Page 8

Chapter 8

Ryker

T he next morning, I sat in Gideon Strong’s office, arms crossed and a scowl etched on my face. I wasn’t in the mood for whatever lecture was coming my way, especially after the long night I’d had. The tension with Paige hadn’t left me, and now I was facing the man pulling all the strings behind the scenes.

Gideon leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable as he tapped his pen against the desk. “You know why I called you in here, right?”

I grunted. “I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Adams. She’s in charge of handling the PR fallout from the scandal. And you, Kane, are going to do exactly what she tells you to do.”

I bristled, my scowl deepening. “I know how to handle the media. I don’t need?—”

“You’re not handling anything,” he interrupted, his voice sharp. “Paige is. And I don’t care if you think you can handle it better or if you’ve got some personal issue with her. You’re going to follow her lead, and you’re not going to give her a hard time about it.”

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my temper in check. “I’m not giving her a hard time. I just think?—”

“I don’t care what you think,” Gideon snapped. “This is bigger than you, Ryker. This is about the team. You might be the captain on the ice, but off the ice, Paige is the one calling the shots right now. And if I hear you’ve been making her job any harder than it already is, there’s going to be a problem. Understood?”

“Did she tell you?—?”

“Of course not,” Gideon cut me off, his voice steady and cold. “She hasn’t complained about anything since she got here. You’re the reason the team is in this mess.”

My temper flared, heat rising in my chest. The worst part? He was right. I clenched my jaw, biting back the sharp retort on the tip of my tongue.

Gideon leaned forward, eyes locked onto mine. “Your behavior, Ryker, has been out of line. You’ve been taking your frustrations out on Paige, and it’s unacceptable. She’s here to do a job, same as you.”

I struggled to keep my expression neutral. The last thing I needed was to give him more ammunition.

“I assume you heard about her time at Michigan?” I shot back, desperate to regain some ground.

He sneered, shaking his head slightly. “Rifling through her past? That’s low, even for you.”

“How do we know she didn’t protect her boyfriend?—”

“Even if she did,” Gideon interjected sharply, “and I’m not saying she did. But if she protected him, none of the scandal touched that team. If anything, that means she’s better at her job than she’s getting credit for.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “There’s going to be a press conference today, and you’re going to be there and follow her lead.” He leaned back in his chair, the authority in his posture unmistakable. “We’re supposed to be getting ready for the season, not dealing with this. Fix it.”

My teeth ground together as I nodded curtly, every muscle in my body tense with suppressed anger. Gideon had made his point crystal clear; now it was up to me to swallow my pride and fall in line.

Without another word, I stood and walked out of his office; the door closing with a soft click behind me. The hallway seemed longer than usual as I made out of the room, each step echoing the frustration and helplessness swirling inside me.

Paige had become an unexpected thorn in my side—a constant reminder that maybe perfection wasn’t something I could control or achieve on my own terms.

There had to be something there, something I could use against her. Something to get rid of her.

And then what? a voice asked. They bring in someone else? What are you even fighting for at this point?

I banished the thought. I refused to acknowledge that I had no idea what the fuck I was doing anymore.

I stormed out of Gideon’s office, barely acknowledging the greetings of a few staff members as I passed. My mind was too full, my temper too raw. Gideon’s words kept playing over and over in my head—“Paige is the one calling the shots right now.” It wasn’t that I had a problem with someone doing their job, but Paige’s presence, her control over the situation, felt like a personal challenge I wasn’t ready for.

As I moved toward the rink, the sound of my footsteps echoed down the empty hallway. The frustration bubbling inside me needed an outlet. But now that I was being told to follow her orders, it felt like something else entirely. It wasn’t just about the PR fallout anymore—it was about trust. And I wasn’t sure if I trusted Paige.

Derek had filled my head with enough rumors about Paige’s past to keep me suspicious. That assistant coach at Michigan—the whispers about her manipulating stories and spinning narratives to protect her position. Sure, everyone had skeletons in their closet, but it made me wonder: if Paige could bury the truth so easily in the past, what was stopping her from doing the same now?

I stopped near the locker room entrance, staring down the hallway to where Paige’s office was located. Maybe she wasn’t hiding anything. Maybe she was exactly what the team needed right now. But the flicker of doubt gnawed at me.

Paige emerged from her office, clutching a stack of papers. She glanced up and our eyes met. Her expression softened for a moment before hardening into professionalism.

“Mr. Kane,” she greeted, her tone neutral but cautious.

“Adams,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

She approached, eyes scanning my face as if searching for something. “We need to go over a few things before the press conference.”

“Fine,” I grunted.

As we walked side by side toward the conference room, tension crackled between us. My mind raced with questions I couldn’t ask out loud—not yet. Not until I figured out where we stood and what she might be hiding.

Paige broke the silence first. “Look, I know this isn’t easy for you,” she began, glancing sideways at me.

I snorted softly but didn’t respond.

She continued, “But we both want what’s best for this team.”

I nodded curtly, my jaw clenched tight.

We reached the conference room door and paused for a moment before stepping inside together.

I stepped into Paige's office, my eyes scanning the room. The walls were adorned with framed newspaper clippings and photographs, a testament to her career in sports PR. A large wooden desk sat in the center, cluttered with papers, pens, and a laptop. A bookshelf in the corner held an assortment of books on marketing, public relations, and sports management.

Paige shut the door behind me and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear before moving to her desk. She gestured for me to take a seat in one of the chairs facing her.

"I just want to go over what you can expect from the press conference," she said, her voice calm and professional.

"I've had a press conference before," I grumbled, feeling a surge of irritation.

She stopped and looked at me, her expression softening. "Of course, I know that," she said with a smile. "I'm not trying to talk down to you. I just wanted to make sure we're on the same page."

I sighed and leaned back in the chair, trying to shake off the irritation. "Fine, let's go over it."

Paige nodded and opened a folder on her desk. "Great. So, first things first, we want to keep the focus on the team and the positive aspects of the off-season so far. We don't want to dwell on the recent... incident."

I stared at her, waiting.

"We also want to make sure we address any questions about the team's morale and how we plan to move forward," she continued. "I've prepared some talking points for you to use, but feel free to add your own thoughts as well."

She handed me a sheet of paper with bullet points outlining the team's accomplishments, our commitment to the community, and our plans for the of the season.

"This looks… adequate."

She smiled. "I'm glad you think so. Now, let's talk about how to handle any difficult questions that might come up."

"Such as?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, for example, someone might ask about what caused you to go off," she said, her voice steady. "Considering you're The Ghost, right? Completely unflappable."

I felt a flicker of annoyance. "What about it?"

"I just want you to be prepared," she said. "You don't have to answer directly if you don't want to, but it's important to have a response ready. Because they will go out of their way to try to needle you, especially now that they know they can."

"I can handle it," I said, trying to sound confident.

"I'm sure you can," she said with a smile. "But it's always good to have a plan. And if you're ever unsure, just remember to stay calm and focused on the message we want to convey."

I nodded, feeling a grudging respect for Paige. Fuck, she was better at this than I thought, and I hated her for it.

"Okay, I think that's everything," she said, closing the folder. "Do you have any questions?"

"No," I said, standing up.

"Great," she said, standing up as well. "I'll see you at the press conference."

I nodded and turned to leave, but before I could reach the door, Paige spoke up again.

"Ryker?"

I turned back to face her. "Yeah?"

"Just remember, I'm here to help," she said, her eyes meeting mine. "We're on the same team."

I arched a brow. We'd see about that, but so far…

Fuck.

"Why do you do that?" I asked.

She cocked her head to the side. "Do what?"

"You just… take it," I said. "I'm rude. I interrupt you. Why don't you fight back?"

"I did," she said. "When I slapped you."

"So, call you a slut and you'll assault me?" I asked.

Paige paused for a moment, considering my question. "Hmm, one would think you're trying to get a reaction out of me so you can try to fire me," she said with a teasing sparkle in her eyes.

My heart flipped, and I scowled. "That's not it," I said, feeling defensive.

She leaned back in her chair. "Well, whatever the reason, I'm here to do my job. And part of that job is dealing with difficult personalities."

I couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at her words. "And you think I'm a difficult personality?" I asked flatly.

For a moment, her eyes hardened before the expression disappeared. "I've dealt with much worse," she said with a shrug. "You're protective of your team. I get that. And I'm an outsider, and I have to earn your respect."

I clenched my teeth, hating that I was actually curious about her life, about what she could mean by that. And why the hell I was so damn protective over someone I was sure I hated.

"Do I wish you were less... abrasive?" she continued, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Sure. But your heart is in the right place."

I couldn't help but feel a flicker of surprise at her words. It was the first time anyone had ever accused me of having a heart, let alone one that was in the right place.

"I've dealt with people whose... well, let's just say their hearts were not in the same place," she added, her voice taking on a serious tone.

I found myself wanting to ask her more, to find out what she meant by that. Was this her defense of why she humiliated Brendan, doing what she did? But before I could say anything, she stood up and gathered her papers.

"I should get going," she said, her tone back to its usual professionalism. "I'll see you at the press conference."

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of emotions. I hated that she had gotten under my skin, that she had made me question myself. But at the same time, I couldn't deny that there was something about her I found intriguing.

As I watched her walk out of the office, I couldn't help but wonder what else she was hiding. And why I cared so much.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I had a press conference to prepare for, and I couldn't afford to be distracted.

But as I went over the talking points Paige had given me, I couldn't help but think about what she had said. And I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her than met the eye.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples. This was going to be a long day.

I stood in the locker room, buttoning up my collared shirt. The mirror in front of me reflected a face etched with tension, lines deepening as I fumbled with the buttons. The press conference loomed ahead, and all I wanted was to get it over with.

I glanced down at my attire—a crisp, white dress shirt that stretched across my shoulders, the fabric almost too tight from hours spent in the gym. My fingers brushed against the silver cufflinks engraved with my initials. They’d been a gift from my father, a reminder of expectations I could never escape.

A navy blue suit jacket hung on the back of the chair beside me. I slid it on, feeling its weight settle on my frame. It was tailored to perfection, just like everything else in my life needed to be. The matching trousers fit snugly around my waist and legs, creases sharp enough to cut through glass. I straightened the collar and adjusted my tie—a deep burgundy silk that contrasted starkly with the white of my shirt.

I took a step back to examine the full picture in the mirror. The image reflected someone who appeared calm and composed, a man who had everything under control. But beneath the surface, anxiety gnawed at me, threatening to unravel the facade I’d worked so hard to maintain.

My polished black leather shoes gleamed under the fluorescent lights, each step echoing against the tiled floor as I paced briefly. A glance at my watch told me it was time to head out, but something held me back for a moment longer.

Dominic strolled in, hockey stick resting casually on his shoulder. His smirk could cut through steel. "Looking sharp, Kane. Dressing up for someone special?"

"Yeah," I shot back, "your mom."

Dominic chuckled, shaking his head. "Touché."

I turned back to the mirror. The image staring back at me felt foreign. A mask of control, but beneath it, chaos churned. My fingers hesitated on the last button.

"Ready for the circus?" Dominic's voice broke through my thoughts.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I muttered.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he took a step closer. "You sure you're okay? You look like you haven't slept in days."

I shrugged him off. "I'm fine."

He nodded slowly but didn't seem convinced. "All right, man. Just... don't let them get to you."

"Not planning to," I replied.

Dominic left, leaving the locker room eerily quiet except for the hum of fluorescent lights overhead. I looked at myself one more time in the mirror. Dark circles under my eyes hinted at restless nights. The reflection didn't lie; it never did.

I adjusted my collar and took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead. Paige's words echoed in my mind: We're on the same team. The phrase gnawed at me, unsettling as it was comforting.

The press conference was about to start soon. Time to face the music.