out of it for me.
And fuck, after the voice in my head all night, that hung heavy on my heart.
“Mr. Henderson would like a word.”
Mr. Henderson.
