“You’re incredible.” I squeeze her hand as we enter the gallery.
She turns toward me. “I just let my sass get the better of me and think I told off a reporter. That’s not good for business.”
“I disagree. You were civil, and that speech was spot-on. I think you gained fans. Hell, you gained more of my respect and I didn’t think that was possible.” I kiss her gently, this time on the lips.
We walk the gallery, and Serena surveys the models. It’s some live-action-pose thing. She and Charlie discuss hemlines, seams, and fabrics. I’m lost. Lost in her. I can’t take my eyes off her. She smiles, a dusty pink hue painting her high cheekbones, as she turns to me.
“You’re staring at me.” She laces her fingers through mine and I tug her closer to me.
“Is that a problem?”
She laughs. “No. I like you staring at me. But, in case you haven’t noticed, every woman in this room is staring at you.”
“I haven’t noticed a one.” It’s true. My eyes are glued to her. She is dazzling, hypnotic, with this pull over me that is stronger than ever. “I’m with you. Not them. Never them.”
“It’s disrespectful to the designer,” she whispers in my ear. “Why don’t we wish him well and leave? Let’s not detract from his night to shine.”
Serena tells the designer how much she admires his designs. He is flattered, thanks us both for coming, kisses Serena on the cheek, and shakes my hand. Charlie has called the car and we exit through the back with no reporter in sight.
Once seated, Charlie checks his cell. “Oh my God. Serena, have you seen this?” He holds out the screen to her and squeals, “#NoBodyShaming is trending. So is your business.”
Serena grabs her own cell, which is vibrating. “Becca, hi. Wait—what?” She puts Becca on speaker.
“Serena, the website crashed. There was so much traffic that our website crashed. Just before it did, sales spiked through the roof.” Becca laughs. “You just launched your brand with a bang.”
“I’ll call you back in a bit.” Serena disconnects the call and turns to me. “This was never my intention when I invited you. Please believe me. I never even considered—”
“That dating me has its perks?” I smooth a worry line from her brow. “I’m joking. Serena, it wasn’t me. It was you. Your speech. It was awe-inspiring. You did this.”
Even though I know it was never Serena’s intention to cash in on our relationship, the Web and social media have already begun turning the cogs on that wheel. Charlie is exuberant, while Lucas eyes me with concern. He knows, like I do, that they can easily tear Serena down as quickly as they build her.
This is what real life is like with the Christian Chase. In a way I wish we didn’t publicly commit tonight. Although we couldn’t dodge this forever, one more night away from the chaos would have been preferable. But it’s too late now to second-guess.
Serena wraps her arms around my neck and clings for dear life. As if she’s feeling it, too. The pressure building, the potential strain.
“We’re good. Solid.” I grin. “This was our narrative, right?”
“Yeah,” she whispers so only I can hear. It’s just the two of us, as I block Charlie and Lucas’s conversation. “Let’s not forget that. Please.”
Her plea is raw, and I must be careful. The sincerity in her baby blues is enough to make me fall in love. If I wanted to. If I were ready for such a thing.
That feeling of jumping off a cliff headfirst has morphed. I now feel like I’m falling from a twenty-story building, flailing for dear life as the vultures begin to circle. Since this is new to me, since I’ve never had a relationship like this, I don’t know what happens next. The only thing I can predict is that I won’t give up without a fight. No, I’ll fight for us as long as I can. Because with the rise will eventually come the fall.
It’ll be a steep fall at that.
Chapter 13
Christian
I answer my cell through the Bluetooth in my Rover. “Good morning, gorgeous.”
“Hey, handsome. I wanted to wish you luck before your medical and physical testing today. Did I get the professional ice hockey lingo correct?” Serena’s chuckle fills my car. Over the past few months, she’s been trying to learn all there is to know about my sport, which is an ego boost to say the least.
“Yeah, you nailed it. I’m about to pull into the facility parking lot now. What are you up to?”
“Five-seven, but with four-inch heels.” She pauses while I laugh.
Only Serena can make me laugh like this. “Four inches? You’re slacking this morning.”
“Well, I’m walking down Fifth Avenue as we speak, with an iced latte, doing reconnaissance. I’m currently staring through a window at a promising dress that should have an A-line skirt. It would be flattering for all body types if it did.”
“Make it happen.” I nod at the security guard at the gate, then find a spot. Putting the car in park, I glance at the clock. I’m early, and I’ve got time for Serena. In truth, I don’t want to hang up.
Both of us have been busy with our careers and I haven’t seen her as much as I want. Couple that with the fact that her line has plateaued after a highly successful launch, and that Mike is still around and still a pain in my ass. It all equates to pressure. Heavy, winding, making-it-hard-to-breathe pressure for us both. She’s the only one keeping me sane.
“You okay?” I ask, noting she’s gone silent. Something’s wrong. I know it instinctively. Just like I know that she’s currently sipping her latte. Stalling.
Before I can reassure her, Serena explains, “I miss you and just wanted to hear your voice. Now knock ’em dead, or whatever you do at these physicals. I’d say break a leg, but that seems more like tempting fate.”
“Hey.” My heart is in my throat. She’s deflecting. Something is wrong. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing I’m going to discuss now. This is a big day for you.”
“I can handle it. Besides, I won’t relent, so tell me.” I wait, listening to her deep, raspy sigh. I can only imagine what is churning in that mind of hers.
“There’s a rumor about discontent in your team—because of me. I was asked for a comment this morning. I denied it. I think she believed me.”
“She? Who is she?”
Serena exhales. “A local sports reporter. She quoted an anonymous source.”
“What the fuck? Seriously?” Mike is still around, and on his best behavior with the coaches. Since no one wanted him on a trade, I’m stuck with him. “That son of a bitch. Gallagher’s responsible for this.”
“Yep. Any chance he fails his physical?” Serena’s sarcasm is twenty-five on a scale of one to ten.
My index finger taps against my steering wheel. “No—but he may not make the cut at training camp. He’s facing being benched. The new acquisition, Gunnar Valentin, is kicking his ass and Mike knows it. Son of a fucking bitch.”
“This is why I didn’t want to tell you. You can’t do anything about it, Chris. You’ve got to nail the medical and physical tests, then nail training camp. I’m all right. I can handle a local reporter.” Her tone is dripping with concern, and I imagine that her brow is crinkled with worry lines. That’s how well I know her now. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid. The Nighthawks are top priority. This is the beginning of your first season. It’s important.”
Serena’s right and I yield, albeit reluctantly. “Yes, ma’am. I heard that. But, we’ll handle this together. I promise.”
“Okay.” Her pauses are becoming more prolonged. “Now, kick some ass—no, don’t kick ass. I don’t want you brawling with Mike. Just show them what you’ve got. I’m rooting for you.”
The call disconnects and my stomach is in knots. Serena is keeping something else from me, but I can’t investigate now. I’m about to enter t
he most crucial four days I’ve had with the Nighthawks and my eyes must remain on the prize.
Exiting the Rover, I head to the entrance of our training facility. Here I’ll join all signed and drafted players and we’ll vie for spots on the Nighthawks. It’s intense; it’s a powder keg. The stakes couldn’t be higher, unless we’re talking Stanley Cup playoffs. Or the finals.
Right now, today, we’re all in the best shape we can be. We’re going to be tested on and off ice and be pressured to amp up our skills and abilities. We’re basically lab rats. We are here to prove our strength, agility, and physical prowess.
Some guys cave under pressure, and brawls may occur. The rest support one another. It’s a team-building moment. All of us coming together for the team. Especially when the suits show up with cameras. Then everyone is on his best behavior.
This isn’t my first rodeo, and I’m in a zone. It’s my sport. My ice. I own this shit. I am strength and endurance. Whatever they throw at me—sprints, vertical jumps, squats, treadmill, laps—I’m in control of all of it. Even the Wingate test. Yeah, I was born for this. Competition is what I thrive on. I walk Mike off; I walk off my concerns for Serena. The next few days will define my season with the Nighthawks and I won’t fuck this up.
Serena is prepared. I made sure she knew what she was getting into during the past few months. Nothing for me to worry about. She’s strong, brave, and can handle herself. Now, I need to handle my shit. Be the guy she chose. Hockey defines me; it is the essence of who I am, of what I am. Time to prove myself. Again.
Entering the rink, I find Nick immediately. We shake hands. “You ready for this, Chris?”
“Hell, yeah. How about you?”
Nick punches the air. “I’m a fighter, dude. I can smell that cup from here. Three-peat. You, me, and Stanley.”
I smile. I can taste it, too.
“Who says you old men will make the cut?” It’s Mike. He’s goading me. At least trying to. I refuse to retaliate.
Besides, Nick says it best. “Fuck off.”
We join the rest of our team, Mike be damned, and start this preseason together. Me and Nick. How it’s been for longer than I can remember. I’ve got his back and he’s got mine.
Something tells me, with Mike gunning for me, I’m gonna need Nick more than ever now.
* * *
—
Nick drives over to my place for a little downtime before we go back to training camp tomorrow. That’s when we’ll be divided into two groups and take it to the ice. That’s when the pressure really mounts and tempers flare. Tomorrow, and the day after, will separate the A-listers from the players who will warm the bench. They’re still important—we’ve all got roles to fill. Some more than others. We all are chasing the same recognition, the same cup. We all know it. That’s why it’s tough. Because any one of us can be on top or bottom. It’s half skill and half pure damn luck.
I hand Nick a Gatorade and take mine to my deck. We sit at the table, watching Puck run around the fenced backyard. The late afternoon sun shines as ceiling fans whirl above us, staving off the Indian summer. Lifting my cell, I check to see if Serena has called.
“Dude, I know you two are hot and heavy, but relax.” Nick’s got this concerned look on his face. “Give her some space.”
A split second is all it takes for my suspicions to awaken. “Why would she need space?” I stare at Nick as he gulps more Gatorade. The sound of his foot tapping against the deck is in full force. That’s a telltale sign that Nick is hiding something. I know his involuntary actions.
My every hair follicle prickles as I study him through narrowed eyes. “What do you know that I don’t?”
His cell vibrates on the table between us. Illuminated on the screen is a text from Serena.
Thanks, Nick.
I turn toward my best friend. “Why is Serena texting you?”
“Chris, it’s not what you think.” He raises his palms in the air.
“You don’t know what I’m fucking thinking.” Serena is stressed and being pressured by reporters while my best friend is having text conversations with her behind my back. I don’t know what to think. “Answer me, Nick.”
The tapping of his foot is faster now, making my deck vibrate while my blood pressure spikes. Good thing I got my EKG this morning, because his current state of silence is pissing me off.
I pick up my phone to call her, but he grabs my cell. “Don’t! She’s getting shit about the rumor Mike released. That she’s the cause of friction on the team. She doesn’t want you to know.”
“A reporter called her this morning. I know.”
Nick shakes his head. “No, you don’t. Not all of it. You have been too busy training, Chris. She’s being hammered on social media.”
Hammered…“What do you mean?”
“There’s this mob mentality and people can be rabid.” Nick pauses, inhaling a deep breath. “It’s affecting her business. Sales are down. They’re fat-shaming her and slut-shaming her. She’s handed her company’s social media to Becca and Charlie. She can’t look anymore.”
“How long has this been going on? Why didn’t you tell me?” I don’t do social media. I piss off too many fans way too often…by winning, by losing, by breathing. I don’t even have any social media accounts. Serena has one. Her business account.
Shit. “You should have told me.”
Nick stares at the table, wearing a look of guilt. “Sure. Right. For the first time in your life, you’re happy. You’re in a relationship with someone who cares about you. Like I would ruin that. Besides, the rumors began percolating a couple of weeks ago. They didn’t gain steam until this week.”
“Show me.” I hand Nick his phone. Unlike my cell, the Twitter app is installed on his. Nick’s favorite hobby is reading through feeds, studying opposing players’ posts, and searching for any weakness that our team can take advantage of. It helped when we were with the Infernos. It will help with the Nighthawks.
He types Serena’s name in the search and hands me back his cell.
“Jesus.” One comment after another fills the feed, each more hateful than the next. Rising to my feet, I walk into the house, the blast of AC failing to cool my temper, which continues to rise as I dial Serena.
“Hey, how did it go? I bet you aced your medical and physical tests.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I wish that I had checked my temper before speaking. I sound more accusatory than I intended.
“I did tell you. This morning. Besides, you have other stuff going on, Chris. Important stuff. This is your career.” She speaks slowly, quietly, as if I’m a child who needs to be coddled.
I shove my fingers through my hair. “What about your career? Your business. Nick admitted the truth, so don’t lie to me.”
“God damn it. I told him not to tell you—”
“This isn’t his fault. It’s yours. You should have told me. You owe me that.” I’m pacing. Fast. As if I didn’t expel enough energy today. I glance through the sliding glass door and Nick is staring at me, shaking his head. I refuse to heed his warning. “Say something, Serena.”
“Why are you angry at me? I’m the one being verbally assaulted by people I don’t know, people I’ve never met.”
She’s right. I have no right to be angry at her. I just…I want to protect her. I feel powerless, because I didn’t know. “If you told me, I could have—”
“What, Chris? Made sure my sales didn’t go to shit?” Her tone is curt. “There’s nothing you could have done. Mike is still on the team and you’ve got to play with him. Is it better that we both tank our careers because of your son-of-a-bitch teammate who keeps deflecting from the fact that he’s a failure and complete piece of shit?”
“No. I just want to know. I have a right to know what’s happening with you.”
“Y
ou have a right to know. Seriously?” Serena’s stern tone tells me I’m about to get slammed. “Why are you making this all about yourself?”
I didn’t realize I was doing that, but I am. Because I care about Serena. Because I love her. Christ, I love her. We haven’t said the words, but I feel them. I love her with everything I am, and the fact that someone is hurting her is like a knife to the gut. Mike is shanking me by destroying Serena.
“I’m sorry. I just—”
“Just what? Don’t understand how a relationship works? See, I kept quiet because I care about you. Do you care at all about me? Because you sure as hell aren’t acting like it and until you do, I have nothing more to say. No, I take that back. I do have something else to add. You want to make this all about you? For that, I add fuck off, Chris.”
Before I can think of a retort, she hangs up on me. “Shit!” I toss my phone onto the sofa as Nick enters.
“Sounds like that went well. Way to go, Chris. Chase her away why don’t you?” His words are biting, as is his glare.
I round on him. “What the fuck do you know about it?”
He scoffs. “I’m the one she’s been calling. I’m the guy who has been helping, or at least trying to, while at the same time protecting you.”
“What I need is honesty. Your protection is the last thing I need.” That was low. Too low.
“Yeah?” Nick cocks a brow. “Remember that tomorrow. When I let you get hammered on the ice.”
He yanks his cell from my fist. I forgot I still had it. I was too busy clutching my own cell until my knuckles hurt, and talking at Serena in a way I never should have. I’m a dick. I know it. And that’s before Nick marches to my front door and slams it so hard that a statement piece made of metal rattles against the wall. I just managed to alienate the two most important people in my life in a matter of minutes. “Shit!” Instead of punching a wall, I open my laptop and begin to investigate what I’ve missed. I spend hours reading the vitriol spewed against Serena. Somewhere around nine o’clock, I realize that I’ve ruined her life and her career.
Ice Hot Page 15