Dante stalks toward the reps, jabbing a finger hard enough that one of them visibly leans back. “You know what would help? If your people could get your fucking guys under control! Rourke knows better, true, but your shithead player smashed glass into my stands and went after one of my employees in my arena.”
One of the League reps opens his mouth.
Dante steamrolls right over him. “No. Absolutely not. You don’t get to sit there acting like this was some random hockey scuffle. That girl could’ve gotten hurt. My staff could’ve gotten hurt. Fans could’ve gotten hurt.”
Sergio pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s already preparing for the legal bill.
Dante keeps going anyway. “You want to fine somebody? Fine the asshole who turned my rink into a goddamn crime scene.”
“Dante.” Renee finally cuts in. He opens his mouth to say something, prompting her to immediately reach for her phone. Based on a whispered conversation I overheard before the meeting began, she has his wife on speed dial. I must admit, I’m curious about the type of woman who can put the fear of God into Dante Giovanetti.
Honestly, despite the migraine he’s currently causing everyone in this room, I do appreciate him finally going to bat for his people.
Even if he’s doing it like an enraged mob boss with a nicotine addiction.
Dante takes a step back. “Fine. I’ll let the rest of you say your piece.” He lopes around the table and drops into his chair. “Proceed.”
The League rep who spoke earlier taps his pen against his notepad. “As I was saying, Mr. Rourke, we’ve reviewed the footage from last night’s game. Clovis Toutain has already been suspended. This isn’t the first incident he’s instigated during a game that put innocent fans at risk… but neither is it yours.” He steeples his fingers. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes, sir.” Owen’s jaw is set. The obedience in his tone settles painfully in my bones.
“You’ll be suspended for at least two games. If this were an outlier, I’d be inclined to treat it lightly, given the nature of Mr. Toutain’s behavior. However, we have ongoing concerns with regard to your aggressiveness in the crease. Some territorial protectiveness is normal, but you’re taking it to the extreme.”
Owen’s throat bobs. It’s the only sign that he isn’t completely shut down. “Yes, sir. Understood.”
“Yes, sir, understood,” Dante repeats in a whiny little voice that sounds nothing like Owen’s. In his lower register, he adds, “Is that all you have to say? For fuck’s sake, Rourke, act like you give a shit!”
If Dante knew anything about Owen at all, he’d realize caring is the entire problem.
“I care,” Owen says. His eyes flick toward me, and I feel it then: the roiling wall of shame that radiates off of him. It’s almost unbearable to look at. “But I can’t argue. You saw it all happen. You know what I did.”
“Everyoneknows, Rourke.” Dante pivots toward me. “Miss Callahan, you’re his crisis manager. This is a fucking crisis. Do you have a strategy in mind?”
It’s the first time since the “incident” that anyone has asked my opinion. Not that the press didn’t try last night. I got awaythen, but this is my job. The trouble is, I don’t like what I have to do next.
I nod slowly. “I think I do. Or at least, I think I have the start of a plan.”
“Well?” Dante’s mouth pinches. “Let’s hear it. Because I have to tell you, Miss Callahan, that your efforts suggest that you’re not the right person for the job.”
Here we go.“I agree, Mr. Giovanetti.”
The words taste awful coming out of my mouth.
I’m aware of Owen’s reaction in my peripheral vision as his facade of indifference drops. His face goes pale, and he opens his mouth as if to argue, but no sound comes out. I can practically see the moment his heart drops through the floor.
“I’ve been working with Owen for several months now, and without divulging anything that has been revealed to me in confidence, I believe that it would be better for me to pass this assignment off to another member of my firm. When it comes to events and community-facing activities, Owen’s great. He’s especially wonderful with kids. Kind. Patient. Protective in ways most people never bother to notice. He doesn’t need my help on that front. When it comes to the on-ice interactions, though, there isn’t much I can do. I thought we’d made progress, but I think my presence was a significant part of the problem yesterday. If I hadn’t attended the game, I don’t think this incident would have occurred.”
The admission feels like cutting off my own arm.
“Remy,” Owen croaks.
“I have two colleagues in mind who I think would be a good fit, actually. Both of them work at my firm, so I can vouch for them personally.”
“Remy,” Owen says again, slightly louder this time. “He went after you.On purpose.”
The desperation in his voice nearly cracks my resolve on the spot.
This part sucks, but I had all night to think it through, and I know this is the right choice. I turn to face him and fold my hands in my lap, doing everything within my power to keep my facade professional and controlled. Owen’s eyes are red and puffy.
