33. Ice Girl
33
ICE GIRL
RORY
A fter our “successful” lunch with the Italians, my father reluctantly agreed to allow me to resume my normal schedule once Niko offered to stand in as my guard. That is, until father can choose a replacement for Alexei.
I’m not sure why Niko volunteered. But as I steal a glance at my brother lounging in the stands above, feasting on popcorn from the Chill Zone, I’m sure it was to get out of some other Bratva duty he just didn’t want to do.
The topic only came up after Matteo offered to assume responsibility for my guard until the wedding, but neither my father nor my brother seemed to care for that idea very much and politely declined.
Today, it’s back to the drawing board on my plans to avoid this arranged marriage. I only have about three thousand dollars saved up in cash tips from the Chill Zone. All of it hidden inside a hollowed-out book on my bedroom shelves. It’s not enough money to run on... I was supposed to have another year.
A surge of anger leads me to bobble the landing of another jump, and Karina’s sharp reprimand bounces off my mind. I ease back into the zone, but once again, my mind drifts, this time to my mother.
My mom did everything in her power to keep me away from this life. From this fate. Before I was even born, she convinced my father that for my safety, we should live separately. In different houses, different states, different countries .
Things haven’t been the same since her death. I miss her so much. And I hate that things were tense between us, at the end. We’d been fighting a lot. She’d stay up worrying about me if I missed curfew, tried to keep me close to home… I’d thought it was because I was leaving for college soon, which confused me, seeing as how she’d always pushed so hard for me to apply to college and for scholarships to pay for it. Colleges far away from Vancouver and even further from Boston.
But I knew my father had begun to have other ideas about what was next for my future. I had overheard heated conversations between my parents on one of his brief visits just before Nationals last year.
Anonymity was my protection. I lived under a fake name, with fake friends and a fake life. Only facing the horrors of my real life a few times a year when holidays or events forced us back to Boston.
But Niko... This hell was his everyday reality. And he seemed to blame me for it. Raised by the Russian Lion, he was a loose cannon himself, bloodthirsty and chaotic. And he utterly despised me. The little sister from his father’s mistress, an insult to his mother. Niko made sure to be unnecessarily cruel at every opportunity.
And as a result, I did everything I could to stay far away from that house—from Boston.
But when my mother died, so did her protection.
I enter my scratch spin and let the world blur around me, blur out the thoughts clouding my mind. Spinning faster and faster… controlled chaos.
My father promised— He promised . As long as I was skating competitively, I was supposed to be left alone. Safe from the constraints of an arranged marriage.
He lied. And I was the idiot who believed him.
I only just realized there was never any escaping my fate. It was always to be this way. My only value in this world was as a pawn in the bloody games of men.
I slam my toe pick into the ice, ending the spin with an abrupt stop. Lifting my chin, I skate back to the bench where Karina watches in silence. Uncapping my water bottle, I take a deep drink.
“It was better. Still needs work, but... better,” Karina frowns.
I nod in acknowledgement. Coming from Karina… that’s just short of a glowing review. I still feel her eyes on me and brace myself, knowing something else is brewing behind that contemplative look in her Russian blues.
“Qualifiers are in three weeks’ time. You still very rough on the edges. Injury and all…” Her fingers dance around her head and I narrow my eyes. Besides that one hiccup before I was kidnapped, I haven’t had any episodes. The concussion symptoms seem to finally be fading away. “You have not performed in over a year,” Karina shakes her head, clicking her tongue. “This is no good. So—” she looks at me, a devious smile in her aging eyes, “—I have taken liberty to sign you up for Belles.”
My mouth just about falls open. This has to be a joke. “The Belles ?” I repeat, hoping I heard her wrong or something got lost in translation.
She nods, pleased with herself, “Yes, the Belles… skate club.”
I know who they are. I shake my head. “I can’t skate with the Belles, I don’t have time!” I protest, thinking of any and all excuses I can use to get me out of this. “Training is more important.”
Karina purses her lips, looking me up and down. “You know routine. Routine is not problem… Confidence is problem. You need to learn to perform again. Smile again…”
I feel my cheeks heat at her assessment. I continue to shake my head no, but Karina is not having it. “No discussion. You skate with Belles or you don’t skate in qualifiers. Understand?”
Fuck.
The Boston Belles were like hockey cheerleaders—ice girls for the Boston Breakers. Responsible for hyping up the crowd during home games and promo events. Smiley… pretty… cheerleaders…. Next to marrying Matteo, it’s probably the last thing I want to do with my time.
Karina takes my silence as my agreement and gives me a sharp nod of approval before gathering up her things, since we’ve reached the end of our ice time.
“Excellent. You start tomorrow.”
Wait, what?