28. Ariella
TWENTY-EIGHT
ARIELLA
THE CARDS SAY, YOU SHOULD FIGHT YOUR FATHER.
What the fuck was I doing?
I’d been in my office for the last hour, attempting to finalize athlete profiles. Ice practices were already ramping up, and I liked to tailor my programs to emphasize athlete recovery while still building strength.
Hockey season was grueling on the body. Not only the game itself, but the schedule. Throw in potential injuries…all the planning on what I could do to prepare my players kept me busy. Problem was, work wasn’t the only thing occupying my mind this Thursday evening.
Dalton and I had spent all day Saturday together, and then I’d avoided him like the plague on Sunday because I still had no damn clue how to sort out my feelings about him or whatever it was we were supposed to be.
Why face your emotions and work through things when you could ignore them and pretend there weren’t Dalton-sized holes starting to form in the wall you’d built around your heart?
I could only patch them up so quickly.
Hot asshole? That I could walk away from easily.
But an attentive man who seemed to know me like the back of his hand? Fuck, that was harder to keep at bay.
Even after my radio silence, he’d still showed up Monday morning, leaning against Betty’s pale blue body with a coffee and a smile. A smile that quickly turned into a frown when he saw that my breakfast was a protein bar.
Then Tuesday, and every day after, he was waiting with a breakfast burrito in hand, purchased from the spot I’d taken him to that first night.
It wasn’t just him showing up, though. The man managed to touch me every chance he got when we were together, almost like he was making sure I was still there. A hand at my lower back, his arm brushing mine, even his fingers grazing any bare skin they could find.
I shook off the thoughts, trying to focus back on the notes. Lost in the quiet, I didn’t even notice someone standing at my office door until a smooth voice cut through my concentration.
“Ms. Contreras, hard at work, I see.”
I glanced up to find Vincent Langley leaning against the doorframe. I was struck by how different he was from his son. Sure, there were similarities, looks-wise, between him and Dalton, but the dead-eyed smile he gave me made them look worlds different. Thanks to Gracie’s FBI-level deep-dive research on the man, I’d seen his photos online, but meeting him in person had me instinctively straightening in my seat, slipping into full professionalism mode.
“Mr. Langley,” I replied, standing and extending a hand. “So nice to meet you. And yes, there’s a lot to prepare before the preseason ramps up. ”
He strode in, glancing around my office with a gaze that felt too assessing, too sharp. I clocked the power move right away when he made me wait there with my arm extended, taking his time to accept the gesture. It took everything in me not to roll my eyes and to keep the polite smile plastered on my face when he wrapped his hand around mine, squeezing it as if we were doing a grip strength test.
I was a fan of a firm shake as much as the next person, but at some point you were overcompensating for something if you felt the need to squeeze the shit out of the other person’s hand.
His jaw ticked when I didn’t react or relent, but he let go, and I sat back down.
You’re trying to keep your job, not lose it faster, Ari.
“I can see why Dalton’s been talking so much about you. Very dedicated. Committed.” The words were complimentary, but something about them felt like a hidden barb. “Not many people around here put in the same level of work ethic. It's refreshing to see.”
I kept my expression neutral, but a prickle of unease crawled up my spine. Dalton never spoke poorly of his father, and the rest of the team didn’t speak about Mr. Langley period, so I had no reason to have my guard up. Still, the unease was there, and I knew better than to ignore my intuition.
Something told me Vincent Langley didn’t make casual visits to employees’ offices. I’d been here three weeks, and he hadn’t once bothered to meet me. For days, I’d expected to be called into his office after the HR incident, or at the very least after the news spread of Dalton and I dating, but nada . Yet here he was now?
“Thank you. My priority is that the team has the best support possible off the ice so they can perform on the ice as needed.”
“Oh, absolutely,” he agreed, leaning on the edge of my desk in a way that felt too close. “It’s admirable, really. You remind me of myself, determined to get things done right.” I nearly suffocated under the charisma he had dialed up as he peered down at me.
What the hell was going on?
“Thank you, sir. I’m honored to be a part of the Desperados organization and to showcase what I can bring to the team.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, a cunning glint in his eyes. This was a man who wanted something, and now I was thoroughly on the defensive. “You know, I wasn’t sure, but I think it could be a good thing Dalton’s taken to you so well.” He chuckled as if it were an inside joke. “He could benefit from someone reminding him what hard work and focus looks like.”
I felt my spine straighten involuntarily at the backhanded compliment, trying to keep my face as impassive as possible. Was he testing me to see if I’d say anything about how he spoke about his son? Or was he just a dick?
Probably both.
“All due respect, Mr. Langley, but I don’t think he needs any reminders from me. Dalton is one of the hardest-working people I’ve coached. He’s a natural leader, and his dedication is inspiring. You should be proud.” There was a little more edge to the last part of my sentence than I’d meant, so I slapped on my sweetest smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Because while his comment rubbed me the wrong way, this man still held my career’s fate in his hands.
His eyes narrowed, the pleasant mask cracking briefly before it was back in place as if nothing happened. The chuckle he let out was so fake it was pathetic. “Of course. I only meant that Dalton has always been…well, susceptible to certain distractions, and I trust that you would want what’s best for him and the team. You know how relationships can complicate things…” the words trailed off.
Maybe I’d been reading too many mafia books, because something about the way he spoke made me feel like I was being threatened.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Langley. Our relationship won’t get in the way of our careers.”
He nodded but didn’t look satisfied with my response. “That can be a difficult thing to balance. Emma managed to do a wonderful job. She was…quite the woman. You know all about Dalton and Emma, right?”
Heat crawled up my neck. Dalton’s dad was definitely a dick.
My jaw worked overtime to keep my mouth shut so I didn’t tell him what an asshole move it was to bring his son’s ex up. Not that he needed to hear it—he knew what he was doing. The smug look on his face shown like a neon sign reading “guilty.”
“Yes, we’ve met, actually. Gave her eyesight advice.”
“She was perfect for him,” he continued, like I hadn’t spoken. “Emma understood the world of hockey, as a successful sports reporter. Was always there in the stands, proudly wearing his jersey. Knew exactly how to carry herself in front of the media, of course. Tall, beautiful girl. Made him look good.”
He glanced at me, gauging my reaction. But if he was hoping to find tears in my eyes thanks to his cutting words, he had the wrong bitch.
“Wow, sounds like she must have really messed up to make your son not want to be with someone so perfect, ” I said, flipping him off from under the desk.
He cleared his throat, clearly caught off guard by the fact that I wasn’t curled in on myself, feeling inadequate. Part of me wanted to know what he’d been planning to say if I’d melted into a puddle of self-consciousness. No wonder he liked Emma so much—they were two peas in a pod with how they treated people.
“Yes, well, I only bring this up because the media loves her. She’s one of their own. Everyone loved seeing Emma and Dalton together, and they’re bound to compare you two when they see you tomorrow.”
Bullshit. He was bringing up my boyfriend’s ex in some gracious act of warning ? Unlikely.
“Thank you for the heads-up, Mr. Langley,” I said, voice cool and unwavering. “But I’m confident I can handle any comparisons. As a woman in a male-dominated field, I’ve learned to grow a thick skin and be confident in what I can do, rather than worrying about what someone else is doing. And, quite frankly, the only person I care about preferring me is Dalton.”
His smile froze for a beat before he nodded, the collected facade slipping. “G…good. I like to hear that. If yo u need resources or additional support, just let me know. We take care of our own here.”
“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied smoothly, though his offer felt like it came with strings attached.
“I’ll be around for Media Day, of course,” he said, adjusting his suit jacket. “I look forward to seeing how you and Dalton handle yourselves. You’re part of the Desperados family now, Ms. Contreras. I trust you’ll represent us well.”
Standing, I nodded to him, not chancing another of his handshakes. “Absolutely.”
I held his gaze as he gave me a final assessing look before striding out.
Silence settled back into the office, and I let out a breath, feeling like I could finally think straight.
The audacity of that man to bring up Dalton’s ex.
The entire interaction felt like he was testing for weaknesses to exploit. If he thought I’d crumble at the mention of a tall blonde who treated people like shit, he had no idea who he was dealing with.
Fuck, I need to lift some shit.