Page 42 of Play Dirty

That’s the opposite of my life. Well, it’s quieter now than it was before, but I’m nowhere near ready to retire, which means travel and fashion shows and photo shoots all over the world. How would I do that with a husband and three kids at home? Especially when he has to do the same type of thing for hockey?

Even if the kids aren’t mine, I’d have to be at least partially responsible for them, assuming he gets the custody he so desperately wants. We’d have to compromise, and I know as a woman who essentially works for herself—because I can take jobs or not, my schedule is flexible—I’d be the one compromising.

I got into a bad habit of letting the men in my life make my choices—what dress I should wear, where to have dinner, which jobs I should take—and I’m never going to do that again. No matter how tempting it is.

No matter how temptingheis.

At my core, I’m a lot less complicated than people think. I live a glamorous life so behind the scenes I just want… simplicity. Comfort. Love.

That’s all I ever wanted but for whatever reason, I latched on to men who took advantage of that.

Except I don’t think Marty would ever take advantage of me. In fact, he would do the opposite of that—Marty would give me wings.

That’s terrifying because I can’t be the woman he needs.

No matter how much I want to be.

Chapter13

Marty

I getto Club Dynamite around half past midnight and there are cars, lines of people, and paparazzi everywhere. The guy at the door gives me a bored look but when I tell him I’m on the list, he checks my ID and obligingly lets me in.

Other than crazy strobe lights on the dance floor, it’s dark inside, but my eyes quickly adjust and I spot Stevie right away.

She’s sitting in a booth, surrounded by cameras and crew—making out with the guy I assume is L’il Barracuda.

For a second I feel a white-hot shot of jealousy.

Then, as I watch a little more closely, it peters out.

Honestly, it’s more like G-rated porn because despite the fact that they have their tongues in each other’s mouths, it’s pretty tame. His hands are on her back, and her arms are loosely around his neck. There’s an illusion of passion but if you pay attention, it’s not even close. The camera may not be shooting the angle, but from where I’m standing, I can see her knees are pressed closely together and he’s not trying to grope her.

The director is yelling out commands, a few of the extras accidentally move into the shot, and then they have to start over.

It goes on about fifteen minutes before Stevie and L’'l Barracuda pull apart. She says something to him that makes him laugh and then she gets to her feet.

I lift my hand to get her attention and a smile breaks out on her face.

“Hi!” She hurries over to me and some inner Neanderthal in me wraps an arm around her, pulling her close.

Like she’s mine.

And I’m letting everyone know it.

“Hey.” I smile down at her and press a light kiss on the tip of her nose.

“I can’t believe you came.” Her face is a mixture of pleasure and disbelief.

I’m still a little surprised I came too.

It’s nearly one in the morning, and my kids start moving around six thirty. Seven thirty if I’m lucky. Mom and I usually tackle the morning routine together but I left her a note telling her I might be out all night. She can handle it, and enjoys being with them, but I feel a little guilty.

Only a little, though.

She’ll be gone soon, and then it’ll be just me again, so it’s good to get a break from twenty-four-seven parenting.

“I wanted to see you…work,” I say after a moment.

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