I look back down immediately, jaw tightening, pulse kicking hard against my ribs.
I do not turn around. I do not smile.
I finish my drink, set it down, and start recalculating my exit.
“Look at you acting professional today when the camera was?—”
“Nyet.” I stand.
“Nyet?” She laughs.
“I come here to relax, and you irritate the hell out of me.”
“Oh my God, Aleks.” Nalani’s jaw drops, and Koa stands at her back.
Fuck.
“You don’t irritate me. But I am leaving.” I tell Nalani as I grab my jacket and look at Sofie who is standing in my way, arms crossed, blue eyes dancing with amusement. I want to pick her up and move her out of my damn way, and I would if there weren’t eyes on me. “Excuse me.” The only part of her that moves is her eyebrow. “That arch is as high as the horse you ride around on.”
Dash barks out a laugh, “Killer, man, what the hell?”
“As I said earlier, I am tired,” I sneer at them and look at her. “Move.”
She smirks, “I was going to offer to buy you?—”
“You couldn’t afford me, now move.” I hiss and can all but feel the surrounding disapproval. “Please.”
Chapter 8
Meetings
Sofie
Morning comes clean and pale,not bright today, the gray sky dulling its shine.
The penthouse sits high above the Fairfax Media building, high enough that it feels quiet, unless helicopters pass by. Twenty-seven floors. It’s not Midtown massive; Fairfax Media is not trying to compete with glass towers that command attention, but it is taller than most of the financial district blocks it overlooks. From up here, New York looks organized, which comforts me, but I know better.
I roll to my side into the cloud of white sheets and duvet that covers my weighted blanket, which helps me sleep, and reach for my phone to flip off the alarm before it goes off. There’s no reason to set it; my internal clock always has me up earlier than I want to be.
It’s Saturday, which means nothing. All the days blur together and have for the past two years since the incident with Dad.
I shake the thought away, no sense in living in the past, and hit IG to check on the latest post with Deacon and Claudia at Icehouse, it’s doing well. Lots of love for them. The proposal is doing great, but it’s Aleks’ video with our sweet Savannah that is still growing.
Aleks Kilovac, who stood up and turned oxygen into tension. I redirected. Smiled. Deflected. Kept the narrative where it belonged.
Not on him.
I roll out of bed and cross the heated concrete floor to the windows and look down at the city below me. Delivery trucks double-parked like declarations. Parents hustling kids into coats. And of course, runners pretending this is relaxing.
I do not think about Aleks.
I have four days before the Bears head out on the road. Four days to capture the things that matter, because hockey doesn’t need help. What people want is the in-between. Savannah’s first real holiday season. Claudia trying to be everywhere at once and still show up fully. Deacon pretending he’s not sentimental while being aggressively sentimental.
Claudia isn’t here for leisure. She’s a working mom, running a life, juggling schedules, deadlines, and a baby who does not care about optics. Which means this must be thoughtful. Efficient. Human.
I head back to my bed and grab my phone, open a text thread with Deacon and Claudia, and send a text.
Me:
