Page 69

ThePRmeetingkeepsreplaying in my head like a broken record. Three hours later, and I’m still dissecting every word, every glance, every shift in Liam’s expression when the cameras weren’t rolling.

Something shifted today. The cocky hockey player routine? Gone. In its place was a man who didn’t just show up—he took the wheel. Controlled the room like he owned the oxygen in it. Like he finally realized how much power he had if he’d just stop pretending he didn’t give a damn.

I pour my favorite cabernet syrah blend into a chipped stemless glass that’s survived three moves and one regrettable situationship.

It’s barely five, but I’m over it. I didn’t eat lunch. Didn’t return calls. Haven’t been able to focus on anything because my brain is still short-circuiting at the way Liam looked at me when I backed his dinner idea in front of Riley and the team.

Like I’d handed him more than agreement. Like I’d given him something that mattered.

God help me, it did.

My phone starts buzzing on the counter.

Griffin. Of course.

I stare at his name flashing across the screen. I could let it ring. Pretend I’m elbow-deep in meal plans or supplement research. But Griffin doesn’t take hints. He’ll keep calling until I pick up or until my phone dies from exhaustion.

I swipe to answer.

“Hey, Griff.”

“Katarina.” His voice carries that edge I’ve learned to dread. “Starting to think you were avoiding me.”

“Just busy. You know how it is.” I sink deeper into my couch cushions, wine in hand, preparing for battle.

“Right. About that busy schedule.” His voice gets that edge that means he’s about to say something I don’t want to hear. “Word is Steele’s been sniffing around your office like a dog in heat.”

My stomach drops to my toes. If Griffin only knew I’m not the innocent little sister he thinks I am. I’m sitting here lying through my teeth while remembering exactly how it felt when Liam pressed against me. My hand drifts to my neck automatically—muscle memory I wish I could forget.

“I’m the team nutritionist, Griffin. I meet with everyone multiple times a week. It’s literally my job.”

“Don’t give me that corporate bullshit. This is different and you know it.”

I take a long sip of wine, buying time. “Different how?”

“Different like you’re forgetting who you’re dealing with. Liam Steele isn’t some harmless guy asking for meal prep advice. He’s a hothead with a reputation longer than his stick.”

There it is. The same lecture I’ve been dodging for weeks.

“I can handle myself.”

“Can you?” His voice gets sharper. “Because from where I sit, you’re about to get played by a guy who collects women like hockey cards.”

The wine suddenly doesn’t taste as good.

“I’m not getting sucked into anything. We keep it professional.”

“Professional?” Griffin growls. “Sure. Look, I know you think I’m being a pain in the ass, but I’ve watched this guy I know how heoperates. He chews up woman like you, and spits them out for sport.”

“Wow….a woman like me. Thanks for the ringing endorsement of my intelligence.”

“Your intelligence isn’t the problem, Kat. It’s your heart. You see a stray dog and think you can turn it into a house pet.”

“Liam’s not a stray.”

“Isn’t he?” Griffin’s voice gets harder. “Kid bounced around foster homes until he was fourteen. No family, no stability, nothing. If Coach Dawson hadn’t pulled him off the streets and into junior hockey, he’d probably be dead or in prison by now. And you know what…some people can’t be saved, no matter how hard you try. He’s wired wrong, Kat. Always has been.”

I feel something twist in my chest. “That’s a pretty fucked up way to talk about someone’s childhood Griff.”