Jennifer's smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. She reaches for her tablet with the kind of careful precision that usually means I'm about to get lectured.
“We need to talk about your extracurricular activities.”
She swipes the screen and shows me a compilation that makes me proud and horrified in equal measure. There's my two AM Instagram Live cooking show, already at five million views.
A photo of me with the charity auction winners, all of us sporting matching tattoos, including mine that just says “NOVA” in Comic Sans font because I thought it was hilarious at the time.
“Look, I know the tattoo font was a questionable choice?—”
“Nova,” Jennifer interrupts. “Now that we're in the playoffs, management thinks it's time you cleaned up your image. The stakes are higher. The media attention is more intense.”
I scoff. “My image is fine. Fans love me. I sell jerseys. I score goals. What more do they want?”
“They want you to stop making headlines for the wrong reasons.” She sets down the tablet. “We've assigned someone to work with you personally on image management.”
“Absolutely not.” I stand up, pacing to the window. “No one tells Liam Novak how to live his life.”
“It's not a request.”
“Then it's a stupid decision. I've gotten us this far being exactly who I am.”
“And who you are is talented enough to take us to the Stanley Cup,” Jennifer says calmly. “But only if you don't derail everything with another scandal.”
I want to argue, but she's got that look. The look that says this conversation is over, and I can either cooperate or find myself traded to some frozen wasteland in Canada.
“Fine,” I mutter. “But I'm not changing who I am for anyone.”
“The specialist is waiting in the conference room. She's an expert in her field.” Jennifer stands, smoothing her skirt. “Come on, I'll introduce you.”
I follow her down the hallway, already planning how I'm going to make this image consultant's life hell. No uptight PR drone is going to tame the Nova. I'm thinking corporate speak bingo, maybe showing up to meetings in my most outrageous outfits, definitely not taking a single piece of advice seriously.
Jennifer opens the conference room door. “I'd like you to meet Liam Novak.”
My brain short-circuits.
Standing beside the conference table, looking like every professional fantasy I've ever had, is her. The woman from that night three months ago. The night that's been replaying in my mind ever since, the night that ruined me for everyone else.
Her blonde hair is cut in a sleek, sophisticated style that frames her face perfectly. She's wearing a charcoal gray skirt suit that somehow manages to be both completely professional and absolutely sexy.
The skirt hits just above her knees, revealing legs I remember wrapped around my waist. The blazer is tailored to show her curves without being obvious about it.
But it's her eyes that nearly bring me to my knees. Those same storm-gray eyes that looked up at me with such heat, such wildness, such perfect understanding of exactly what I needed.
My body responds instantly, memories flooding back. Her hands in my hair, her nails dragging down my back, the way shemoved beneath me like she was made for me. The way she urged me to keep going.To fuck her hard.
She closes the distance between us, her expression perfectly composed. Showing absolutely no sign that she recognizes me.
“Congratulations on your win, Liam,” she says, her voice crisp. Nothing like the breathy, desperate sounds she made that night. “I'm Avery Carter. It's a pleasure to meet you.”
A pleasure to meet me? Like we're strangers. Like she didn't rock my entire world and then disappear before I woke up, leaving nothing but her scent on my sheets and a fake name I couldn't stop thinking about.
I stare at her, waiting for her composure to crack, for some flicker of recognition. But Avery Carter, because apparently that's her real name, doesn't even blink.
Two can play this game.
“The pleasure's all mine,” I say, putting on my most charming smile. The one that's gotten me out of trouble and into beds from coast to coast. “I have a feeling this is going to be a very interesting partnership.”
Something flickers in her eyes then. Just for a second. Like maybe the ice queen facade isn't as solid as she wants me to believe.
