Page 3

Chapter three

~IRENE~

I step into the rink, and the cold air hits me like a splash of ice water, refreshing and a little shocking. There’s no one else in here yet besides me and my dad, who’s squinting at a clipboard on the side of the rink. Today is my second day, and I’m practically bouncing on my toes. I mean, I survived yesterday! And that was with a full-blown encounter with him . Ares Black.

I recognized his name the moment he said it in that impossibly deep voice. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard it, and it only makes things worse.

I’ve heard my father talk about Ares more than the other guys. It’s not just that he mentions him; he talks about him like he’s his own son. Dad would go on about a player named Ares—his progress, about how well he was doing on the ice. He talks about the other players, too, but there was always a different tone when he spoke of Ares, something that made me feel like he was more than just a player to Dad. Like he was a part of the family in some way. I always wondered why.

And now, I’ve finally met the elusive player I’ve heard so much about. Though, he’s not a guy on my dads team anymore. No, what I saw—what I felt for Ares isn’t something I’ve felt for anyone. The man is a walking adrenaline rush, and I’m trying to keep my heart from jumping out of my chest every time I think of him. Maybe it’s because I’ve heard Dad talk about him so much that I already feel like I know him. Whatever it is, it’s dangerous.

“Hey, Coach!” I call out jokingly as I reach my father.

He looks up, a smile stretching across his face. “Morning, sweetheart. Mathews is waiting for you. Said he wants to give you the schedule.”

“I was just headed there. I wanted to give you some fuel first.” I hand him a cup of black coffee from the coffee shop across the street. I don’t know how he drinks that. I need my coffee sweet and tasting like caramel.

“Ah, thanks!” He takes it and sips on it with a wince.

“It’s hot,” I say apologetically.

“Yeah.” He nods and wipes his mouth with a laugh. “How are you, pumpkin? Not having any second thoughts about working with your old man, are you?”

I smile at him, my heart swelling a little. My dad. The best person I know. He’s the reason I chose to spend my summer working here. Getting to see him every day, to work with him and see how he cares for his players like sons, is everything to me.

“Come on, it’s only day two,” I say with a dramatic roll of my eyes. “I’ll tell you by the end of the week.”

He chuckles, ruffling my hair like I’m still twelve. “Just keep your head on straight. The guys can be a lot, but they’re all good people.”

I wave my hand dismissively, but inside, I’m a bundle of nerves. Especially after yesterday. Ares . Just thinking about him makes my pulse trip over itself.

“Seriously,” Dad says, leaning closer. “If any of them mess with you, just tell me. I’ll have them doing laps until they can’t skate straight.”

“Thanks, Dad, but I think I’ll take them on in a verbal sparring match instead,” I say, grinning. It’s the only match I think I can win against people three times my size. Even if half of my thoughts are consumed by the huge, broody player with the killer tattoos and that look that makes my insides melt.

“Yeah, you’re good at those.” He laughs again and nudges me.

“Alright, I’m heading to see Dr. Mathews. See you at lunch.”

With one last wave to Dad, I head to the elevator.

The rink is alive with the sounds of blades cutting through the ice and the thud of sticks against pucks. My dad stands at the edge, his voice booming over the chaos, barking orders like a general commanding his troops.

“Come on, boys! Move it. I want to see some hustle today!” His eyes are fierce as he paces back and forth. Mine are glued to the swirl of players. Particularly one very tall, very intimidating player.

Ares is on the ice, of course. His gear makes him even larger, which makes his agility even more impressive. No one his size should be this fast and nimble.

Every time he skates past, my stomach flips. His focus is razor-sharp, eyes scanning the rink, and I catch myself anticipating his gaze on me. I try to pretend I’m not staring, but my eyes are glued to him. It’s like I’m watching a predator in its natural habitat—powerful, untamed, and captivating. You know you shouldn’t get close, but you still inch forward to see just how close the animal will allow you to come before it pounces.

“Keep your heads up! Communicate!” Dad calls, and the players respond, but I can barely process his words. Ares maneuvers effortlessly, weaving in and out of defenders. His movements are fluid, each shot he takes sending the puck flying with precision.

The net shakes as the puck slams into it, and I clap along with the rest of the team, but my heart is thumping for an entirely different reason.

Damn.

That’s when I see a tiny wince on his face as he skates back to the center. It’s there for a split second, and I would’ve missed it if I wasn’t already staring at him, but it’s there.

Interesting.

I type notes into my tablet, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism while my mind races with thoughts of him. I lift my gaze and look for him again. My cheeks flush as I realize I’m watching him like he’s the only player on the ice, completely mesmerized and a little scared of him. And honestly? I kind of like it.

“Focus, Irene!” I mutter, shaking my head. But it’s impossible. I steal another glance, and he catches my eye, holding my gaze as he glides away.

Ugh.

I force myself to return to my notes, scanning the players for any signs of injury. But every time I look back up, Ares is there, dominating the rink and slamming into his teammates with playful aggression. I don’t even want to think about what he looks like when he’s playing against actual rivals.

He skates past again, and I feel a rush of heat flood my cheeks. Why am I so drawn to him? This is so unprofessional. I should be looking at all of them.

But just when I think I’ve got a grip, Ares slams into Damien, and they both go down hard, the sound of their bodies hitting the ice echoing through the rink. My stomach drops as I rush to the edge, my heart pounding in my chest.

“You trying to break my bones?” Damien shouts at Ares who gets back up first and hauls Damien back on his feet.

I catch his eye again, and he raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his blue gaze. It’s like he’s saying, “See? I’m fine.”

There’s something thrilling about him. Like a tempest you can’t escape. What would it be like to be caught in that whirlwind?

I step into the hallway, tablet under my arm, fingers flying over my phone as I text Sidney about the weird, tattooed tank of a man distracting me from doing my job. It doesn’t help that she keeps sending me paparazzi shots of him out and about because as good as he looks in his gear, he looks devastating out of it.

ME: You’re not helping me by sending me photos of him, Sid. Please stop.

Just as I hit send, a sudden chill fills the air, and my instincts kick in. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I can feel someone behind me. My pulse quickens, and I slowly turn, craning my neck to look up at the towering figure standing there.

It’s him.

My breath hitches as I take in his intense gaze and the way his presence envelops the space around us. I force a smile, trying to mask the rush of nerves surging through me.

“Oh, hey!” I chirp, my voice a little higher. Has he come to talk to me? He’s been glancing my way throughout their entire practice. What if he wants to—

“You’re in my way, little thing,” he says, his deep voice low and gravelly.

I blink, realizing I’m literally blocking the door to the locker room. I look back up at him, and he raises a brow, his heavy-lidded eyes feeling like a physical touch. He takes a step closer, and I feel the air shift, the dark scent of him sending my heart into overdrive. My stomach flutters as I meet his gaze. There’s an undeniable intensity in the way he looks at me.

Does he always stare people down like that?

“Want to come in and watch?” he drawls, slow and lazy, and I realize I haven’t said anything. I haven’t moved aside, either.

“Uh, no. I…” Heat rises to my cheeks as I stumble for a response. Why does he make me so nervous?

He tilts his head slightly, and for the first time, I see slight amusement in his eyes.

“Sorry,” I mutter and quickly step aside, pressing myself against the wall. But Ares doesn’t move right away. He stands there, towering over me with a look that scares and excites me.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he walks past me, brushing against my arm. The contact sends a bolt of electricity through me, and I struggle to catch my breath. He pauses and looks down at my phone. Instinctively, I follow his gaze to my chat with Sidney, my heart dropping to my stomach from embarrassment. There’s a picture of him, front and center, staring back at me with a heart-eye emoji from Sidney. He looks back at me, his eyes slightly narrowed and a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. I quickly lock my phone and drop it to my side, looking up at him, praying the ground swallows me whole.

“She’s just—I mean, she knows I work here, and…” I shake my head, completely lost for words. Kill me. End it now. “She’s just messing with me.”

“Mm,” is his only response, his deep voice vibrating, as he disappears into the locker room with one last lingering look.

Thanks a lot, Sidney.