Page 55 of Twisted Shot
Because his messages make her feel wanted in a way that’s both filthy and weirdly tender. Like she’s someone to be devoured and adored at the same time.
She slips to the far side of the suite, bracing against the railing, tucked away from the kids and chaos where so no one can see her blush. Her fingers fly over her phone as she types back, heart fluttering.
I’ve been thinking about your mouth all day. But not for talking.
That so? Tell me where you want my mouth, Daisy.
I want it on my neck. Slow at first. Then lower. Much lower.
Fuck. Are you trying to kill me?
I’m making sure you’re motivated.
I’m one wrong thought away from finding you right now and reminding you what happens when I get you alone in the dark.
I remember everything. Especially the part where you walked away.
There’s a long pause before his reply appears.
I won’t next time. Say the word and I’m yours.
Before she can respond, the suite door opens and in walks Jim Pearce, flanked by Roger and other team executives, dressed in a navy blazer with a Whalers pin on the lapel. When he sees Mila, his weathered face lights up.
“Mila,” Jim says, stridingforward. “This is...incredible.”
Yesterday’s hospital event had been a massive success—donor pledges up, media coverage glowing, and social media ablaze with clips of players goofing around with the kids. Today had been all logistics. Mila and Naomi had set up the suite for the children and their families, ensuring every gift bag was perfect, every photo op seamless.
Mila is exhausted but thrilled as she shakes Jim’s hand warmly. “Thank you. I’m so glad you made it. The kids are having a blast, and the hospital staff has already sent glowing feedback.”
Richard inches forward. “Jim, wonderful to see you. I trust you’ve noticed the media presence? We coordinated with three local outlets?—”
Jim waves him off with a polite nod, his focus still on Mila.
“Mila, you’ve outdone yourself. My wife would’ve loved this.”
Mila softens. “You mentioned she was a pediatric nurse.”
Jim nods. “She passed a few years ago. But nights like this? Community. Joy. You brought it to life. She’d have liked you. You’ve got heart.”
Mila’s cheeks warm, but she keeps her tone professional. “Thank you, Jim. We’ve got more coming, too. Game-day school visits, community nights, and the gala’s shaping up to be a major event.”
Jim’s eyes twinkle. “And you’ve even made Richard look useful. That’s no small feat.”
Naomi chokes beside her.
Richard wears his most practiced smile, twitching slightly at the corners. “Well, teamwork, of course,” he says.
But Jim isn’t listening. He’s already turned to greet a parent, bending to shake a boy’s hand and compliment his painted face.
Mila steps back beside Naomi, who leans in and whispers, “That was better than wine.”
It was. Mila would love nothing more than to savor Richard’s humiliation like a fine vintage—but time’s ticking, and she’s got a room full of sugared-up kids to wrangle.
She claps her hands. “Okay, crew! Who’s ready to meet the team?”
The kids erupt with excitement. Even the shy ones suddenly sittaller. A handful of them grip foam fingers or wear freshly purchased jerseys, eyes shining with anticipation.
They head down as a group—kids, parents, staff, a few volunteers, and Naomi trailing behind in platform heels she absolutely must be regretting.
