Power Play Perfect (Frostwolves Hockey)

1. Caia

1

CAIA

Tension is blazing in the Frostwolves hockey arena. Everyone grips the edge of their seats, screaming from the top of their lungs as if that’ll snatch the home team a faster win and chanting “Fear the frost!” Our team’s motto.

I sit coolly in my seat, one leg crossed over the other. My eyes track only one player. He skates across the ice like he is hunting down prey— every movement of his is so natural, so fierce, like he knows that this is his rightful territory.

“Goal!”

Hanging above the center of the rink, the scoreboard changes numbers as the buzzer goes off. I rise with my sister, Harper, to cheer for the Frostwolves.

“Did you see how Blizzard scored that goal?” she asks. I cast her a sidelong glance.

“Oh? Uh, yeah, he did a good job,” I mumble.

My sister groans. “ Cade was the one who won the match, Caia, not Blizzard.”

My cheeks flush. “Oh. I get them mixed up sometimes, didn’t catch the jersey number.”

I shift so that my sister can’t see the scarlet warmth creeping up my cheeks. It’s of no use. She’s side-eying me like my nose is growing. I’ll have to spill the truth soon, whether I’m ready to or not.

“Caia, you drag me all the way to the arena and you’re telling me that you haven’t been following the game?” Harper huffs, crossing her arms. “What’s up?”

“First of all, the arena is a lovely place to spend the evening.” I avoid her piercing gaze. “And maybe I was focused on some… one .”

Harper raises an eyebrow. “And this some one is?”

I swallow a heavy breath. “Alexie Kozlov.”

As the GM’s daughters we know the players. She knows who Alexie is.

After a long stretch of silence, it seems my sister hasn’t clued in to which player I’m talking about. She has been out of the country on and off for the last four months since she fell in love in Berlin, Germany.

I motion to the ice. “Emerald green eyes? Thick Russian accent?”

She continues to stare at me blankly, and I can’t imagine she doesn’t know who he is. Being the middle child, she’s a master at torturing both our older sister and me as the youngest.

Groaning, I turn the other way. “What matters is, he plays for the Frostwolves and you already know the problem with that! General Manager’s daughters are?—”

“Off limits,” Harper finishes for me. “There is no way Dad is going to let you date one of the players he manages, sis.”

“You think I haven’t thought of that already?” I rake a frustrated hand through my wild curls. “I’m twenty-six years old. I can’t keep living my life to satisfy the Anderson name, or submit to whatever Dad’s issue is. I have my own goals and desires, too.”

“Desires? Ewww.”

It’s not like I’m twelve. I’m a grown woman. Yet, everyone treats me like the baby of the family and the players have even been known to ruffle my hair on occasion, which is completely embarrassing.

My sister doesn’t appear all that pleased by the situation, but what can I say? Alexie is smoking hot— he has the perfect smile, a jawline that could cut through diamonds, and broad shoulders that I just know give the warmest hugs. And a man with an accent, it just gets my engine purring.

My dad might be the GM of the team, but he isn’t the authority of my heart. He can blame himself for raising me to be a woman who doesn’t back down from a challenge.

“Looks like you’ve thought this through,” my sister remarks, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She flips her blonde tresses over her shoulders, their golden undertones brighter by the harsh stadium lights. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You have been hockey-player crazy since you’ve had braces on.”

She’s got a point. Something about the winter sport seems to attract the hottest guys with twinkling eyes and my eyes haven’t been able to stray to someone off the ice in a long, long, long time. As much as I tried to like guys without big sticks in their hands, I just find them… inadequate.

“I’m headed to Germany, so I won’t be around to see the chaos that’ll unfold when you tell Dad,” she continues. “And as much as I’d love to see this play out. I mean really love to see. But my ticket . My sister’s fiancé proposed at a hockey game last year, and she booked a flight to see him. “Good luck sis, but please, be careful. I don’t need to see our father in jail on the nightly news.”

And with that she walks out of the company box and I stare at the backside of the man that I just have to get to know better.

Alexie

I clench my jaw as I stride to Robert Anderson’s office. Our team calls him Wolfman, and for good reason. The man has the ability to attack with words, but then seem like he’s kind and fuzzy while doing it. Almost like you feel like you deserved the ass-chewing. I definitely am not expecting a pleasant conversation over tea behind that door.

Maybe it’ll just be a regular check-in .

But damn, I hate being called out. Being the foreign guy, I have a lot to lose.

Why couldn’t he have called my other teammates in at the same time?

This has to be some sort of torture tactic. Every second that stands between me entering that room feels like being pricked with tiny needles… everywhere.

I keep my eyes fixed on the floor. Just focus on what I need to do. Through the glossy tiles, I catch my reflection— cheeks sucked in, skin blanched paler than the rink ice and brows furrowed like I’m about to confront the toughest puzzle of my life.

I’m not ready for this.

“Looking good, Alexie.”

My eyes shoot up. I meet a midnight blue gaze across the hall. Irises that are like deep pools of mystery, framed by blonde curls that drape the woman’s face like a halo. She wears a confident smirk and flaunts a figure that is distractingly plump.

Fuck, do you have to be so beautiful… and young?

Caia, the manager’s daughter has the perfect pout on her lips.

“And I don’t just mean on the ice,” she adds with a wink.

My cheeks burn hot. She places a cupped hand on her full hips, making my eyes drop to the place where her body tucks into a tight waist, then she sashays opposite direction of where I’m going.

I pause for a moment, contemplate whether I should take in what just happened— or prioritize the fact that I’m on the clock.

My legs lurch ahead. Better to get this meeting over with.

When I open the door to the office, I see an unfamiliar face. A bearded man with beady eyes and glasses that are too large for his face clears his throat, nodding at the chairs in the corner of the room. I reluctantly take a seat.

“Pleasure to meet you, Alexie,” he says, his voice hoarse as if he is a croak away from going mute. I think to offer him a bottle of water, but remember I left my bag in the locker room. “My name is Blake Slater. I’m the team’s immigration lawyer.”

The muscles in my body tense. “I…Imm…Immigration lawyer?” I repeat with a stutter. I’m from Russia. The last time I talked to an immigration lawyer was when I was getting my papers in order to play for the Frostwolves.

For a while, at least, I hoped that’d be the last time I’d talk to one.

Blake sighs. “Your P-1 Visa is in jeopardy. We’ve found that your family has connections to the mob. Did you know this?”

“Everyone has someone in their family who is connected to the mob in Russia,” I blurt. “This isn’t news. It’s the truth.”

“We’ll do what we can, but you may be going back.” A trace of suspicion lingers in Blake’s voice— or what’s left of it, anyways.

My chest tighten like it has been yanked into a knot. I can’t go back home. Colorado is my home. The mountains, the rowdy banter of the Frostwolves fans, and the companionship of my teammates and the staff are my life now.

I love my teammates. I can’t lose them.

The news hangs over me like a gloomy cloud as I enter the locker room.

“Yo, Winter Wolf! Can’t believe Francesco snuck that goal on ‘ya!” Aidan shouts, calling me out by my team nickname. The locker room roars with laughter. I know that they expect me to counter with a diss, but I simply shrug. Everything is now a blur to me, the game, the day, all dark and lifeless. The gray and black locker paint melts into each other as I stagger to a bench.

Cade, the oldest member of the team, walks up to me. His brown eyebrows are knit in worry. No surprise that the guy known for being the wise owl of our team is the first to notice something is off. He’s always looked after us like a big brother. It makes the awful feeling in my chest worsen. I don’t want anyone to worry about me.

I’m okay.

Well, I hope to be.

He sits by my side. “What’s up, Winter Wolf?”

A simple question, yet it carries more weight than can be told. Cade doesn’t entertain the typical locker room talk. Even if I brush him off, he won’t let this go.

I’ll have to lie, not something I want to do.

“Nothing,” I say, rubbing my hands together. “Just got out of a meeting with Dr. Mitchell about my shoulder.”

I was knocked into a wall the last game against the Tucson Thunderbirds. The guys have seen that I haven’t been the same in practice, missing shots that I’d normally be able to deflect from our net.

Coach Ryan has been meaning to send me for an MRI. I’m not spitting a total lie to Cade’s face, it’s just that the talk happened before practice instead of moments ago.

Cade narrows his eyes at me, unconvinced. “You’d tell me if something was really wrong, right?”

I give a tight-lipped smile while swallowing down fears that until this day were unknown. “I’m fine.”

No, I am not.

Going back to Russia will mean losing the only family I’ve ever really known.