Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
Kaden
The Fake Shot That Scored
The camera lens feels like it’s boring a hole straight through my skull. For a guy who spends half his life in the spotlight, you’d think I’d be better at this by now. But no. I’d rather be on the ice, dodging a slapshot aimed at my face, than doing this.
Valentina sits beside me, her posture straight, her hands folded neatly in her lap, and her expression carefully neutral. Professional, composed. But I know her well enough by now to see the cracks—the way her fingers tap lightly against her knee, the way she’s biting the inside of her cheek.
She’s nervous. Probably more than I am.
Which is why I’m going to fix this. For both of us.
The reporter leans forward, her smile the kind that could cut glass. “So, Kaden, there’s been a lot of speculation about your relationship with Valentina. Care to set the record straight?”
I glance at Valentina, and for a second, the chaos fades. She’s beautiful, even when she’s pretending not to care that the world is dissecting her every move. Her hair is pulled back, her blouse crisp and perfect, and her eyes—God, those eyes—are darting between me and the reporter like she’s bracing for an explosion.
I take her hand, ignoring the way she stiffens at the unexpected gesture. “Of course,” I say, turning back to the reporter. “It’s a simple story, really. We met at a coffee shop a few days after I moved to Boston.”
Valentina’s head snaps toward me, her eyes wide.
The reporter’s interest piques immediately. “A coffee shop? How romantic. Tell us more.”
I grin, leaning back in my chair like this is the easiest thing in the world. “It was trivia night. I wasn’t even planning to go, but I ended up sitting next to her. She was wearing this ridiculously oversized scarf—looked like she’d gotten into a fight with a yarn shop and lost.”
Valentina’s lips twitch, and I know she’s fighting a smile.
“She was scribbling answers like her life depended on it, barely sparing me a glance,” I continue. “And me, being the cocky guy I am, decided to ‘help.’” I use air quotes, earning a soft chuckle from the reporter.
“And did she appreciate your help?”
“Oh, absolutely not,” I say, laughing. “She looked at me like I’d just insulted her grandmother. But she was so quick with her comebacks, so clever—it was impossible not to be drawn to her.”
Valentina’s cheeks flush, and she drops her gaze to the floor, pretending to adjust her bracelet.
“We ended up teaming up,” I add, pulling out my phone. “And, well, I actually have a picture from that night.”
I swipe through my photos until I find the one—Valentina with her trivia sheet, her tongue poking out in concentration while I’m leaning over, smirking at the camera. I hand the phone to the reporter, who coos over the image.
“This is adorable,” she says, holding the phone up for the camera crew to capture.
I shrug, playing it cool. “What can I say? She’s adorable.”
Valentina’s hand tightens around mine, and when I glance at her, there’s a faint sheen in her eyes.
“But what about the rumors that your relationship started after you hired her as your publicist?” the reporter presses.
Ah, there it is. The question we all knew was coming.
I lean forward, my tone shifting to something softer, more serious. “Let me be clear. When Valentina agreed to work with me, we made it a point to keep business and personal matters separate. She’s a consummate professional, and her reputation is important to me. But the truth is, we were already together before she became my publicist.”
The reporter’s eyes widen slightly, and the room seems to hold its breath.
“We kept our relationship private for a while because, well, it was new, and we wanted to focus on each other without the noise,” I say, my gaze drifting to Valentina. “And honestly? It was the best decision we could’ve made. Being with her has been the most grounding experience of my life.”
Valentina’s eyes glisten, and she swallows hard, her grip on my hand trembling just slightly.
“Look,” I say, turning back to the reporter, “people are going to talk. That’s fine. But what Val and I have is real. She’s not just my publicist. She’s my partner. My best friend. The person who makes me want to be better, on and off the ice.”
The reporter smiles, clearly charmed. “That’s beautiful, Kaden. Do you have anything to add, Valentina?”
Valentina looks at me, her eyes wide and shimmering, then back at the reporter. “I . . . I think Kaden just said it all,” she says, her voice trembling.
The reporter beams, clearly basking in the story like it’s the juiciest thing since their last scoop. “Well, there you have it, folks. A love story for the ages.”
The cameras cut, and Valentina lets out a shaky laugh, half-disbelieving, half-horrified. “What the hell was that?”
I grin, stepping closer and pulling her into a quick, one-armed hug. “Damage control. And maybe a little showing off.”
“You’re unbelievable. This wasn’t the plan.”
“Yeah,” I say, leaning in until my lips are close to her ear, my voice low. “I went rogue, and it worked out even better, don’t you think?”
She pulls back just enough to glare up at me. “How did you even get that picture of us?”
“Oh, the picture?” I shrug, all casual, like it’s no big deal. “That was easy. Jacob’s brother has access to the CCTV—something about security and blah blah. I tuned out most of it, but the point is, he snagged a few nice shots of us. You know, our first date and all.”
“That wasn’t our first date,” she snaps, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Well, I plan to tell our children it was,” I reply with a smirk.
Her jaw drops. “Children? You want to have children with me?”
I reach for her, pulling her into a full hug this time, my arms wrapping tightly around her like she belongs there. “I want a life with you, Val,” I say, my voice softer now but no less firm. “Children. A messy house. Waking up to you stealing the covers. The whole damn forever package.”
Her breath hitches, and I can feel her hesitation. But I press on, knowing I need to put it all out there. “You’re like a power play in the third period, Val. A game-changer. I’ve spent my whole life focused on the ice, on winning, but with you? You’re the goal I didn’t even know I was shooting for.”
She looks up at me, her eyes glistening, and for a moment, I think she’s going to cry. But instead, she does what I least expect—she laughs. It’s light, breathless, and completely, maddeningly her.
“You drive me crazy, Kaden,” she says, her hands resting on my chest. “Half the time, I want to strangle you, and the other half, I can’t imagine life without you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That sounds to me like love.”
“It is,” she says softly, her cheeks flushing. “I love you. Even when you’re infuriating, even when you go rogue and make me want to throw something at your stupid, smug face.”
I grin, leaning down until our foreheads touch. “Good. Because I love you, too, Val. Even when you’re bossy and make me wear ties for interviews.”
Her laugh bubbles up again, and I swear it’s the best sound in the world.
“Does this mean I can go rogue more often?” I tease.
“Don’t push it, Crawford,” she says, pulling me closer.
But as she kisses me, soft and sure, the world shifts. It’s not fireworks or some over-the-top movie moment; it’s quieter, deeper. Her lips fit against mine like they’ve always belonged there, like the rest of my life was just waiting for this exact moment.
Her hands slide up to my shoulders, her touch warm and steady, grounding me in a way I didn’t know I needed. I let myself sink into it, into her. My arms tighten around her waist, pulling her flush against me, like if I hold her close enough, I can somehow keep this feeling forever.
She sighs against my lips, and it’s soft and breathless, the kind of sound that makes a guy’s chest ache in the best possible way. Her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt, and every nerve in my body feels like it’s on high alert, completely attuned to her.
This isn’t just a kiss. It’s a promise.
A promise that I’m not letting go. Not now, not ever.
I pull back just enough to look at her, my forehead resting against hers as I try to catch my breath. Her eyes flutter open, and the way she looks at me—like I’m more than the sum of my fuck-ups, like I’m someone worth sticking around for—hits me square in the chest.
“Val,” I murmur, my voice low and rough, “I wasn’t kidding about forever.”
Her lips quirk into a small smile, her hands still clutching my shirt. “Good,” she whispers, her voice just as unsteady as mine. “Because I wasn’t kidding when I said I love you, even when you’re impossible.”
I chuckle, brushing my thumb against her cheek. “Impossible, huh? Guess I’ll have to work on that.”
“Don’t,” she says, her smile widening. “I kind of love you just the way you are.”
And right there, in her arms, I know.
Forever isn’t some vague, far-off dream. It’s her. It’s this. It’s us. And for once in my messy, complicated life, I’m absolutely sure of it.
With her, I don’t need to fake the shot—I just need to take it. And this time, I know I’m going to score.