“You okay, kitten?” Tristan asked softly.
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and let them take care of me, didn’t fight it, didn’t try to do it myself, didn’t insist I was fine.
Cole tipped my chin up. His eyes searched mine, and I knew he saw more than I wanted him to.
“We’ve got you,” he said. “I swear it, sparrow.”
I didn’t mind being theirs, didn’t mind that I’d stopped fighting.
Maybe that should have scared me more than it did.
53
COLE
I took a deep breath,steeling myself before I pushed open the door to my father’s box. Three and a half years at Yorkfield University, and I’d never watched a hockey game from it. I’d never wanted to.
Still didn’t.
But what choice did I have, really?
Inside the suite, my father was already entertaining, a glass of whiskey in his hand as he spoke with business colleagues. I caught the team warming up on the ice out of the corner of my eye and deliberately turned away so I wouldn’t have to watch them doing it without me.
“Father,” I said, walking up to him.
“Cole, my boy!” He had never greeted me so enthusiastically before. “We were just talking about how glad we are to see you picking up the mantle for Carter Industries.”
I plastered on my most charming smile and shook everyone’s hands. “Something I should have done a long time ago,” I said, proud I didn’t grit my teeth through the lie.
“Why didn’t you?” Desmond Okonkwo asked me, his white teeth flashing against deep brown skin. He was a long-standing board member, one of many names and faces I’d been required to memorize as a child.
Because my father wasn’t threatening the people I cared about most in the world.
“Youthful rebellion,” I answered instead. “But I’m graduating this year, and as much as I love hockey, I care about continuing my father’s legacy more. How is your daughter doing? Didn’t she just start as a freshman at MIT?” I asked, changing the subject.
Okonkwo’s proud smile was blinding. That’s all I’d wanted from my own father. No, now was not the time to be maudlin and sentimental. I summoned the ruthless businessman my father wished he had raised—cruel, manipulative, and ready to bribe Senator Reynolds when he arrived.
After too much small talk, we turned to the rink for the anthem. I waited for my father and his guests to take their seats then dropped into an empty one in the back, intending to spend most of the game on my phone instead of watching my team play without me.
Eva’s red hair drew my eye, even from the distance of the box seats. She’d pulled it back into a braid that her curls were already escaping. She wore school colors but not a hockey jersey, assuaging the jealousy I’d prepared myself to feel.
Massi took the puck drop, with Tristan and Rami starting as wingers.
Nadia al-Rashid, the VP of our European operations, slid into the seat beside me. “Is it hard watching?” she asked me sympathetically.
“Of course,” I answered, hoping my voice was less raw than my chest. “But working for my father is the right decision.”
“You’re certainly bright,” she said. “But I’m notconvinced you’re going to be ready to step in as CEO when your father retires.”
I snorted. “My father’s going to work until he can’t work any longer. I think we’ve got plenty of time for me to learn the ropes.”
“How’s that going?” she asked.
“It’s only been a few weeks,” I answered. “Right now, I’m trying to better understand the structure and the finances—who does what and why.”
Her hum was noncommittal.
The game blurred in front of me. Tristan checked an opposing player into the boards. It was aggressive, surprising, and exactly the kind of play I would have made. My chest ached watching him, watching my team. This was supposed to be our season, and instead, I sat in a luxury box watching the game, about to help my father bribe a senator.
