I set my phone aside and stare at the ceiling. The conversation with StatMan should've made me feel better, but it only highlights what's missing. He wants me through a screen. Silas wants me at arm's length.
Neither one is enough.
Chapter Fourteen
Silas
The BeastMode+ Endurance Drink sponsorship gala is everything I hate. Bright lights. Fake smiles. Men in suits who measure your worth by your last stat line and whether you'll move product. I'm stuffed into a jacket that feels like a straitjacket, tie strangling me slowly, standing in a ballroom that smells like money and cologne that’s trying too hard. I feel like a circus sideshow act that’s being brought out and paraded around.
Look at the freak! Isn't he terrifying?
It doesn't help that I tower over everyone else, or that I'm built like a big, boxy refrigerator that knows how to skate. They call me Ice Man. I let everyone think that’s all I am, because it's easier than admitting the truth.
I'm not cold. I'm just terrified of letting anyone close enough to see how badly I want things I can't have. So I play the part. Stone-faced. Unaffected. Frosty inside and out. Better to be the machine than to let them see me break.
"Silas!" Enzo spots me. It isn't hard, even in this crowd of giants from my team. I stand out no matter where I go. Enzomight be tall and look good in a designer suit, but he's easily almost half a foot shorter than me.
A vindictive little voice in the back of my head whispers,Scout notices the height difference. She'd probably be excited that my dick is bigger than Enzo's, too.
Keeping the smirk off my face is impossible.
"Enzo." I cut through the crowd easily, because people naturally move out of my way. It's the same here as it is on the ice. "I'd say it's nice to see you, but we both know that would be a lie."
Enzo gives me an oily smile. I size him up, wondering how sugar-sweet Scout ever fell for this idiot. He's going to tolerate whatever comes out of my mouth because I make him a fat paycheck.
"Circulate," he says. "The sponsors are looking for someone intelligent and personable. We're trying to sell you as that combo."
I nod, looking around. Mostly I’m thinking that I should just cut Enzo loose right now. Yeah, he is making deals for me. He’s brought me a lot of success. But I can’t even look at him without feeling guilty.
Scout is my temporary roommate and nothing more, but I still feel a lot of loyalty to her. Even though I have no real reason to, other than despising Enzo’s treatment of Scout.
"Hey." Enzo snaps his fingers at me. "Go talk to the sponsors. Try not to be a fucking caveman. This is a six-inch tap-in, Huxley. Don't let it bounce off your damn stick."
Glaring at him, I shake my head and move toward a group of BeastMode execs. They're the shortest men in this room and have been cackling amongst themselves the entire time I've been here. I suck in a deep breath and put my game face on.
I can do this. One more obligation I have to grit my teeth through before I can finally cut him loose.
Working my way over to the group, I introduce myself. There are the usual joking comments about my height and frame. Questions about how I keep my fitness level so high, as if I don't work out four to eight hours per day, every day. Talk about the product and how I could fit it into my routine to maximize my workouts. Blah blah blah.
"I'm actually already a fan," I lie. "I'd... uh... be excited to represent a product I actually use."
I've never once tasted BeastMode+, but I'm sure it has the same sickly sweet fake cherry flavor as every other endurance drink I've ever had. One of the execs claps me on the arm because he's too short to reach my shoulder. He tells me the team's very interested in me and my story.
Great. Just great. Someone just shoot me now and put me out of my misery.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Scout. She has a clipboard and a headset. She's wearing a black dress that hits just above her knees. It’s modest and professional, though seeing her in a semi-dressy outfit does something to me.
But the way it fits her body isn't professional at all. Not to me. Her curls are pulled back, showing her neck. She's not trying to be noticed. Too bad that’s not remotely possible. Has she even seen herself in the mirror lately? All curves and temptation.
I stare, willing my cock to calm down. I didn't know she'd be here tonight. If I had, I would've asked her to be my date. Not that she enjoys my company or anything. But at least I could hover close and put my hand on her lower back.
I'm pathetic. So desperate for affection I'm dreaming of stealing it in public where she can't make a scene.
I watch Scout adjust a banner that's crooked. A waiterpasses by her and she grabs him, pointing to a group that's looking around for service. She smiles at a sponsor's wife who looks lost and engages her for a few moments. The BeastMode execs mill around me, making jokes and suggesting promo ideas.
But my eyes are only for Scout. She's always working. She makes everyone else's life easier while she disappears into the background.
It makes me want to drag her front and center. Everyone should get to see what I see.
