Page 50 of Faking it with the Billionaire
Her gaze tightens, and her tongue swipes across her top lip before jutting out slightly to the side. “You don’t have to remind me how to do my job. I know what I was hired for.”
“Good.” I steal her fresh cup of coffee, untouched, and take it with me outside. I need some air and a few minutes away from Emerson.
“Bastard,” she mutters under her breath on my way outside.
I choose to ignore her remark, stepping out and shutting the door behind me. I need to get my head screwed on for game night.
* * *
I don’t see Emerson again before heading out to catch up with the team before the game. Bristol is at the park with Lia and Em. I’m sure they’re fine, but I really wish I’d installed some sort of tracking device on the nanny and my fake girlfriend’s phones.
At least if something happened to them, I’d know their last known whereabouts.
“You seem distracted,” Jasper says, pulling me aside in the locker room. There’s a lot of noise and commotion, the team getting ready to take on an undefeated champion for the season. “Is it because the guys are groaning about our last four losses, and we’re about to get our asses kicked?”
I’m not looking forward to playing the Island Bruisers. Every time we play their team, James and I get into it on the ice. We throw insults back and forth as often as the puck, and we both end up beating the shit out of each other until we get thrown into the penalty box.
I don’t want Em or Bristol to witness that tonight.
I huff at his remark. “Hell no. We’re not going to lose tonight. Em’s going to be in the stands.”
“You didn’t give her tickets to the private box?”
I glance at my younger brother. “No. I want her to experience the game like it’s meant to be.”
Jasper grins. “Do you even know if your girlfriend likes hockey?”
I avoid his question, unsure about the answer. Although she’s never really swooned over the fact I play for the NHL or the sport, and I can’t even recall her asking me a single question about hockey.
“I want her to see me up close,” I say, smacking him on the back. “She can’t do that from those private boxes.”
“Right.” Jasper’s eyes narrow as he studies me. “Is Emerson really your girlfriend? I mean, I know the whole nanny act was a cover. Is that what this is too?”
Fuck. If Jasper doesn’t believe that Em is my girlfriend, then no one else is going to believe it, either. I have to convince him, no matter the stakes.
“Are you asking because you want a piece of her? Because she’s mine,” I growl instinctively. The thought of him or anyone else so much as taking her out on a date makes my stomach knot and my hands bunch into fists.
Jasper tosses his hands up into the air. “Just checking, bro. She’s cute, but the two of you haven’t really been seen at any after-parties, and she hasn’t been invited to the wives’ room. I assumed parties weren’t really her thing, but the guys talk—”
“You’ve been talking about Em?” The room feels several degrees hotter, and I scour the room. “Who else?” I want to know what they’ve been saying aboutmy girlfriend. Even if it’s fake, no one else knows the truth.
Jasper shrugs and shuffles his feet, avoiding the question. “Just the guys.” He doesn’t give me a straight answer, and I grab him by his jersey, shoving him up against the wall.
“Who?” I growl.
“Whoa!” Noah shouts as he jumps between us, pushing me back and keeping me from pelting my brother.
Owen jumps in, protecting my little brother. He’s twice the size of Jasper and not the least bit apologetic in his tone. “Save it for the ice,” Owen says. “If you’re going to break someone’s neck, do it to that asshole James Fitzgerald.”
“Walk away, Greyson,” Coach Malone says.
Coach refers to most of us by last name, especially when he’s pissed at us. But given that I was on the team before Jasper, I’m Greyson. And Jasper is always Jasper.
There’s no question which one of us he’s referring to, and I let out a huff before heading out of the locker room for a beat.
I don’t expect anyone to follow me, but a minute later, the doors open from behind, and I hear heavy footsteps.
“A word.” Coach Malone is standing there, arms folded across his chest. “Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on? Or should I ask your baby brother?”
