Hockey Billionaire's Hat Trick

        My hands, shaking from hunger, dropped my favorite dessert plate. I should’ve taken that as an omen. Instead, I bit back my tears, swept up the pieces, and returned to the party with a smile plastered on my face.

        Bob sat out in the living room, mingling with our guests while I set the table. He truly shined as the center of attention. It was his night, after all.

        He would be taking his father’s place as CEO of his family’s cosmetics business. Some stockholders were nervous about the exchange, but everyone in the know knew that there was nothing to worry about. Bob’s mother was the real brains behind the operation.

        I kept these thoughts to myself, of course. Bob deserved nothing but my unwavering support. And he always got it.

        I set the last plate of chicken marsala on the table and smiled. Perfect. It was worth the pain clawing at my stomach.

        “Dinner!” I called out to the living room.

        Soon, everyone had gathered around the table and taken their assigned seats. Bob’s father pulled out the chair for Bob’s mother. Bob did the same for me before taking his seat at the head of the table.

        Bob grabbed his glass of rosé and raised his hand in a toast.

        “I would like to thank everyone for coming,” he began. “To Outer U’s investors, without whom this company would not be possible.”

        Laughter broke out. A few men in black suits with black ties raised their glasses in acknowledgement.

        “To my friends and family, without whom I would not be possible.”

        Bob patted his father on the shoulder and then kissed his mother’s hand.

        “And to my lovely wife. God bless her for sticking with me for eight long years.”

        Bob smiled at me, and I smiled back. Applause broke out, and everyone sipped at their wine.

        “Let’s eat!”

        Bob took his seat. We were about to dig into their entrée when a soft cough caught our attention.

        When I looked up, I saw a familiar woman standing at the opposite end of the table: Marsha, the owner of Marsha’s Majesties, a flower shop a block from our house. Several of the vases around the house were decorated with her bouquets. Petite and red-headed with a modest chest, she was pretty enough and kind but never stood out in a crowd.

        “Marsha?” I spoke first. “What are you doing here?”

        I didn’t remember inviting her.

        “Well…I wanted to talk to Bob, actually.”

        Marsha clutched something in one hand. The other stayed in her jacket pocket.

        I raised my brow at her. “About what?”

        “I…” Marsha looked to Bob, as if asking for permission, then raised her hand to reveal a pregnancy test. “Bob, I’m pregnant.”

        My heart raced. “Why would he care about that?”

        Marsha smiled weakly. “It’s his. Bob, I’m pregnant with your child.”

        As though to add insult to injury, she pulled her other hand out of her pocket to reveal a giant diamond ring.

        “And look at what my…husband bought for me!”

        The beating of my heart sped so quickly my ribs hurt. This couldn’t be real. I turned to Bob to see his reaction.

        Please, please be a mistake. Please deny it, I thought.

        Bob’s jaw dropped. He set his utensils next to his untouched chicken. Then he ran past me to Marsha and took her hand in both of his.

        “I can’t believe it. You’re pregnant!”

        He examined the ring on Marsha’s other hand and gave her a knowing smile. The bastard.

        “Your…husband must love you a lot, to have gotten you this.”

        My racing heart burst. Tears stung the edges of my eyes.

        “You know,” Bob continued, “I’ve gone eight years childless because of my wife. Now, my family will finally get the heir it desperately needs.”

        I waited for someone to defend me. That person never came.

        Instead, their dinner guests stood up and began to congratulate the happy couple—my husband and our florist. I wanted to cry, wanted to shout. All I could do was smile.

        There was no use losing face now.

        I couldn’t just stay still. I walked around and refilled people’s quickly depleting wine. Suddenly, I clutched at my stomach.

        It felt as though a dozen gremlins were tearing at my stomach lining. I hadn’t eaten all day, and no one had come to relieve me of my hosting duties. Bob didn’t care, nor did his parents.

        Watching them and Marsha bask in the glow of our guests’ attention and acting like a servant at my own party were just too much. The hot, sharp pain began crawling up my stomach and into my esophagus. I couldn’t take it anymore.

        I dragged my slightly bloated, tortured body out to the garden.  No one would notice. Bob knew I had stomach problems, but he wouldn’t care.

        At the stone wall, I leaned over and dry-heaved. My stomach pushed and pushed, but nothing would come out. I cried and coughed and gagged, praying for it all to be over.

        “Ma’am, are you okay?” a soft male voice asked.

        It sounded so familiar. It brought forth memories of the ice rink, the smell of jerseys and helmets, and early-morning practices. More importantly, it brought back memories of him.

        Barnett.

        A tall, elegant young man with the lean muscles needed to wear all that hockey gear, you might even call him beautiful. I had a crush on him as a student, but I wouldn’t have ever approached that sex god alone back then, let alone told him how I felt.

        No, there was no way that this man was Barnett. And there was no way I wanted him to be Barnett. Not now, not tonight.

        “Ma’am, are you okay?” he repeated. He put a strong, firm hand on my back.

        I looked up to see his face, but it was hidden by the darkness.

        “No, not really,” I finally replied.

        “Is there something I can do for you? Can I get you some water?”

        I shook my head.

        “Anyone I can go find for you? Your husband, perhaps?”

        Im laughed bitterly. “If you can pry him away from his pregnant mistress.”

        “His—oh.” Recognition must have dawned on him. “I’m so sorry, Mrs.—”

        “Anna. Please, just call me Anna.”

        “I’m sorry, Anna. That was insensitive of me.”

        “Insensitive of you? You’re not the one who cheated on me.”

        “Still, I should have been more careful with my words.”

        His apology warmed my heart a little. The gremlins in my stomach started to retreat as his hand rubbed my back.

        “For what it’s worth,” he continued, “I think your husband’s an idiot.”

        I laughed, but it was forced.

        “He was right, though,” I whispered. “We have no children. He thinks it’s my fault.”

        “Since when is he a doctor?” the man asked. “Besides, it’s not the end of the world if you don’t have kids.”

        “It’s the end of his world.” I sighed. “Or his family’s company, anyway.”

        “A good businessperson finds a way around such problems.”

        “He did. Marsha.”

        We stood there in silence for a few minutes. His hand still rubbed my back. I couldn’t say I didn’t like it, and it had settled my stomach.

        “Feeling any better?”

        “Yeah.” I shivered as a breeze blew by us.

        “Cold?” His concern showed in his voice.

        “A little.”

        “Here, take my jacket.”

        “Oh, I couldn’t—”

        Before I could finish my objection, the man had taken off his jacket and draped it around me.

        “I insist.”

        His scent rolled over me as he leaned into me. His deep voice reverberated from my ears all the way to my groin. I couldn’t help myself as my underwear grew moist.

        I had never felt like that before.

 

I really wanted to know if he was Barnett or not---

The man I used to fantasize about having sex with all night.