“I imagine it’s strange being back,” Molly prompted. She didn’t carry much of a scent mark at all. Neutral beta. Though she was cute. “Especially with your new position across the ice. Any tension with your former teammates?”
Beckett’s gaze flicked to me.Lingered.
“Let’s just say… the temperature’s different,” he said. “But some things are worth the heat.”
The reporter blinked. “Could you clarify?—”
“I’m sure hecould,” I cut in smoothly, stepping forward with my best ‘wrangle the chaos’ smile. “But I’ll be reviewing all quotes before they go to print, per Marchand’s media policy.”
Beckett tilted his head, amused. “Still cleaning up after us, huh?”
“Someone has to be the adult in the room,” I said sweetly.
Before he could reply, a new voice joined the room—smooth, expensive, and laced with calculated authority.
“Wren. Beckett. Excellent,” said Adrien Marchand, owner of the Snowvale Howlers and professional puppet master. “Just the two I was hoping to find.”
He glided into the lounge like a man who’d never once been denied anything. His coat was cashmere. His shoes were suede. His smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“We’re due in the owner’s box for lunch,” he continued. “Come.”
I opened my mouth to politely decline, already bracing for my out: work, scheduling, blood pressure, but Marchand lifted one manicured hand, already anticipating me.
“I need you there, Wren. Beckett’s return needs framing. Context. You’re the best at shaping narrative into digestible bites.”
Hisreturn.
“He’s coming back to the team?”
“Maybe,” Beckett said, his breath teasing my ear as he leaned a little too close to me.
“That’s why you and I are going to have lunch with him. You’re going to help me persuade him.” There it was. The compliment as a command. The leash in a velvet glove.
I forced a breath through my nose. “Of course.”
“Excellent.” He turned, already walking. “Let’s not keep the chef waiting.”
Beckett smirked at me as we followed. “You always were the one holding the leash around here.”
I shot him a look. “Keep testing me and I’ll tighten it.”Until it strangles you.I didn’t add that last part out loud though.
His grin widened. “You promise?”
I didn’t answer.
Mostly because I wasn’t sure if my next words would be professional or a snarl.
I still had a couple of days to go before I was officially a problem.
Chapter
Three
RHETT
Ishould’ve been feeling good.
Practice was clean. Interviews were smoother than usual. I hadn’t punched anyone.
