Page 9

Chapter 9

Paige

I paced back and forth behind the curtains, nerves twisting in my stomach. The press conference was moments away, and Ryker was nowhere to be seen. I glanced at my watch for the tenth time, biting my lower lip. Where was he? We were supposed to address the crowd together, but it seemed like I might have to do this alone.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to steady myself. The room beyond the curtain buzzed with chatter, the anticipation palpable. I couldn't shake the feeling that this was a test—another hurdle Ryker had thrown in my path to see if I'd stumble.

Just as I began to resign myself to facing the press solo, I heard the soft click of a door opening. My heart skipped a beat as I turned, and there he was.

Ryker stepped into the room with an air of calm that contrasted sharply with my own anxiety. He moved with an almost feline grace, each step measured and deliberate. His sharp features and intense eyes gave him an aura of quiet authority. His dark hair was neatly slicked back, emphasizing his strong jawline and high cheekbones.

He wore a tailored black suit that fit him perfectly, highlighting his broad shoulders and lean frame. The crisp white shirt beneath it made him look even more striking. A dark tie completed the ensemble, giving him an appearance that was both commanding and impeccably stylish.

My gaze lingered on him longer than it should have. He looked good—really good—and I felt a pang of something I couldn't quite name. Maybe it was admiration, or maybe it was just relief that he had shown up after all.

He caught my eye and raised an eyebrow slightly, as if questioning my scrutiny.

"You ready?" His voice cut through the silence, low and steady.

"Yeah," I replied, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Of course. Absolutely."

He nodded once, then turned his attention toward the curtain that separated us from the waiting press. Without another word, he moved forward, and I found myself falling into step beside him.

As we approached the edge of the stage, my nerves began to settle somewhat. Ryker's presence had that effect on me—grounding me in a way I hadn't expected. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Ryker and I stepped onto the stage together, the blinding flash of cameras hitting us instantly. I took a deep breath, letting the sea of faces and murmurs wash over me. Ryker gave me a brief nod, signaling it was my turn to take the podium first.

I approached the microphone, my heart hammering in my chest but my face betraying none of my nerves. "Good afternoon, everyone," I began, my voice steady and warm. "Thank you all for being here today. Your time and dedication to covering our team means a lot to us."

The room quieted, the murmurs dying down as the reporters leaned in, their pens poised and cameras ready. I felt a small surge of confidence; they were listening.

"I know many of you have questions about the recent footage that surfaced," I continued, maintaining eye contact with the crowd. "I want to address it directly and honestly."

Taking another deep breath, I straightened my shoulders. "The video shows a fight that broke out over the summer at a local bar. It was an unfortunate incident, and it’s something we deeply regret."

I paused, letting my words sink in before continuing. "Emotions run high in competitive environments like ours. That doesn’t excuse what happened, but it does provide some context."

My eyes scanned the room, meeting the gaze of several reporters who seemed genuinely curious rather than confrontational.

"What matters now is how we handle this moving forward," I said firmly. "We are taking steps to ensure such incidents do not happen again. We’ve already begun implementing conflict resolution workshops and are working closely with our team to foster a more supportive environment."

A hand shot up from one of the reporters in the front row. I nodded at him.

"Can you tell us what sparked the altercation?" he asked.

"Without going into too much detail," I replied carefully, "it stemmed from a misunderstanding during an unexpected but deeply appreciated fan interaction. Tensions were already high due to missing out on the playoffs, and unfortunately, things escalated quickly."

Another reporter chimed in. "How is the team handling this internally?"

"We're addressing it head-on," I said without hesitation. "Open communication is key. We've had several team meetings since the incident to air grievances and rebuild trust among players."

I glanced at Ryker standing just behind me for support before turning back to the crowd.

"Our focus remains on growth and unity," I concluded with a determined smile. "We appreciate your understanding and continued support as we navigate through this challenging time."

Another hand shot up, and I nodded towards the reporter, bracing myself for the next question.

"Can you explain Kane's unexpected outburst during the incident?" she asked, her tone probing but not unkind.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts. "Mr. Kane's outburst was unfortunate," I began, choosing my words carefully. "It stemmed from a place of deep frustration. He is incredibly passionate about the game and his team. That night, he felt a lot of pressure and stress, which unfortunately boiled over." A murmur rippled through the room, but I held my ground. "Mr. Kane has since acknowledged his mistake and is committed to addressing it. He’s been working closely with our sports psychologist to manage his emotions more effectively in high-stress situations."

Another reporter, a man with a graying beard, raised his hand next. "Why would a fan be targeted in such a way? It seems out of character for your team, especially considering the Mathers incident so recently…"

I nodded, understanding the gravity of the question. "It's important to clarify that the fan was not intentionally targeted," I said firmly. "The altercation began as a misunderstanding and quickly escalated. The fan in question was enthusiastic but in that enthusiasm, might have teetered a line from discussing hockey to discussing things that were personal in nature. And while our team loves interacting with fans, it's a general rule of decorum that personal lives will be kept out of constructive criticisms."

I saw some heads nodding in understanding, which gave me a bit more confidence to continue.

"We've reached out to the fan personally," I added. "We’ve apologized and offered them compensation for their distress. It's crucial for us to maintain good relationships with our supporters; they are the heart and soul of our team."

The graying reporter seemed satisfied with my response and scribbled something in his notebook.

Another hand went up, this time from a young woman in the back. "How do you plan to prevent similar incidents in the future?"

I smiled slightly; this was something I had prepared extensively for. "We are implementing several new measures," I explained. "First, conflict resolution workshops will be mandatory for all team members moving forward. Second, we’re establishing clearer guidelines on how to handle interactions with fans during high-stress periods, especially in the off-season." Pausing for effect, I continued. "Finally, we’re fostering an environment where players can express their frustrations constructively rather than letting them fester."

A few more hands went up as I finished my answer, but before calling on another reporter, I glanced back at Ryker once more. His eyes met mine briefly before he stepped forward to join me at the podium. The room seemed to hold its breath. His presence commanded attention in a way that was almost unsettling. He adjusted the microphone slightly before speaking, his voice cool and measured.

“Good afternoon,” he began, his tone devoid of any warmth. “I’m Ryker Kane, and I’m here to address the incident that has caused quite a stir.”

He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in. The room was silent, hanging on his every word.

“What happened was unfortunate,” he continued, his eyes scanning the crowd. “But it’s also important to understand that emotions run high in our line of work. We push ourselves to the brink every day—mentally, physically, and emotionally. Even—and especially—during the off-season."

A few reporters nodded, their pens scribbling furiously.

“I take full responsibility for my actions,” Ryker said, his gaze unwavering. “I allowed my frustrations to get the better of me. I’m not here to make excuses. The responsibility is mine.”

There was no apology in his tone, just a stark acknowledgment of the facts.

“One thing I want to make clear,” he added, his voice growing firmer, “is that our team stands united. We are taking steps to ensure this doesn’t happen again, but we will not be apologizing for our passion or our commitment to each other.”

A murmur rippled through the room at his words. I could see some reporters exchanging glances, perhaps surprised by his bluntness.

“We’re implementing new measures to manage stress and conflict more effectively, as Ms. Adams mentioned,” Ryker continued. “But I'm taking it a step further specifically when it comes to the team."

He glanced at me briefly before turning back to the crowd.

“Paige Adams here has been instrumental in these efforts,” he said, giving me a nod of acknowledgment. “Her dedication to this team is unwavering, and her strategies have already begun to make a difference.”

My heart skipped a beat at his unexpected praise, but I kept my face composed.

“We appreciate your support as we navigate through this challenging time,” Ryker concluded. “Our focus remains on growth and unity. Thank you.”

He stepped back from the podium, signaling the end of our statements. The room erupted into questions once more, but I felt a strange sense of relief wash over me. For better or worse, we had faced this together.

The room buzzed with anticipation as the reporters fired off their questions. I took a step back, allowing Ryker to take the lead. His presence commanded attention, and I watched as he fielded the questions with his usual, unflappable demeanor.

"Mr. Kane," a reporter in the front row began, her voice steady but probing. "Do you think your leadership style contributed to the incident?"

Ryker's gaze locked onto hers, his expression unreadable. "Leadership isn't about preventing every mistake," he replied, his voice as cold as steel. "It's about how you respond when those mistakes occur. We address issues directly and take immediate action to rectify them."

Another hand shot up from a reporter in the middle of the room. "How do you plan to rebuild trust within the team after such a public incident?"

Ryker didn't miss a beat. "Trust is earned through consistent actions, not words," he said, his tone unwavering. "We are implementing measures to ensure better communication and conflict resolution. Our focus is on moving forward together."

The reporter nodded.

A third reporter leaned forward, his brow furrowed in curiosity. "Mr. Kane, can you elaborate on the new measures you're implementing?"

Ryker's eyes narrowed slightly, as if calculating the best way to respond. "Ms. Adams has already addressed them," he pointed out. "I won't be wasting time and rehashing what she's already stated."

I watched as the room absorbed his words, their pens scratching across their notepads. Ryker's answers were precise, almost surgical in their delivery. He left no room for doubt or further questioning.

As the reporters continued to bombard him with questions, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of admiration for him. Despite his cold exterior and calculated responses, there was an undeniable strength in his leadership.

"Question," a reporter called out, her voice cutting through the chatter. "Do you believe this incident will affect your performance on the ice?"

Ryker's gaze shifted to her, his expression unchanging. "Our focus remains on growth and unity," he repeated, his voice firm. "This incident will not define us. We will learn from it and come back stronger."

The room buzzed with energy as Ryker continued fielding questions with his usual stoic precision. I stood beside him, feeling a mixture of relief and exhaustion. The reporters’ relentless curiosity was beginning to wear on me, but I held my ground, determined to see this through.

A hand shot up from a male reporter near the back. His slicked-back hair and sharp suit gave him an air of arrogance that made me uneasy. He cleared his throat before speaking, his voice dripping with faux sincerity.

"Mr. Kane," he began, "how do you feel about having someone like Paige Adams here handling PR? It's refreshing to see someone so... charming and inexperienced bring a new perspective to the team."

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. My stomach churned at the thinly veiled insult, but before I could react, Ryker stepped forward.

"Charming and inexperienced?" Ryker's voice was ice cold, his eyes narrowing as he fixed the reporter with a steely glare. "I suggest you choose your words more carefully."

The reporter shifted uncomfortably but managed a smug smile. "I only meant that her approach is different from what we're used to."

Ryker's expression hardened further, his jaw clenched tightly. "Paige Adams is not just charming and inexperienced. She is competent, dedicated, and far more capable than most people in this room give her credit for."

My heart raced at his unexpected defense. The reporters exchanged glances, clearly taken aback by Ryker's ferocity.

"Her strategies have already made a significant impact," Ryker continued, his voice rising slightly. "So unless you have something constructive to add about her professional abilities, I'd advise you to keep your condescending remarks to yourself."

The reporter's smug smile faltered, replaced by a look of genuine discomfort. He mumbled an apology before quickly sitting down.

Ryker turned back to the crowd, his expression still stormy. "We are done here," he declared, his tone brooking no argument.

As we stepped away from the podium, I felt a strange mixture of gratitude and confusion. Ryker had defended me with an intensity I hadn't expected—an intensity that left me both flattered and unsettled.

We made our way off the stage together, the murmurs of the press fading into the background. I stole a glance at Ryker as we walked side by side, trying to decipher the enigma that was him. But for now, I was just grateful for his support in a moment when I needed it most.

"Thank you," I murmured, the words barely escaping my lips.

He scoffed, his eyes flicking to mine with disdain. "I didn't do that for you," he said, his voice low and cutting. "We're part of the same team, remember? Even if I don't like you, and I actually agree that you are inexperienced, that doesn't mean some low-tier blogger is allowed to say those things about you, especially in this setting."

I blinked, the sting of his words mingling with the strange sense of gratitude still lingering in my chest. Before I could respond, he turned on his heel and walked away, his broad shoulders cutting through the lingering crowd of reporters.

I watched him go, a swirl of conflicting emotions churning inside me. Gratitude for his unexpected defense. Annoyance at his abruptness and blunt critique. Maybe both.

As he disappeared around the corner, I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. There was no time to dwell on Ryker Kane’s complicated nature or his motives. We had weathered the press conference together, and that was enough for now.