content with the way things were. The last concept would be the hardest for her to understand. Her family talked out issues. Tried to fix things. My family . . . to say they didn’t care seemed cold, but it was closer to the truth than saying we brushed issues under the rug.
“Okay, my family. My mother, Malla Hammerquist, is one of Sweden’s premier architects. She has an advanced degree in engineering and is a senior project manager at one of the most respected companies in Sweden. She married Lars Kagg. He’s a scientist and holds several patents and in his spare time is an adviser to the Nobel Committee. Birget is a child prodigy on the piano. She’s studied all over the world, and to be honest, I don’t even know if she lives in Stockholm on a regular basis. Then there’s my father, Bjorn Landberg, footballer extraordinaire, who, on top of all the records he holds in Sweden in the junior leagues, played for AC Milan and won two World Cups and a bunch of other championships as well as a gold medal in the Olympics. He never married, has no other children, but he did purchase a vineyard in Italy with his millions. Oh, an interesting historical fact about the Landberg family. They are what’s referred to as ‘unintroduced nobility’ in Sweden, meaning they are one of the oldest recorded families in national history, dating back to the 1300s. They are not of noble birth, but they are welcomed at the Swedish Royal Court. So there are no titles in the Landberg family, but my father and his brother, as well as my cousin, have been invited to functions with the King and Queen of Sweden and the royal family on several occasions.
“And then there’s me, Annika. ‘The Hammer.’ I’m a genetic throwback. I’m athletic—but I’m not compactly built like my father. I didn’t choose a civilized and beloved sport like soccer. I’m smart—but I’m not brilliant like my mother. Although I managed to earn a mechanical engineering degree, when my hockey career is over I intend to ‘waste’ it working on cars. I have always been ‘out of sight, out of mind’ for my parents. They don’t think about me, because I’ve never been a problem. I’ve been focused on hockey—it’s all I’ve ever cared about because it’s been the only constant in my life. They did provide for me. They neither supported my life choices nor denounced them. At least publicly. They’ve disapproved privately. I do not hear from my mother unless I’ve done something that has caught her interest on the other side of the world. When the video of the two blondes was posted? She called me and said she was disappointed to see proof that I’d turned out to be exactly like my father. And I can’t honestly remember the last time I even saw my father. Does any of this bother me? Not as much as you might think. I don’t have the kind of relationship with my family that you do. I worry that will be what bothers you most about this. I don’t want you to see me like they do.”
When I saw the look of shock on Annika’s face, I feared I’d just made a huge mistake. I’d never told anyone this much about my family life and history. Peter knew, of course, but he kept it from being part of my bio. I’d been in one semiserious relationship in college. When my girlfriend found out my father’s name, she hounded me to change my name to his so I could reap all the benefits. It took me two months, but I figured out she thought I’d end up with some kind of title, and she’d be a princess if she married me or some stupid thing. After that, I didn’t mention it to anyone.
I started to get up from the bed.
But Annika jumped me. “Oh no, Mr. Big Bad Hockey Player. You don’t get to tell me that and then do a breakaway. First of all, you should know that nothing you tell me about your family will change how I see you.”
My gut unclenched a little.
“Second of all, I’m glad you don’t go out of your way to try to please them. They are missing out. Doesn’t sound like you’re missing out on much by doing your own thing.”
My eyes searched hers, and the ferocity I saw surprised me. She wasn’t saying this because she felt sorry for me.
“Third of all . . .” She whapped me on the chest. “You’re an engineer? You didn’t think you could’ve mentioned that at some point? Because how is it fair that you’re this massively talented hockey star and now I find out you have a damn math brain too?”
Annika Lund, I think I love you.
“Just for that oversight, I oughta make you fix Dallas’s car. It is such a piece of junk. After we left the party the other night, I swore we were going to break down on the side of the road.”
“I’m not working on cars as in fixing them. I’m working on them as in . . . designing them.”
She smirked. “Like Volvos?”
“I interned there for a semester. It’s a great company. I own a Volvo.” Then I proceeded to tell her everything about the model I owned that was different than what she could buy in the States.
“You are totally a car guy, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I try to spend a few weeks of my off-season working at the auto facility my engineering professor’s friend owns in Ängelholm.”
Her face went somber. “Axl, I’ve grown up around car guys. My brothers and my cousins are all collectors. So I know more than a little about cars. And I think you’re about to tell me that you’ve actually been inside the Koenigsegg Factory?”
“Not only have I been in the factory? I’ve worked there. I’ve seen some of the upcoming designs. And brace yourself, but I own one.”
She gasped. “You own a Koenigsegg?”
“Yes. A CCX.”
“Is it here? In the States?”
“Yes, you were very close to it at the party. It has its own private garage in my apartment complex.”
“No offense, because you are a sex god, but I think I just had a mini-orgasm.”
I chuckled.
“Those are the sexiest cars in the world.”
“I agree. The power is incredible.”
“Will you take me for a ride?”
I brought her mouth to mine and kissed her until she was writhing against me. Then I rolled her onto her back. “All this talk of rides . . .” I reached for the box of condoms I’d placed on the bedside table.
“Let me,” she said, knocking my hand away and pulling out a package.
I’d braced myself above her, allowing her just enough room to snake her hand between us. When her fingers closed around me with a delicate, but sexy “I want this now” tug, I hissed in a breath.
Annika arched up as I drove into her hard.
No rush. Make it last. That’s what she wanted last time.
The sting of her fingernails digging into my ass as I moved, the nip of her teeth on my throat, the feel of her fingers in my hair, just about overloaded every pleasure point I possessed and I had to chant slow, slow, slow in my head so I didn’t go into beast mode on her.
Then she pulled my hair, forcing me to look at her.
“Show me,” she said in a husky whisper.
“Show you what?”
“How you got the nickname ‘The Hammer.’” She licked my throat. “It’s a sturdy bed. I’m a sturdy girl. Give me Hammer-time.”
That was when I knew.
I definitely loved this woman.
Twenty-two
___
ANNIKA
After spending two spectacular days alone with Axl, I was ready to face the world again.
Or I thought I was.
Peter had asked to meet with me at his office. As far as I knew, he hadn’t talked to Axl about last weekend’s party/other woman incident, which made me think he’d been biding his time, waiting for it to blow over.
I half hoped Peter’s summons had to do with the Haversman pitch. I almost had it ready, so even if he said, You’re off on a plane to Tangiers tonight to pitch your proposal, I’d be fully prepared. But just to be on the safe side, I hired a car service to drive me to Peter’s office in St. Paul. I could better use those forty-five minutes working instead of cursing at morning rush-hour traffic.
The main entrance to Lund Industries was busy from five in the morning until seven at night. So walking into a tomblike office building a
t eight thirty in the morning set me on edge. Why did this new building feel abandoned?
The only good thing about my claustrophobia? I got cardio in every day, as I always took the stairs—even if I had to climb thirty flights. Luckily this jaunt was only to the tenth floor.
Peter’s secretary took me to a small conference room. Breakfast pastries were arranged on a beautiful Limoges plate. The secretary also served as barista as she made me a cup of French press coffee and poured the brew into a coffee cup that matched the plate.
Fancy. One didn’t pull out the royal table service unless one was trying to impress someone.
Immediately my mother came to mind.
Don’t be paranoid. Maybe he set up this super-fancy breakfast as a test to see if I had the social graces required to sit at the same table as R Haversman. Peter wouldn’t assume I had the same flawless manners as my mother; he’d prefer to make that determination himself.
So I became conscious of the way I moved, my posture, even the act of sipping my coffee. I limited myself to one small cinnamon and raisin bun that wouldn’t flake or crumble or leave an icing trail across my lips, when I’d really craved a chocolate croissant.
Finally Peter appeared. A woman followed on his heels—her body so overly muscular she sort of trot-waddled.
I stood to greet them.
Peter crossed over to me and kissed my cheeks. “Annika. You look lovely this morning. Thank you for coming.” He turned toward the woman. “This is my associate, Sally.”
I murmured, “Pleased to meet you,” and tried not to gawp at her.
We took our seats, the secretary came in and refilled refreshments and I fought the urge to snap that they should just get on with whatever this was because I did not have all day.
Peter gave me an apologetic smile. “Sorry. We’re just trying to plug in some last-minute data so we can present the most accurate findings.”
“I would appreciate your thoroughness if I had any idea why you asked for this meeting.”
“Of course. First of all, I owe you an apology. I know you’ve got years’ worth of PR experience, so when you told me that revamping Axl Hammerquist’s reputation was a waste of time, I should’ve listened to you . . . given this last incident.”
The girlfriend in me wanted to jump to Axl’s defense and explain that it had been a misunderstanding—and a funny one at that. The PR side of me balked. Had I really said that about Axl—as a potential client?
“Unfortunately Axl has gone off the grid, so to speak. He hasn’t been to his apartment that we know of. The team practices are on full media blackout. They’re insisting it’s solely so their players can concentrate on hockey.”
Wasn’t that the end goal? For Axl to be a solid part of the team and keep the focus in the press on hockey?
“Needless to say, Axl isn’t returning my calls.” Peter paused and I braced myself for his question. “Has he called you in the past few days?”
I shook my head because that wasn’t a lie. There’d been no need for him to call since he’d been in my apartment—and my bed. Now, if Peter had asked if Axl had been in contact . . . well . . . we’d had lots of skin-to-skin contact. Same answer if he’d asked if Axl had been in touch . . . because boy howdy, had there been a lot of touching.
“No, I don’t suppose he has called you after the pictures of him and the brunette were splashed across the media.” Peter sighed. “His disappearing act when he isn’t on the ice creates a dilemma for us.”
“How so?”
“He needs to make a statement. Those types of things are sent from this office, but I prefer to have the approval and permission of my client beforehand. This time . . .”
“For once a delay has actually benefited us,” Sally inserted. “We’ve been able to choose the best course of action, given we had more data to work with.”
“What data?”
“Media approval ratings, fan ratings, sponsor blowback. The biggest one is Axl’s stats. His level of play, his ice time, his plus and minus ranges.”
I blinked at her. I dealt with statistics, pushes and ratings and click-through percentages every day, but nothing Sally had said made sense. “You’re saying his media approval rating . . . ?”
“Can be as important as his game stats. His game stats are substantially better than last year. Since the incident Friday night, his media impact . . .” Sally glanced at Peter.
My stomach churned. “What?”
“His media impact has gone way up, Annika,” Peter said softly.
And my stomach completely bottomed out. “It has?”
“I’m sure this is no reflection on you,” Sally said.
But I felt a little ripple of smugness from her.
I’d made the mistake of reading a few online articles and the comments about me were so ugly.
His girlfriend was probably a cold bitch and she deserved to get cheated on.
Beautiful women never have to work to get a man; they don’t have to try to keep a man either.
If a woman who looks like her, with that kind of money, can’t keep a guy from fooling around on her, what hope do the rest of us have?
“Good for Ax-hell that his approval rating has gone up after a cheating scandal.”
Peter shook his head. “Not his approval rating. His media impact. Because of the scandal, more people know his name, which leads to more visibility for him. I mean, it’s exactly what we wanted. Since Axl has a game tonight, we want him to focus on that. So we’ll release the press announcement tomorrow morning.”
I didn’t move. There was no discussion of PR possibilities. They’d made the final call. I knew what was coming next.
“The press release will say that Axl Hammerquist is confirming that earlier in the week, Annika Lund ended their relationship.”
Absurdity and hysterical laughter warred inside me.
“I assumed you wouldn’t mind the agency speaking on your behalf, Annika. Now you’re free to move on.”
Oh the irony.
Oh the great big ball of irony that had lodged itself in my throat, weighted down my stomach and turned my feet into lead so there was no way I could escape fast enough.
“I will say, you two were very convincing,” Sally said.
That jarred me. “Excuse me?”
“I said you two were very—”
“I heard what you said,” I snapped. “I just don’t remember being consulted about anyone outside the originally agreed-upon parties being given this highly sensitive information.” I whirled on Peter. “This is unacceptable.”
“Annika,” he said calmly. “Sally works for me.”
“I don’t care. I don’t know her, which means I don’t have any reason to trust her.”
“I trust her,” he said softly.
“And you also trusted the Sarduccis and they turned out to be douchebags.”
Silence.
I stood and gathered my things. Then I stepped in close to Sally and lowered my voice so she would have to lean in to hear me. “If I hear one fucking word from anyone, ever, about this thing between Axl and me initially only being a PR stunt, I will know it came from you. And you can bet your ass at that point, I will come for you.”
I stopped in front of Peter. “You breathe one word of this conversation to my mother? And I’ll come for you too.”
Peter caught me outside his main office door. “I know you’re upset. I don’t blame you. But the change in your situation with Axl doesn’t negate the deal I made with you regarding Haversman.” He handed me an envelope. “This will explain it in more detail. Call me when you’ve had time to process it all.”
As soon as he was out of sight, I slipped into the stairwell. I removed my shoes and took the stairs at a run.
The exit from the building was located next to the delivery ramp.
When I turned the corner, my driver was standing off to the side, smoking a cigarette. He immediately put it out and reached the rear car door at the same time as
me. “Lund Industries our next stop, Miss Lund?”