Neon & Nets (Venom Next Gen #1)

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Knight

“So far, this is good.” Dante, seated at the head of the conference table, steeples his fingers. “Not great, but good.”

“I thought there would be snacks,” Viktor mumbles. “What’s the point of a business meeting that doesn’t include snacks?”

Dante slams his palm against the table. “You’ll get snacks when you earn them!”

“We won our first game!” Viktor retorts, crossing his arms. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

A few other players exchange glances, probably taken aback that Viktor would dare to mouth off to Dante like this. A few of the more seasoned players grimace and shake their heads. Viktor, however, juts his chin out and meets Dante’s glaring eyes. He probably feels untouchable, given that his dad is also at the table with us. Noah and Briggs are here today, although the PR lady with the baby is conspicuously absent.

“There was a hint of the old magic at the game last night,” Dante says in a clipped voice. “I want all the magic. Then you can have all the snacks you want. Hell, I’ll have morning skate catered every single time, assuming you shits can get your act together.”

“Don’t call them shits,” Sergio says. “I don’t want to have to field another call from HR.”

“These shits wouldn’t dare.” Dante glares around the table, meeting the eyes of every player.

I count back from ten and remind myself how much Dante is paying me. Truth be told, I feel bad for the other guys. At least I knew what I was getting into when I signed my contract, given that I grew up around Dante.

Once he’s satisfied that we’re all planning to keep our heads down and stay in line, Dante whirls toward Briggs, sitting a few spots away from him. “Where do we stand on this, Sawyer?” he demands.

Briggs smiles innocently enough. “Are you asking me about the status of the magic?”

Beside him, Noah snickers.

Dante swivels his chair a few degrees. “Something funny, Abbott?”

Noah shakes his head. “No, sir. We’re all about some magic.” He can’t hide his grin, though.

Dante must decide that a little insubordination isn’t worth quibbling over. “Wonderful. Now, Sawyer, where are my fucking kids?”

Briggs shifts into business mode, skimming a list on his holowatch. “Well, we’re working on Beck. Even though Anders is out of the country, I managed to track him down.”

“I’m glad you managed to find time to do your fucking job in the midst of your busy baby soothing schedule. Congratulations.” Dante rolls his eyes. “Where are the rest of them? What have you done to locate them? I want action on this. Why do you think I gave you a full fucking team of scouts all reporting to you?”

Briggs shrugs. “Because you love having more people to yell at? I don’t know. I’m just asking my neighbors where their kids are at.”

If Dante hears him, he gives no indication. He pounds his fist into his palm, eyes narrowed, staring into a future only he can see. “I need a beast on the ice. I need someone who makes the other team shake in their skates.”

Briggs lights up. “I know someone who could do that. Knight, what’s Knova doing for work these days?”

My lips part, and my eyes go glassy. I can see it now: Knova slapping on a pair of skates and beating the living crap out of Viktor at every game. I’m pretty sure roughing up your own teammate isn’t what Dante’s looking for. “I think she’s in between—”

“Not her!” Dante yelps, cutting me off. “Jesus! You want to clear the stands, too? No. Keep her off the ice and far away from me. Those damn Hales and their fists of fury.” He shudders.

“My fists are normal, sir,” I tell him, holding them up as evidence. “No fury here.”

Dante puffs out his cheeks and shakes his head. “Don’t you dare approach her. She doesn’t even have a background in hockey, for Christ’s sake. Stop making things difficult, and just get me the magic. Capiche?”

“I got it. It’s all under control.” I’m pretty sure that Briggs is using the same tone on Dante that he employs with all the babies he mellows.

It doesn’t work on grown men, apparently. Or at least not this grown man. “If it was under control, wouldn’t Tweedle Dee Dumb and Tweedle Dee Dumber Sawyer be here already?”

For the first time, Briggs looks pissed. He’s usually kind of a goof, with what Viv has officially dubbed “labrador energy.” In other words, it’s all fun and games until you mess with the people he loves. His nostrils flare as he exhales. “Actually, my daughter doesn’t play hockey.”

Dante must see the warning signs because—uncharacteristically—he backs off. “But you do have a son. What’s his position ?

“He’s a center.”

“I want him.” Dante ticks names off his fingers. “I want Newberry. And I even want those fucking Rossis. They have to be better players than their father.”

“Enzo is still in college,” I say. “And Arturo’s in high school.”

“Did I ask you, Hale?” Dante glowers at me. “Fine, so I have to play the long game. I can wait. We can get a foot in the door with Enzo, have a contract drafted for whenever he’s ready to go pro. Don’t know why these kids need college degrees, anyway. They cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, and they’re basically worthless in the end.”

“Because they have aspirations beyond being pawns in your hockey game,” Noah says. “Imagine that.”

Dante flaps a hand like he’s shooing off a fly. “Waste of time. What about Sutcliffe?”

“Oliver and Mona didn’t have kids.”

Dante shudders. “Who does that? No one to carry on the family name?” The man’s eyes narrow into slits. “Shaw?”

Briggs flicks his wrist. “He has one daughter.”

“Christ almighty. Only a daughter. They’re about as worthless as college degrees. All they do is spend money and whine all damn day.”

Briggs, who has two daughters he adores, makes a disgusted expression. “I mean, have you considered slapping some skates on Sergio?”

Sergio raises both hands in self-defense. “No. No way. I don’t skate.”

Dante is equally adamant when he says, “He barely walks.”

Briggs tents his hands in front of his face. “What about Nixon Caldwell’s kid? He wasn’t a player on our Cup-winning team, but he’s a local. The fans would love it.”

Dante’s eyes narrow into slits and he gives such a long pause, I’m afraid Briggs broke him. “Freezing ice on Satan’s ass crack would be more likely than me signing a motherfucking Caldwell.”

Sergio leans forward. “But Dad…”

“Enough! Just shut up and get my magic back.” He gets to his feet and stalks out of the conference room, leaving Sergio to hurry after him. The poor guy really got the short end of the stick. Viktor and I may be following in our fathers’ footsteps, but in his case, it’s literal.

Once they’re gone, chatter fills the room. Tristan is talking to one of our centers, who’s distraught over the news that Dante has a replacement in mind already.

“I’ve been on the team for three years,” he complains. “And now I’m going to get thrown over for Briggs Sawyer’s kid? They play in college so they can be developed! Learn the skills needed to play NHL level hockey! Dante hasn’t even seen him!”

Viktor stretches his arms overhead until his shoulder pops. “Assuming he even agrees to play. You get that Dante’s plan is insane, right? Like… this doesn’t happen. And why did the rest of us have to be here for this rant?”

“That’s just Dante.” Noah shrugs. “I warned you. He may have allowed Sergio to put his name on the door, but the old man’s never going to change.”

Briggs nods. “If anything, he just gets grumpier with time. Like a cheese. Blue cheese, maybe. The really moldy kind.”

Viktor claps our current first-line center on the back. “Look at it this way, Scott: Dante isn’t going to rebuild the team overnight. The better we do this year, the better team you’ll end up with if and when you get traded, right? Maybe then you can work for someone normal and not this clown show we have now. Besides, nobody’s future is set in stone. What’s to say this plan is even going to work? Briggs’s kid could refuse to sign on the dotted line. I could get injured. Knight could break up with Sofia and decide he doesn’t want to stick around.”

I reel back as if he’s slapped me. Only, I’ve gotten into slapping competitions with Viktor before, and they didn’t sting this much.

God, he could be right. If Sofia and I get married, then my five-year plan is made. But if she decides she doesn’t want me… am I really willing to stick around Vegas and watch her date someone else? Make googly eyes at him? Imagine him licking her sweet pussy and driving balls deep inside her? Move in with him? Have his kids?

My stomach drops to my trainers.

I’ve never considered that before, and I don’t want to think about it now. It’s not going to happen. It can’t.

No. Fucking. Way.

I want my perfect future just as badly as Dante wants his. Unlike him, though, I’m not going to pitch a fit and start lashing out if the person I want most refuses me.

But we’re good, right? I just need to show Sofia how much she means to me. I thought that I had done that the night of the home opener, but maybe I wasn’t as clear as I needed to be. My plan isn’t going to fail because I won’t let it. We’re perfect for each other, and I’m in this for the long haul.

All I need to do is prove it.

I’ve known the woman my entire life. How hard can it be?