first time since I’d signed with the Reapers my rookie year, I noticed just how fit the guy was. Good, he’ll be able to lift her.
“Give me your hands, London,” Silas ordered.
She lifted her arms, and I gripped her hips, noticing everything except the way her motion lifted the hemline of her dress. Nope, I kept my eyes locked on Silas like the good guy I was trying desperately to be.
Then I lifted London straight up. She weighed next to nothing, and the heat of her skin blazed through that dress, warming my hands in the few seconds it took Silas to get a good grip on her.
“I’ve got you,” he promised, so I knew he did.
Silas didn’t break promises.
He pulled her out of the elevator, and then Axel helped me out and into the hallway of Silas’s private suite of offices.
I gained my feet as London leaned back against the wall, sucking in lungfuls of air as if the reality of it took this long to hit her in full.
“The others are on their way up,” I heard Silas say to some of the others who had helped pry open the doors.
“We didn’t all fit in the first load,” Cannon said, rolling his shoulders back. “Only your elevator was broken.”
“Thank you,” I replied.
Sawyer, the other Reaper goalie, clapped my shoulder as I nodded at him, walking straight toward London. I needed to make sure she was really okay.
The private elevator dinged, and three other Reapers walked into the hallway. The first two were rookies I barely recognized but the third—
My stomach dropped all five floors to the fucking basement.
“No fucking way,” Cannon muttered, coming to my side. He was the only one in this hallway who knew, and that was only because he’d been there that night.
“London?” The guy’s eyes frantically searched the hallway.
“Maxim!” she cried, wrapping her arms around herself and walking straight into his goddamn arms like she’d been there a thousand times.
He pulled her in and held her tight, his eyes closing in…relief? Yep, that was relief as he ushered her into one of the many conference rooms that looked out over Charleston, taking her out of my line of sight.
What the hell was he to her? What the hell was he doing here?
Axel’s brow furrowed as he looked over at me. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Guess I’d said that out loud.
Silas turned toward us, putting his hands in his pockets. “I just signed him yesterday. Right before you, in fact,” he told me like it wasn’t the most explosive shit to ever rock my world. “Paid a pretty penny, too. And yeah, I’ve heard he’s an asshole to work with, but we needed some strength on that left wing since Lukas retired last season.”
That. Fucking. Prick. Was. On. My. Team. He was in my arena, with his hands all over my girl. The logic in me retreated from the argument that she wasn’t exactly mine.
“No.” I shook my head.
“Oh, shit,” Cannon muttered next to me. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Every muscle in my body vibrated with barely restrained violence. “You signed him.”
“Was that Maxim Zolotov?” Axel asked, glancing between me and where my stare was currently burning holes in the conference room doorway.
“Yep,” Cannon answered.
“Anyone want to clue me in here?” Silas asked.
“Holy shit,” Sawyer muttered. “You move just like him, especially glove-side. How didn’t I see that?”
“I am nothing like him!” I snapped.
Sawyer’s hands shot up like he was under arrest.
“Someone tell me what the fuck is going on!” Silas demanded.
The hallway fell silent, but even the quiet couldn’t help my thoughts wrap around this dumpster fire. He’d already consumed the family I’d been given by biology, and now the fucker was moving in on the family I’d chosen? No. No. No.
“I think you signed his brother,” Sawyer said slowly.
“Shut up,” Cannon barked toward our friend.
“He’s not my fucking brother!” I growled. Fuck biology.
Silas tensed, taking in the information at the genius rate the tech guru was known for. “Your birth certificate says unknown,” he said softly, moving directly in front of me. “Are you telling me that Sergei Zolotov is your biological father?”
I nodded once and once only because Silas was the only person who could solve this shitstorm of a problem.
“So Maxim Zolotov…” Silas studied me, no doubt choosing his words or lack thereof carefully.
I nodded again.
“Holy shit,” someone mumbled as the subject of my worst nightmare walked out of the office with his phone on his ear, his eyes