Chapter 22
Central Park West
Sofie
I arrive late.
James drops me at the curb. Inside, the space opens up immediately. Wide halls. Tall ceilings. Sound softened by rugs thick enough to lose shoes in.
The media room is tucked deep inside, insulated from the rest of the house like a bunker built for comfort. That’s where they are, all four of them.
The game lights the room in blue and white, and the sound is just loud enough to feel like the rink without overwhelming conversation. A sectional big enough to qualify as furniture infrastructure curves around the screen.
Noelle is curled into one corner, knees tucked up, wrapped in a sweater that definitely belongs to Dash and will pretend it’s about warmth, but I know better. She misses him, even if it’s been less than twenty-four hours. I know this because I miss Aleks too.
Nalani is cross-legged on the floor, back against the couch, hand on a bump that she thinks is obvious, and we let her believe we see it too, because she’s so excited to be carrying the love of her life’s child.
Claudia sits nearby, relaxed in a way that always looks effortless. Savannah is sprawled across her lap like she owns the place, one socked foot dangling. The ultimate weighted blanket and a tether to the reality that nothing, absolutely nothing, is more important than love.
Paul is perched in a recliner next to them, and God, how I love that grumpy old asshole.
They all look up when I step in.
“You made it,” Noelle says softly, already shifting to make space.
“I did, and before puck drop,” I smile as I walk over and sit between Noelle and Claudia on the couch, knees brushing Nalani’s shoulder. She leans into it without thinking. I look at Claudia, “Paul should tell them the story, I love his stories.”
“Story time,” Noelle claps.
Nalani looks up at me, cringing, “You gave him details about you and Aleks before —”
I palm her whole freaking adorable face, “What is wrong with you!”
“So, AK finally made his move,” Paul chuckles.
“No,” I shake my head. “You do not get to talk about me like that, especially now.”
He laughs, the whole belly kind, and Savannah mimics him, which of course makes us all laugh.
Then Paul holds up his hand, and we all go quiet, even Savannah. “A history lesson, about the hen house and how one hen, and two little chicks, are responsible for this whole thing.”
“Before you start, remember puck drop is in like thirty minutes,” I remind him.
The story he tells is beautiful, a complete full circle, and my father, our father?
He didn’t flesh that out as he had before.
I assume Claudia had spoken to him about what Dad told her, and Paul, he’s clearly giving him grace, which he deserves since Marcy had lied to him, but Paul also has every right to be angry, for the hurt it caused his Patsy and him too.
The girls freaked the hell out, as expected. Nalani and Noelle kept looking for and finding physical attributes that we shared, that they should have never missed, which is insane, but they have fun with it. We have the same eye shape, so does Savannah, all the same as Dad.
Paul sits down beside me, and clamps his big paw on my knee. “So, you’re a big deal now, huh?”
“Oh, please, I’ve always been a big deal.”
“Sassy ass.” He chuckles.
“Always been that too,” I grin.
He takes my hand and holds it up, gripping my little finger, “And you wrap fool’s hearts around this the minute you let them in.” He winks. “You have to be careful with a weapon like that. You end up leaving a string of broken hearts behind you.”
“I’m not going to break his heart.” I shake my head.
“Wasn’t talking about AK, you and he are solid. I’m talking about Matteo. That man loves you enough to come knocking and bring me receipts, to mend fences for you. You gotta let him off that hook, Sassy. He loves you, too.”
My eyes heat up, “He lied to me.”
“Nah, he just didn’t tell you stories, like I do.” He nods to Claudia, “he was missing a chapter.”
“Does that mean you and Dad can maybe be civil?”
He scrubs a hand over his face, “For you and my little chicks, I can.”
He smirks and shakes his head, “Spill it.”
“He remembers me when he’s in a different place in his life; he’s going to hate me.”
“And that makes you … happy?”
“Wouldn’t say happy, just, Karma you know?”
“I hate that I understand that, feels like I’m betraying him, and saying that to you makes me feel like I’m betraying you.”
“Promise me something?” he asks, and I nod. “Don’t ever think I feel betrayed by you. You didn’t ask for any of it,” he sighs heavily. “None of us did, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.”
I shouldn’t be watching this game the way I am.
Chicago flashes blue across the screen, Aleks cutting through the ice like he owns it, and all I can think about is the way his body felt against mine last night. His weight, his heat. The way sleep came easy once his arm settled around my waist like that was where it had always belonged.
My thighs press together, and I shift, immediately annoyed with myself.
Focus.
I reach for my tablet and busy myself. Emails first. Numbers. Contracts. Employee files. Something solid. Something boring.
It doesn’t help.
Because his messages are still there, stacked neatly in a thread I shouldn’t open and re-re-re-read, but absolutely do.
Aleks:
Landed.
Aleks:
Miss you already.
Aleks:
Smells like you on my hoodie. Don’t tell me that’s weird.
Aleks:
I need to taste you again, your mouth, your skin, your stunning cunt.
Aleks:
Daily.
Aleks:
Missionary and the best sex of my life, Tsaritsa moya?
Aleks:
I want your pussy wrapped around my cock every moment I’m not on the ice. How will that work IRL?
Aleks:
Last night was… yeah.
My chest aches, sharp and sweet all at once. I picture him in that hotel bed, alone, and seriously consider taking a red eye, but they will be back tomorrow morning.
I swallow and lock the screen.
Do not squirm in a house full of women who know exactly what that look means.
I refocus on the game. Aleks is on the ice again, shoulders loose, stride confident. He looks unreal tonight. Dangerous in that controlled way that should be illegal.
Nalani shifts beside me. Claudia murmurs something about spacing. Savannah cheers.
And then I feel it. That tightening. The air changing, the way everyone stills half a beat before the sound catches up.
I palm my face. “Don’t,” I murmur, mostly to myself.
The commentator’s voice jumps, sharp and excited. “Kilovac is throwing hands again!”
Noelle swears under her breath. Not surprised at all, just resigned.
On screen, Aleks drops the gloves like it was always coming. Jaw set in that way, I recognize immediately, and others will see this as Killer being Killer, but I know that someone crossed a line.
Nalani leans forward, eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t spontaneous. Someone said something.”
Of course they did.
I watch through my fingers because I always do. Aleks moves like this is calculation, not rage. He takes a hit and barely reacts. Blood blooms at the corner of his mouth, and he doesn’t wipe it away.
Claudia exhales slowly. “He’s protecting something.”
“Or someone,” Noelle adds softly.
I drop my hand and look fully now. My heart is racing for an entirely different reason than it was two minutes ago.
I hate that I know this version of him so well. The one that shows up when fairness snaps. He protects and fights for what is right, even when that fight is deemed wrong.
The refs finally pull them apart. Gloves scattered on the ice. Aleks breathing hard, eyes still locked on the other guy like he’s memorizing him. He says something to Aleks and—
“Oh my God, did he just—”
“Sure did,” Paul laughs. “Sassy, you need to teach him to shit talk so he uses his fists less.”
“And spit?” Nalani shakes her head. “Did I see that right? Did he just—”
“He did,” I confirm. “He spit in his face.”
The commentator keeps talking. Fines. Suspensions. “A pattern.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh, “Pattern?”
Noelle glances at me. “You okay?”
I nod automatically. “Yeah. He’ll be fine.”
On screen, he skates to the box, blood drying, expression unreadable.
“Totally using Billionairess and the Beast as a future title,” Noelle says, tapping it into her phone.
“Kid needs some PR training,” Paul says to me.
“I don’t want him edited, I want him just like he is, perfect.”
“Holy shit, she’s in love,” Nalani states, like it’s true.
“Never been in love before, but if this is what it is, then I’ll take it.”
I feel my body being lifted and open my eyes, “What are you–“
“Shh, you’ll wake them,” he says as he moves through the house carrying me, freaking carrying me to the entrance.
I pinch him, and he scowls down at me, “What was that for?”
“I wanted to be sure this wasn’t a dream, and I’m not pinching myself.” I squirm, but his hold is firm. “It’s a sleepover, I can’t just leave.”
“It’s three in the morning, you slept over,” he says, passing James, who is holding the door open. “Now you go with me.”
“You’re supposed to be in Chicago.”
“Flew out after the game.”
“Are you insane?” I yawn.
“Debatable. Would it matter?” he asks as he opens the door to his vehicle and places me in it, buckles my seat belt, and… why is this totally okay with me? “Well, would it?”
“You’re not.”
“I am,” he closes the door and rounds the front of his vehicle in a flash, he slides in, starts his vehicle, and throws it in gear as he says, “And it’s your fucking fault.”
“My fault?” I try to joke, but my heart is beating a mile a minute, heat is pooling where heat now pools at just the thought of him as he pulls out onto the street.
“Your smart mouth, the smell of you, now the taste of your pussy on my tongue, all make it so I don’t give a fuck about anything else. So yes, it’s your fault.”
I unbuckle my seat belt and move to lean over the console and kiss him. He growls, “What are you doing?”
“Kissing you.” And I do.