Page 48

48

CALL IT OFF

RORY

T he anxiety attack Aidan set off in me before the game only grows worse throughout it. All at once, it feels like everything is spiraling out of my control. The walls are closing in. Aidan’s threat, and the Matteo situation—on top of an already impossibly intense training schedule for Nationals.

Deciding to stick out the game tonight was a mistake. I’m stressed—tense. And it shows. I miss cues, messing up the opening routine in brand new and special ways. As much as I try to ignore Aidan, I’m hyper aware of his presence both on and off the ice. And he’s out for blood tonight.

Which is bad news for the Sharks because no one’s been able to get past Aidan all night. The Breakers lead 3-0. In the second period, Aidan delivers a brutal hit on the Sharks’ left wing, Jack Kane, hard enough to shatter the glass. Ten feet from me. Our eyes meet as the refs drag him off of Kane and into the penalty box.

I fall during the third period ice dance, over-rotating on the simple double lutz. I recover quickly and finish out the routine, but my hands are shaking by the end.

Even though, through it all, Aidan pretends I don’t exist. Aside from his glance during the incident with Kane, he doesn’t even look my way.It has me so on edge. I’m no longer sure if him ignoring me is a good thing or a bad thing.

Of course, I can’t keep my traitorous eyes off of him. As much as I try not to, I’m constantly finding my gaze inevitably drawn right back to the Irish Devil, whether he’s on the ice, on the bench, or in the box.

That damn box.I swear to God he’s doing it just to mess with me.

He’s playing really well tonight. Violent ly. The Breakers’ defenseman has spent a lot of time in the penalty box tonight, racking up the penalties. I almost feel bad for the Washington Sharks. Their offensive line has taken quite a beating.

With two minutes remaining on the clock, the Breakers are up by five. Aidan slams Marcus Powers into the boards, this time right in front of me. The force of the hit pushes the glass outward.

Mouth wide open, I look up to find myself the focus of Aidan’s furious glare. Green eyes blaze with something that looks an awful lot like betrayal. The intensity of it leaves me breathless. Giving Powers one last shove, Aidan releases him to skate off the ice—finally thrown out of the game for charging.

I watch him go. Discomfort settles deep in my gut, setting loose a wild storm of emotions I can no longer ignore. He’s pissed at me. He’s pissed at me for what my father did to him—and rightfully so.

The second the game is over, I race down the tunnel to the safety of the locker room, tearing through my bag to find my new cell phone. I know Matteo is monitoring it, but right now, I don’t care.

The rest of the girls trickle in behind me and I dart back out into the hall, phone in hand. I walk through the tunnels of the arena until I find a quiet place, then I dial my father’s number. My hands are shaking so badly, it takes three attempts to get the digits right.

I chew on my nail as I listen to the ringing on the other end. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” I urge my father to answer. When it goes to voicemail, I almost lose it. But I take a deep breath, steadying myself once more before dialing the number a second time.

This time, he picks up.“Aurora? I am busy.” He’s irritated. I press on quickly before he hangs up on me.

“Papa, can we talk?” I hover in the empty hallway. “It’s important,” I add, biting my lip. I can almost feel his glare through the phone.

“Fine, Aurora. What is it?”

I choose my words carefully. I only have one shot at this. “I was hoping to speak with you about the engagement.”

The silence on the other end of the phone carries on so long I’m tempted to repeat myself.

“What about it?” my father asks sharply, his voice cold and measured.

“I’m not sure Matteo is—” I have to be careful here, “— the right man for me…”He doesn’t interrupt, so I continue talking rapidly, needing to get this out. “You see, at your party, Matteo, well—” I pick at my fingertips, “—he laid his hands on me.”

Nothing.

I go on, my voice shaking a little to match my hands, “And the other night—he hurt me, Papa.” Tears rise in my throat and I struggle to keep them at bay, digging deep to find some more courage.“Please don’t make me marry him. He scares me,” I beg, my voice finally choking up. “I think it would be best if we called off the engagement.”

And there it is. I did it.

“Aurora,” my father pauses, and I can’t tell by his tone which way this is going to go. “Your engagement to Matteo is of critical importance to the Bratva.” My heart falls. “This marriage will solidify our position in the city and allow us to expand operations in brand new ways. It is crucial you make him happy, ангел. This union must go forward.”

Silent tears stream down my face and I can’t muster up even a half-hearted reply to Adrik’s cold and critical response to what I’ve just told him.

“I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding. Are you certain you didn’t cause him anger? You can be quite trying, Aurora. Matteo will need time to learn how to deal with you.”

Deal with me? If there was any part of me still holding out any hope that my father genuinely loves me—it’s gone.

“I will ask some of the Bratva wives to reach out. They will have good advice to share with you. How you can make him happy. It is your duty, ангел. You are a Kostalov.”He speaks the words with pride.

When I still don’t respond, his tone grows firm. “Do you understand Aurora? I’m sure it will get better. You just need to learn how to make Matteo happy. You must.”

I want to vomit. “Yes, Papa.” My words are soft, barely audible.

“Nikolai and I look forward to your wedding. You will be so beautiful, ангел.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Now go and make amends with Matteo. I’m sure it’s all just a misunderstanding. Do you want me to call him?”

“No,” I rush out. In no universe would my father calling Matteo help my situation. If anything, it would only make it far, far worse. “No—I’ll handle it Papa.”

“Good.” He sounds pleased, despite my broken words. I’m not even bothering to hide my complete loss of hope. “I will see you at the rehearsal dinner.” The click in my ear tells me he’s disconnected the call.

Taking a minute, I rub away the tears on my cheeks, stealing into a nearby bathroom to splash some cold water on my face to cool my burning red eyes before heading back to the locker room, my mood somber.

When I run, I will leave nothing behind.