Page 10

His fingers flex against the armrest of his chair before curling into a fist, tension bleeding into his shoulders, but he still doesn’t speak. Just scans the room again, expression blank. Then he looks straight at me, and this time, he doesn’t look away.

Neither do I.

The chaos around us dulls, fades into background noise, and for a second, there’s nothing else. No PR nightmare. No boardroom full of people strategizing how to clean up his mess.

Just Chase, watching me as if he’s relieved I’m here. Like the air’s a little easier to breathe now that I’ve said something.

As if he’s missed me.

Maybe he knew I’d be here and have to deal with this. That I would be the one standing in this room, working to control the narrative, shaping the way the world will see him when, for the first time in weeks, I can barely figure out how I see him myself.

The thought makes something curl low in my stomach, something hot and unwelcome.

I shift in my seat, clenching my jaw as I glare at him, hoping he can understand what I’m trying to convey without saying it.

You fucking idiot.

His hands tighten around the armrest, knuckles turning white as he holds himself still. He wants to move, to react, to do something. But instead, he sits there and lets me see it. The weight of it. Just for one single, terrifying second.

And then he buries it again. His shoulders relax, smirk sliding effortlessly back into place as he holds my gaze.

“He needs to be in a stable relationship.”

Our eye contact shatters as we both turn at the GM’s words. A strange, unfamiliar twist settles in my stomach.

Chase Walton in a stable relationship.

Something about that thought makes my fingers tighten around my pen. It’s a split-second reaction, gone before I can analyze it, but then I snort.

Across from me, Chase lifts a brow.

“Something funny, Carlson?”

I press my lips together. Remain professional and don’t engage.

Instead, I look down at my nails—freshly painted yesterday, a deep plum with tiny silver crescent moons—digging into my palm on the table.

When I glance up again, his gaze is on them, a corner of his mouth lifting as if he’s noting I’ve changed them recently.

The GM leans forward. “Actually, it’s a solid angle. If he’s in a serious relationship, the media moves on. It humanizes him. Changes the narrative.”

I glance at Chase, who’s watching the GM now with mild curiosity, but when his eyes meet mine again, there’s a spark there. It’s a challenge and irritation rolled up into one. He’s just as pissed by this circus, but equally pissed I’ve been avoiding him. I look away quickly.

“And how do we do that?” someone from legal asks.

“We need people to see him as serious,” John says, tapping a pen against the table. “More mature, less…” He waves his hand, clearly searching for a delicate word.

“Of a train wreck?” I offer before I can stop myself.

The room erupts into laughter, but Chase is unfazed. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his grin stretching wider. “You volunteering, Carlson?”

I roll my eyes. “Not if you paid me.”

“Come on, it’d be fun,” he teases. “Think of all the perks. You get to be seen with me, for one.”

“Oh, lucky me. Front-row seats to your next PR disaster.”

More laughter. Nervous chuckles travel around the room, some trying to hide it, others not bothering.

Chase doesn’t miss a beat.

“Ah, so you have been paying attention.”

I open my mouth to reply, but legal cuts in.

“If he did, it’d have to be someone believable. Not just any woman.”

John nods in agreement. “Yes, someone who already has a connection to him would be good. Otherwise, it'll look fake.”

Chase hums. “Guess I should start swiping right, then.”

John shakes his head, not even looking at him. “You need a relationship, not a felony charge.”

“Oh, come on,” he laughs as chuckles ripple around the table, “I can be very charming.”

“ Charming ?” I repeat, genuinely in disbelief we’re having this conversation.

“You wound me, Carlson.”

“Someone should,” I mutter under my breath.

He grins. One of the legal reps snorts.

John sighs. “Alright, let’s focus. Chase, if we position you in a stable relationship, it steers the conversation away from… well.” He gestures at the muted video still on the screen.

“My spectacular ass?”

Coach kicks him under the table. “For the love of—can you take this seriously?”

“Oh, I am,” Chase says, his smirk widening. “Deeply. I’m very committed to my public image.”

I exhale sharply, gritting my teeth. “Yes, we can see how much it means to you, given the parade of regret we’re currently witnessing.”

Another choked laugh, this time from marketing.

Chase just shrugs. “At least I’m consistent.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“You’re always so supportive.”

“Call it a reality check,” I shoot back, pressing my fingers to my temples.

The GM chuckles and waves his hand between me and Chase. “Actually, you two already spend time together, don’t you? You’re in the same social circle outside of work?”

No.

No, no, no.

I open my mouth to protest, but before I can, Chase leans forward with a shit-eating grin. “We’re practically inseparable,” he says, voice dripping with fake sincerity. “Right, Zo?”

I want to murder him. Here. Now. In front of everyone. But instead, I force a tight smile. “Right. Like a bad rash.”

Chase’s smile only widens as the room erupts in quiet laughter, and I catch one of the Storm execs smiling, clearly entertained by our back-and-forth.

I can feel my face flush, but I refuse to back down.

Chase lives for this—pushing my buttons just enough to make me snap, then playing it off like it’s all fun and games.

John cuts through the chuckles. “Actually, that’s an interesting point.”

I glance at him, suddenly on alert. “What is?”

“The fact that you two already have this connection.” He says it carefully, as though testing the waters. “It would make any public narrative about you seem more believable.”

The room goes quiet, and I feel it before I see it.

The shifting glances, the slow realization creeping across the table.

This can’t be happening. I look around, hoping someone will realize how absurd this idea is.

But John’s eyes are gleaming, and several of the team start looking at me thoughtfully.

My spine stiffens.

And then I laugh. Because it’s hilarious. Delusional.

I stop laughing when I realize no one else is joining in.

“Absolutely not,” I say instantly, shaking my head. “No way.”

John spreads his hands. “Zoe, hear us out—”

“No.” I exhale sharply, trying to force the idea out of existence. “This is not happening.”

“Oh, come on,” Chase drawls. “Think about it, Carlson. The world knows we’re friends. We already show up to events together. You just get an upgrade to be my arm candy.”

“I’d rather chew my own arm off.”

Across the table, one of the Storm execs chokes on their water. John glances at him, and I can see the wheels turning. The idea is already snowballing.

I turn to the management team. “This is insane. You’re suggesting I pretend to date him?”

The GM shrugs, as if this is just any other day of the week and not the complete fucking apocalypse. “It solves the problem. You two already have chemistry. It wouldn’t be a hard sell.”

Chase’s grin widens, and I swear he’s leaning into this just to piss me off. “We do have chemistry, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Like a bad science experiment.”

Chase lets out a soft chuckle, tipping back in his chair. “Wow, Zo. Try not to sound too insulted.”

I snap my gaze to him, irritation flaring up my spine. “You think I want my name attached to yours in a scandal like this?”

“Hmm, Zoe Walton does have a nice ring to it.”

“You have got to be—” I turn to John, pointing at Chase like he’s the world’s worst PowerPoint slide. “He can’t even be serious for two seconds. You really think the media is going to believe he’s in a real relationship?”

John blows out a sigh, looking at Chase sternly. “Think you can keep it together?”

Chase doesn’t hesitate. “For Zoe? Absolutely.”

I stare at him.

Then I whip my head toward the one man that is generally more exasperated with Chase than myself, ready to plead my case. “Coach.”

“Well,” he says, gruff and deeply unimpressed. “If we’re already dealing with this mess, might as well have some fun watching you keep his ass in line.”

Chase grins, slow and catastrophic.

The GM gestures between me and Chase. “You two have been friends for years. Zoe is in the hockey world, and you spend time together. This is a reasonable solution.”

I shake my head. “We barely spend time together.”

John exhales. “Look. This isn’t an official decision, yet. We’ll have NDAs drafted, but we’re not forcing anything. If you’re open to it, it seems like a viable path forward.”

I press my lips together, pulse hammering.

Chase shifts in my peripheral vision, too smug and too fucking casual.

The weight of the last two weeks presses in. The way I’ve avoided him, the way I’ve shoved every inconvenient thought into a tiny, locked box inside my head.

I snap my notebook closed. “I’ll consider it.”

John nods. “Good. We’ll reconvene tomorrow.”

Chase stretches lazily and stands first, all effortless confidence.

As he brushes past me, he leans down close. “You know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, just for me. “If you wanted to date me, you could’ve just asked.”

I don’t hurl my pen at his stupid, beautiful face.

But God, I want to.