“Alisha’s aura is the color of spoiled yogurt,” Riley adds.
The rest of the team who witnessed the chaos with Alisha earlier are murmuring, agreeing, and dissing my crazy ex.
Finally, Paige uncrosses her arms and lets out a long, slow breath. “You absolute fucking idiot,” she says, but there’s no heat in her words. “You have the emotional intelligence of a broody brick. Why didn’t you tell us? You let her paint you as a monster in front of everyone.”
“Because it didn’t matter.” The truth of it hits me in the gut. “In the court of public opinion, ‘she didn’t read the contract’ sounds like an excuse. I wasn’texperienced, but I carried the responsibility. I should have walked away the second I questioned the paperwork. That’s on me.”
“So, you’re not a violent predator,” Paige concludes. “You’re just a rule-obsessed domme who got ghosted by a shitty sub. That’s significantly less dramatic, but honestly, it’s more on brand for you.” She picks up her water bottle and chugs the rest of it.
“I bet Violet takes the cake as a submissive,” Rissa says, leaning into Paige.
My face falls flat, unable to talk about what happened between us because of her whole situation. I know she put her trust in me when she explained everything that happened between her and that awful company. I can’t tell the girls about any of it.
Paige notices my face. “Listen, I’m sure she’ll get better. It’s not like there’s aLesbian for Dummieson the shelves of the local Barnes & Noble.”
I laugh despite myself. “Nah, she’s actually pretty great.” And tomorrow morning, I’m going to show her just howgreat she really is.
Rissa and Riley high-five. Paige smiles at me.
“You got us to the Olympics,” Paige announces. “You can do anything. I’m glad you got all that sorted out, Cappy.”
I narrow my eyes at her, but she simply gives me her biggest, award-winning grin in return.
“Now that that’ssettled,” Liv, one of our defenders, cuts in. “Can we please talk about how we’re actually going to win this next game?” Her eyes fixate on me. “And Skye? Next time you decide to ethically explore someone’s kinks, maybe stick to people who don’t understand the sports media.”
For the first time since the accusations, I feel the team slot back into place around me. We have a game to win. Nothing will be left festering on the ice.
Paige leans against the wall opposite Violet’s door. Her arms are crossed, and one eyebrow is lifted so high it almost touches her scalp.
“This is pathetic,” she says, not for the first time since we’ve started walking here. “You’re giving her the middle school silent treatment, but you didn’t even make it twenty-four hours. You’re like a broody, leather-wearing helicopter parent.”
I ignore her and knock on the door. The sound is loud in the quiet hallway.
No answer.
I knock again, firmer this time.
Still no answer. Nothing but the faint hum of a vacuum cleaner several doors down.
An irrational threat of panic, not worry, tightens in my chest. Something dark and possessive.
Where is she?
Paige pushes off the wall, her smirk fading into something more serious as she reads my face. “Okay, relax, Captain Control. She’s a grown woman who is probably at the hotel bar drinking a Shirley Temple.”
I pull out my phone and open our text thread, hovering my thumb over the screen. The distance is a punishment for us both, but after she told me about this company, I can’t help but think that something is wrong.
I type a short, direct text.
Skye:Where are you?
The three dots appear almost instantly. She was waiting and watching her phone.
Violet:SKYE!
Violet:Nope, not focusing on that.
Violet:I’m out on the town with Cassie. We’re at a little jazz club in Navigli. It’s all brick and mood lighting.
