It was funny.
It was embarrassing.
It was absolutely mortifying.
But also… kind of adorable and she couldn’t feel it through the costume.
And Marcus Shaw?
He was awfully gorgeous and nice…andsupposed to be focusing on the game. The camera hovered on them for a moment before moving away, focusing on the game happening on the ice, as the coach turned to her from his location nearby.
“Harper! Go work the crowd and get outta here. Go anywhere but near the ice – please! Shaw! Get up here, kid. You’re up.”
Nodding, she stood. Marcus Shaw sprang up without hesitation, clearly relieved for the distraction, and started toward the ice - only for Acton to skate over to the boards and stop him short.
“I’ve got a little left in the tank,” Acton said plainly. “I’m good for a few more minutes, Coach.”
Coach Starnes exhaled sharply. “Shaw—sit back down.”
As the players leaned in together, voices hushed and serious, a pang of guilt settled in Harper’s chest. Shaw had wanted on the ice, wanted to play. She could tell. And now, because of her?—
She wished she’d never set foot near the boards.
“Harper—get outta here!Shoo!”
That, at least, she could do.
She immediately took off, hamming it up for everyone surrounding her as she flitted from seat to seat, pretending to run away from the coach. Yeah, maybe she could redeem herself, maybe she could get people to laugh and talk, just anything to keep them from focusing on how she potentially cost them the game by giving the Kodiaks a free point.
I’m never going to live this down.
And tomorrow night?
Tomorrow night, she still had to show up at the charity event.
In the suit.
Again.
Harper groaned quietly inside the helmet as she waved to the crowd—already dreading what was yet to come.
3
MARCUS
“Hey, Shaw—where’s your bride?”
The question hit Marcus like a puck to the ribs.
He did a nervous double-take, spine stiffening as if someone had just called his name in a silent church. His gaze snapped toward the speaker and immediately locked onto the unmistakable presence of Alaric Finnegan—the owner and billionaire. The man whose reputation hovered somewhere between ruthless businessman and rumored former mob enforcer. Finnegan stood with his head inclined toward Coach Starnes and a cluster of men in tailored suits, all of them looking relaxed, powerful, and entirely capable of ruining Marcus’s life with a single raised eyebrow.
Marcus forced a smile onto his face, one that felt more like a grimace as sweat prickled beneath his collar.
“Good question,” someone else chimed in, amused. “How come we never see your wife? You know she’s supposed to come to these events, right?”
The room tilted.
Marcus swallowed hard and tugged at his collar, suddenly convinced the suit was shrinking. The air felt too thin. The roomwas much too hot for this kind of pressure. His pulse roared in his ears as his vision narrowed just enough to make him wonder if he was about to pass out in front of half the league’s donors.
