Chapter 18
CAYDEN
I watch Parker’s expression as Henry steers the heavy Bentley down the steep concrete ramp into the arena's underground VIP garage. Bright fluorescent lights fly past as blurred white streaks over the shimmering paint of the hood.
The boy is shifting restlessly on the soft leather of the backseat. He tugs at the collar of his blue jersey and stares fascinated at the massive support pillars of the garage as we glide past.
Jade is sitting right next to him. She’s wearing a simple black blazer over a fine silk top. Even though she was originally against this trip, she looks curious about what will happen tonight.
The car rolls smoothly to a stop in the restricted entrance area. Leon, the massive security shift lead, steps to my door and pulls it open with a fluid motion. The muffled roar of ten thousand people in the hall above translates even down here as a permanent hum in the floor.
"Good evening, Boss," Leon greets me, adjusting the collar of his uniform. "Sharp suit today."
I step out and button my jacket. "Thanks, Leon. How’s the left knee? Has the physical therapy finally kicked in after that ligament strain last week?"
A grin spreads across his face as he tests the leg. "Much better. Give the team doctor my thanks. The man has healing hands."
"Will do. Don’t let too many sponsors into the box at once later; I need a little breathing room tonight."
I wait for Jade and Parker to climb out of the car and nod to Rita as she passes.
She is lugging a metal rolling cart full of catering boxes toward the large service elevators.
"Rita, your son has his final college entrance exam on Monday, right? Cross your fingers for him from me. He’s been preparing for it long enough. "
The older woman stops mid-motion and beams. "I’ll tell him, Mr. Miller. He’s been worrying himself sick over it."
"He’ll crush it," I say, turning toward the passenger elevator.
We enter the spacious elevator, and Parker immediately asks, "Which floor?"
"Press three," I reply as the doors close behind us.
Once at the top, the doors slide open silently, revealing the Diamond Club.
The room is gargantuan—an open landscape of heavy leather armchairs, endless glass fronts, and a free-standing bar almost sagging under the weight of countless crystal bottles.
Adjacent is the restaurant area, where the first investors and board members are already leaning over their plates in the dimmed light.
The air is humming, charged with the scent of expensive perfumes, the clinking of silver cutlery, and the inevitable, greedy expectation of victory.
Jade instinctively pulls Parker half a step behind her. She scans the massive room like a guard dog scenting a threat at every corner, wanting to stand protectively in front of her pup.
I step close to her and place my hand flat on her lower back. It’s only a fleeting contact, but she flinches instantly, as if I’d brushed her with an open flame. "We’re going to the very front. We’ll have some peace from the other suits there, and Parker will have the best view."
We head for a secluded alcove right at the massive panoramic window.
Below us, the vast white ice surface stretches out.
The stands are filling rapidly; a deafening noise erupts as the first players skate out of the tunnel for warm-ups.
The vibrations of the crowd climb up the glass.
Parker presses his nose almost against the cool pane, completely captivated by the imposing speed of the athletes.
"So this is where you’re hiding our most important guest of the month," a loud, amused voice cuts through the noise.
Alex maneuvers skillfully past two sponsors and plants himself at our table. He wears a gray blazer, a winning smile, and the unshakable ease of a man who finds the right words in any situation. He reaches out to shake Jade’s hand before I can even open my mouth.
"Alex Mercer. We handled the paperwork together. It’s an honor to meet the woman who is finally forcing Cayden to communicate like a normal human being again."
Jade takes his hand. A genuine, completely relaxed smirk steals onto her lips, which gives me an immediate, sharp, uncontrolled sting in my chest. "Jade Sterling. And believe me, the communication has been extremely sluggish so far."
"That’s because of his stubborn head," Alex laughs loudly, dropping uninvited into the empty chair next to Parker.
"You just have to push back. Once he realizes he’s not getting anywhere with that growling tone, he becomes house-trained.
And you must be Parker, right? I heard you analyze our defense better than the head coach. "
Parker tears his gaze away from the window, beaming and nodding eagerly.
I lean back into the soft upholstery and watch the scene.
The crushing tension of the last twenty-four hours evaporates with every passing minute that Alex floods the room with his endless, natural charm.
Jade is breathing noticeably deeper, her shoulders drop, and for the first time today, I don’t see the biting journalist, but the woman who held the glass of red wine in my library last night and trembled under my hands.
"We can officially scrap the formal 'Mr.' and 'Miss' from our vocabulary right now," Alex throws into the mix, sliding the leather drink menu across the glass table. "I’m Alex. You’re Jade. And that guy over there is the one who pays the bills for all this fun. Agreed?"
"Agreed," she says, looking at me pointedly.
The referee drops the puck below, and the arena shakes.
A physical jolt goes through the ten thousand people in the stands, a collective energy that makes the air crackle.
From that moment on, the sponsors in the background no longer exist for me.
I tune out the busy laughter at the bar and concentrate entirely on the action below us.
To my surprise, Parker discusses every play on eye-level with me.
"The Vipers are closing the left flank extremely tight," he shouts over the crowd noise, pointing at the opposing team's formation. "If our number nine plays the pass a moment earlier, they’ll bypass the defense completely."
"That’s exactly the flaw in the system," I agree, leaning in next to him and following the players' setup. I don’t talk to him like a child, but like one of my scouts. "The Vipers expect us to come through the middle. If we delay the rhythm, a massive gap opens up right at the blue line."
Less than two minutes later, the first goal for the Royals is scored.
The puck slams unstoppably into the net.
The siren wails deafeningly; the red light behind the goal flickers hysterically.
Parker throws his arms up, cheering at the top of his lungs.
I clap him on the shoulder, a completely impulsive, instinctive reflex I can’t hold back in that second.
The hard muscle under his jersey tenses; he laughs at me, and for a moment, I simply share the pure enthusiasm of this boy.
When I turn my head, I catch Jade’s gaze.
She has barely followed the game in the last few minutes.
She is watching us. A soft, infinitely warm glow lies in her blue eyes that hits me with the force of a targeted blow to the gut.
In this moment, the armed reporter disappears completely.
She lets her hard guard down, and what emerges beneath it almost takes my breath away.
It is an unprotected mix of affection and a deep, painful yearning that I can’t place.
The game ends five-to-two for us. A dominant, unchallenged victory that brings the mood in the entire lounge to a boil. Alex immediately orders another round of Gin and Tonics for our table. We toast, and this time, she doesn't just sip politely. She drains the glass in one go.
When we make our way down to the garage an hour later, the evening's adrenaline rush has given way to a cozy warmth. The drive back to Westmount passes in a pleasant silence. Parker falls fast asleep on the back seat after exactly three minutes. His head rests on Jade’s shoulder, his mouth slightly open, breathing deeply into the fabric of her blazer.
The Bentley glides steadily over the wet streets of Montreal. I sit diagonally opposite them and simply cannot tear my gaze away from Jade’s face.
She has kicked off her shoes and pulled her legs up slightly on the soft leather upholstery. The stern, professional journalist has vanished somewhere between the third Gin and Tonic and the fourth Royals goal. Her lids are heavy; a soft, relaxed smirk lies on her lips.
The car takes a long curve. Jade’s knee slips and brushes gently against mine.
This morning at the breakfast table, she would have recoiled instantly, apologized, and pressed herself as close to the car door as physically possible.
Now, she stays exactly like that. She doesn't pull her leg back.
The heat of her body burns through the fine fabric of my suit trousers directly into my nerves.
My hand lies flat on the leather of the seat, and her fingertips almost imperceptibly brush my knuckles. A low, electric flicker that makes my blood boil. I slowly turn my hand over and let my pinky finger brush against hers. She takes an audible, deep breath, but she doesn't pull her hand away.
Henry brings the car to a gentle stop in front of the villa’s large portal. The engine falls silent.
"It’s okay, Henry," I mutter as he goes to open the door from the outside. I push the handle down myself, step out, and move to Jade’s side. I lean deep into the car; the scent of her perfume and the slight hint of alcohol mix into a cocktail that completely steals my senses. "I’ve got him."
Jade nods silently and slides to the side. I slide my arms under Parker’s knees and back. He mutters something unintelligible, rolls his head instinctively against my chest, and stays asleep.
We enter the house, and Jade walks barefoot beside me up the wide staircase to the east wing, her steps completely silent on the carpet.
I carry Parker into his room and lay him carefully on the mattress. Jade steps beside me, gently pulls the jersey over his head, drapes a blanket over him, and tucks the pillow. Her hand lingers a moment longer on his cheek—a tender, unconditional expression of love that makes me hold my breath.
We step back out into the hallway, and Jade clicks the door shut quietly.
Then she turns to me. Her cheeks are still slightly flushed from the alcohol; her chest rises and falls a little too fast. She looks at me, and there is no guard left.
No excuses, no notebooks, no protective distance.
There is only this smoldering, unprotected desire that has been driving us crazy in the car all evening.
"Cayden," she whispers. Her warm breath brushes my chin—a mixture of warning and total surrender.
I don't give her a chance to formulate another excuse. I lean forward, slide one arm under her knees and the other firmly around her back, and lift her up.
She gasps softly. The surprise makes her freeze for a second before her arms wrap instinctively around my neck for support. Her soft curves press against my chest.
"What are you doing?" she breathes, but there isn't a hint of real resistance in her voice. Her fingers bury themselves deep in the hair at the nape of my neck.
"I’m finishing exactly what we started in the library last night," I growl against her warm skin.
I turn around and carry her down the long hallway. Away from the guest wing, past the silent portraits on the walls, straight toward the massive double doors of my own bedroom. And this time, I’m certainly not letting her run away from me again.