Page 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sophia

A week later, I'm popping another chocolate into my mouth, letting the rich salted caramel filling coat my tongue as I recline in my office chair.

My office chair.

Across from me, Mia and Natalie stare, arms crossed, their judgment so thick I can practically taste it through the sea salt inside the truffle I’m currently demolishing.

“So,” Mia drawls, reaching across my desk to snatch another chocolate from the half-devoured box. “Let me get this straight. They begged?”

I smirk, sipping my coffee. “No. They grovelled . It sounds better that way.”

Natalie kicks her feet up on the edge of my desk, shaking her head like this is the most delicious piece of gossip she’s ever received.

“Unbelievable. Big Mike and Greg? The same men who tried to turn you into the NHL’s answer to Barbie and Ken?”

“The very same.”

Mia whistles, exchanging glances with Natalie. “And they came crawling back?”

I hold my fingers an inch apart. “On their knees.”

Of course, that's not exactly how it went down.

The headlines shifted from " Ice Queen Seduces Captain " to " NHL's Power Couple Stands United. " Sports commentators who'd questioned my credentials suddenly praised my "innovative approach to sports marketing."

Even my former colleague who'd trashed me on ESPN backpedaled so fast he probably got whiplash.

Amazing what happens when the most respected captain in hockey tells the world to back off.

The paparazzi still lurk, but they keep their distance now. No more ambushes outside Summit Café or sneaky shots through restaurant windows. They photograph us from across the street, capturing moments we choose to share rather than stealing private ones.

I let the board stew for three whole days after Blake's press conference at Ridgeview Tavern. Their calls went straight to voicemail while I lounged in Blake's bed, watching the media narrative transform in real-time.

Blake found the whole thing hilarious.

Whether it was watching me ignore Greg’s desperate voicemails, or the fact that he got me all to himself for three whole days, I still haven’t figured out.

Probably both.

Especially considering the way he kept me occupied.

My body is still sore in places I didn’t know could be sore. If I never have to brace myself against his kitchen counter again while he dragged his tongue over every inch of me like he was conducting a very thorough taste test, it’ll be too soon.

Scratch that.

I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

But what he doesn’t know?

I accepted the job again.

I never told him.

Not because I was keeping it a secret, but because after that press conference, after watching him go to war for me, I needed to do this on my own. To prove to myself that I wasn’t just Blake Maddox’s girlfriend cashing in on his name.

Natalie sighs dramatically across from me. “Babe, I'm glad you made them sweat. Really dragged it out. Made them suffer .”

“Oh, I did,” I say, leaning back with a smug little stretch.

When I finally answered Big Mike's call, his voice cracked with relief.

" Name your terms, " he'd said.

So I did. Full creative control. Double my original salary. And most importantly - the youth program stays private, protected, sacred. No cameras, no publicity stunts, no exploitation of kids' stories for clicks.

Greg signed it all of without another thought. Even said the Icehawks Youth Hockey team will train and play all their games inside Icehawk HQ from now on. Full security, privacy and state of the art facilities for Blake's kids.

And the man that made it all possible?

We couldn't be happier.

Which reminds me…

I glance at the clock mounted on my office wall and nearly choke on my chocolate.

"Shit! We need to go - the game starts in twenty minutes!"

Mia and Natalie scramble up as I grab my blazer and green and gray scarf, the three of us rushing through the corridors of Icehawk Stadium.

The pre-game energy pulses through the building, setting my skin tingling. It's the most important game of the season, there's no way I'm missing this.

The smell hits me first - that unmistakable mix of popcorn, hot dogs, and ice that means game night. Eighteen thousand fans file into their seats above us, their footsteps thundering through the ceiling.

"Wait!" I grab Natalie's arm before we reach the corporate box stairs. "I haven't told Blake I accepted the job yet."

Natalie groans. "Babe, you can't just-"

But I'm already running back, heading straight down the stairs towards the locker room. I reach the bottom of the stairs and a long corridor stretches ahead, lined with photos of Icehawks legends.

My legs pound against the floor as we approach the door marked with the team logo.

I burst into the locker room and dozens of heads snap up at once.

Blake's eyes lock onto mine from across the room. "Sophia? What the hell are you doing here?"

Coach Brody lets out a long-suffering sigh, massaging his temples in front of the whiteboard at the front of the room. "For fuck's sake… You've got five minutes, Hart. Make it quick, we've got a game to win."

Smiling nervously, I weave through a maze of half-dressed hockey players, dodging flying tape rolls and equipment. My hand finds Blake's wrist and I tug him toward a quieter corner, trying not to stare at his incredibly firm bare chest.

"I got my job back," I blurt out, the words tumbling over each other.

His expression softens. "Yeah? With everything you wanted?"

I nod, grinning. "Full creative control. Better salary. No bullshit social media stuff."

"Good." His jaw tightens and he grabs my hands, squeezing them hard. "As long as this is what you want. I'll support you no matter what, you know that."

"I know. I'm willing to give it another go… I kind of like it here."

Blake's lips quirk into that smirk that used to be so infuriating, yet now…

Nah.

It's still annoying as hell.

"This doesn't mean you're gonna go changing shit again, does it? This is still my team."

"Oh really?" I arch an eyebrow, trailing my finger down his bare chest. "That's funny, because I distinctly remember someone begging me not to leave the other night. Multiple times, actually."

His eyes darken. "That's playing dirty, Hart."

"I learned from the best, Captain." I pat his cheek. "Now go win me a game. Unless you're worried about being... distracted?"

Something shifts in his eyes. Like he's just remembered he left the oven on or something. His fingers dig into my waist, holding on a beat too long.

"Wait, so you'll be in the corporate box tonight? Not the seat I got you and the girls in Section 114?"

"Uh, yeah, we're heading up to the box now. Better cocktails up there," I wink.

He nods, but doesn't smile. All of a sudden, his whole body has gone all tense and his eyes are darting from side to side like he's piecing together a play on the ice.

"Hart! Time's up!" Coach Brody bellows. "Get the hell out!"

I stumble backward, my heel catching on a equipment bag. I windmill my arms, trying to catch my balance before I face plant in the middle of the locker room.

I grab the first thing I can reach - which turns out to be a jockstrap dangling from a nearby hook.

Oh. My. God.

My fingers seize around the elastic like my survival depends on it. The second I realize what I’m holding, I shriek and throw it across the room like it’s a live grenade.

"Good luck, boys!" I blurt out, my voice an octave higher than usual.

Logan's laugh echoes across the room. "We don’t need luck, Ms. Hart. But uh… can I have that back? I've been looking for it. It’s game-worn."

GAME-WORN?!

A horrified noise bubbles up my throat. I stare at my hand like it might need immediate sanitization. Either that, or I'm cutting the fucking thing off.

When I finally get to the door, Connor's howling with laughter and Ryder's doubled over against his locker. The last thing I see before the door slams is Coach Brody pinching the bridge of his nose, muttering a prayer.

After a quick race up the countless flights of stairs, I settle into my plush corporate box seat between Natalie and Mia, trying to focus on the incredible spread of sushi, champagne, and chocolate-covered strawberries laid out before us.

But my mind keeps drifting back to Blake's weird reaction about where I'm sitting.

Why does it matter so much where I'm sitting? He'll kick ass no matter which angle I'm watching from.

The stadium vibrates with raw, last-game-of-the-regular-season energy. Every single fan is pounding their feet and screaming as the pre-game lights dim. Green lasers dance across the ice while Ridge the Hawk soars overhead, trailing the team flag.

"Holy shit," Mia whispers as the Icehawks burst onto the ice.

Blake leads them out, captain's 'C' gleaming on his chest. Even from up here, he looks sexy as hell.

We all cheer and whoop and soon, the puck drops.

Blake transforms into a force of nature. He sends New York's center flying into the boards with a bone-crushing check. Minutes later, he threads an impossible pass to Ryder for the first goal.

It's taken them no time at all.

"What's gotten into him?" Natalie asks, wide-eyed. "I've never seen him play like this."

I shake my head, still puzzled by his earlier intensity. Why was he so fixated on Section 114?

Blake continues his rampage through the second period. Another assist. A short-handed goal that brings the crowd to their feet. He's everywhere at once, leaving destruction in his wake.

By the third period, New York looks shell-shocked. The score climbs to 4-0 as Blake sets up Logan for a one-timer that nearly tears through the net, and the party has already started.

Eli leaps onto his chair, fist-pumping in the air. His tie has come completely undone, and there's definitely some whiskey sloshed down his dress shirt.

"We're going to the playoffs, baby!" He grabs Big Mike in a bear hug that nearly topples them both. "My boys are going all the way!"

"Eli, get down before you break something!" Natalie tries to sound stern, but she's laughing too hard.

I catch Blake's eye down on the ice. He winks, and my heart swells. God, I love this crazy hockey family.

The final seconds tick down and the arena explodes. Green and white confetti rains from the ceiling as the playoff spot is secured. Mia grabs my arm, jumping and screaming while Natalie hugs us both.

I press my hand against the glass, watching Blake raise his stick to the roaring crowd. Pride and relief flood through me. He actually did it. The Iron Ridge Icehawks are playoff-bound.

The team piles onto Blake in a massive group hug, their helmets knocking together as they jump and cheer. Connor leaps onto Blake's back while Ryder and Logan sandwich him from both sides.

The whole stadium feels like it might explode from the sheer volume of celebration.

" MAD DOG! MAD DOG !"

The chant ripples through eighteen thousand voices. Blake's gonna hate that.

Green and white streamers rain down, catching in players' skates as they circle the ice. You'd think we'd just won the Stanley Cup instead of clinching a playoff spot.

But then Blake breaks free from the pile, skidding to a sudden halt. His head snaps up, eyes locking onto me through the glass. Something in his expression shifts, transforms into pure determination. Like he's about to do something monumental.

My heart stutters as he points to me and curls his hand, gesturing for me to come down to the ice.

I blink. Wait. What?

"Go!" Natalie shoves me toward the stairs while Mia practically pushes me out of my seat.

"Your man wants you!" They propel me forward with surprising strength.

I stumble down the stairs, my mind whirling, only to crash straight into Eli. He grips my shoulders, whiskey fumes rolling off him.

"You ready for forever, kid?"

My breath catches. "What?"

He just smirks, eyes twinkling. "I knew that boy would make me proud one day. Now go."

I stumble forward, my mind racing. What the hell is Blake doing?

The moment my heel touches the ice, the crowd's volume doubles. Blake skates toward me, his expression dead serious. There's a microphone in his hand.

What is he doing? We were supposed to be stopping all this media attention. This is definitely going viral.

But do I even care?

Yes. Because I love him. I love him so damn much it hurts.

And I don't want to go back to that horrible place we just escaped from.

I've got my job. I've got my man.

I don't want-

Blake reaches for my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine as he clears his throat.

My pulse hammers so hard I can barely breathe. The entire stadium is watching, cameras flashing, thousands of voices roaring.

My heart is pounding against my ribs, my head spinning.

And then Blake lifts the mic.

"Sophia Hart, you ruined my life in the best damn way possible…"