Page 16 of Break the Ice

“It doesn’t fucking matter!” comes Mr. Hawk’s voice from deeper inside the suite. “You’ll do whatever the hell I say! We’re not letting him go. Is that clear, Danny Boy?”

“You can’t control things forever, Hawk. Sooner or later, something’s got to give. Somebody’s going to pull that rug out from under you.”

“Is that a threat? Huh? You threatening me, Danny Boy?”

“Of… of course not. I… I just meant…”

Mr. Hawk hushes him. The two men fall silent as if listening for something.

Listening for me. They’ve realized they’re not alone.

I figure there’s no use pretending like I’m not here. I step farther into the suite, emerging from the short hallway that connects the entrance with the living room space.

Their reactions are like night and day. Daniel Beringer lets out a deep sigh of relief while a red-faced Mr. Hawk turns away from me to fix himself a fresh drink.

“I’ll see myself out,” Mr. Beringer says. He flits past me as a blur.

The door echoes slamming shut, leaving the two of us alone. I go straight into PR mode.

“You wanted to discuss more about the team’s overhaul,” I say. “I have a character arc for every member on the team. I call them character arcs because that’s how it plays out in the eyes of the public. If we stick to the stories we spin, we’ll see the tides turn. The public perception will completely?—”

“That’s well and good, darling. But I didn’t invite you for some damn character arcs. You owe me that nightcap, remember? Here.”

He’s turned away from the minibar clutching two drinks filled with pale, brown liquid. He walks one over to me and sips from the other.

“Have a seat. Get comfortable.”

My stubbornness needles away at me. It demands I tell him to fuck off and storm out. But my ambition blares louder, screaming at me to stay. Just for a little while. Long enough to have the drink and invent an excuse to go.

This could be my chance to solidify my position with the Wolves. Another stepping stone to a successful career in this world.

I can’t let David win…

I choose the seat farthest from his and take a small sip of the drink. My face pulls an expression of disgust at the strong taste. Alcohol has never been my thing, but this whiskey tastes even worse than usual.

“What did you want to talk about?” I choke out.

“Anything and everything. Tell me more about yourself. What made a beautiful young woman like you interested in sports?”

I arch an eyebrow at him. “I… was an athlete. A speed skater. I mentioned it during my interview. It’s featured extensively on my resume.”

“Right,” he mumbles, an indifference about his tone. “A lot of the young women we get cross over from other industries. Hollywood and politics. That kinda thing.”

“I’ve always loved sports.”

He smirks. “A lot of men find that sexy in a woman.”

Lost on how to respond, I take another sip of my drink to give myself something to do. Something I instantly regret when the strong taste hits me. It becomes a theme as Mr. Hawk makes awkward, borderline inappropriate conversation. More than once he casually mentions lurking on my socials, commenting on a vacation photo I’d posted in a bikini at the pool. He confesses he’s surprised I’m single…

Ten or so minutes go by like this, where he pokes around for personal info and makes off-color remarks. I’m finally able to steer him toward the topic that’s relevant to work—the players and their public image overhauls. He listens on with mild interest as I go into detail.

“You know, Marisse, I might’ve not been upfront with why I hired you.” He sets his glass of whiskey down. “You might not know this, but I’ve got a lot of friends in a lot of places. Just about every sport there is. That includes the sport known as speed skating.”

I mirror his action and put down my own drink. The whiskey’s way too strong and I can’t stomach any more. It’s left me borderline nauseous and my tongue thirsting for a drop of water.

“There’s always overlap in the sports world,” I say. “That doesn’t surprise me. But I’m not involved with the sport anymore.”

“But it’s fair to say you made your mark. David Abernathy always had good things to say about you. He bragged about you… and your talent often.”