Chapter 24-Daniela
The Major League Rugby Southern States Winter Tournament is chaos in cleats.
We followed the team bus down, me riding with Finley in one of the branded campers while Tank and Koa took the charter with the rest of the players to get their heads in the game.
The venue is packed, the crowd already buzzing with pre-match excitement as the Carolina Rovers prepare to take on the Houston Longhorns.
Finley’s in full PR mode, bouncing between checklists and soundbite scripts while I try not to fidget too obviously in my seat.
This is my first big event as part of the Rovers’ staff, and now that #SnowedInWithARover is trending, the eyes on me? They're not just metaphorical anymore.
They are everywhere.
I hear whispers. Folks wondering who I am and what I did to bag the Rovers’ original bad boy.
I ignore them. I don’t let them get to me.
I’m even dressed professionally, if a little too warm for Texas in December.
But nerves are a hell of a thermostat.
My stomach twists when Finley pulls me aside after we finish setting up the social media booth near the players’ lounge.
“Ellie Vance is here,” she says in a low voice.
“Okay.”
“So, you know she’s here to cover the tourney, but she definitely wants you ready to get that little ‘human interest’ feature on the Rovers down first. Her assistant sent me some points to go over with you, but it’s just stuff highlighting the team’s brand and the thinking behind the social strategy that’s got us trending top five in sports this week, and what she sent looks professional enough. So, are you ready?”
My stomach drops.
“Yeah. Yes. Um, I mean, sure. Tank and I talked, and as long as she, I mean, Ellie Vance agrees to keep it light and stays on topic, then it should be fine.”
Finley nods and gives me a tight smile. I get it. Her whole career is banking on how well the PR team does for the Rovers, and to have a reporter like Ellie Vance giving it some airtime?
Well, that’s a pretty big deal.
“Okay. And it’s okay to be nervous, Dani, believe me I know. Ellie can be a bit sharp.”
That’s one way to put it. I mean, I’ve seen her shows.
Still, I nod.
I’ve handled worse.
I survived college with a sexist department head and made a name for myself in sports media as a fat girl with a clipboard. I can do this.
I take a deep breath and smile when Ellie saunters up in designer heels and a microphone she clearly thinks is a wand.
“Well, well,” she purrs, flashing too-white teeth. “Daniela McNally. Mind if I ask you a few questions for our behind-the-scenes feature Romancing the Rovers?”
Finley nods stiffly beside me, but I step forward.
“Sure. Happy to.”
The camera starts rolling.
At first, it’s harmless.
A couple of questions about logistics and brand engagement.
Then—her features sharpen in a way that reminds me of a shark. Or a head cheerleader from a high school mean-girl clique.
“So,” Ellie says, flipping her bleached curls over one shoulder, “tell us, Daniela, how does a girl like you land a bad boy like Hudson ‘Tank’ Jackson?”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
She smirks. “Our viewers are dying to know how someone like you gets a guy like that to notice her, and so am I, for that matter,” she says, gesturing to my body and winking like we’re pals and she’s joking with me.
But honestly? I don’t know this woman. And even if I did, I’m positive I still wouldn’t like her.
“Come on, don’t be coy. You’re clearly smart, don’t get me wrong. But it’s not like professional athletes, even rugby players, are known for falling head over heels for PR assistants—unless, of course, they’re conveniently trapped in a snowstorm with them. Right, folks?”
Ellie laughs—sharp, forced, nasty.
Finley makes a small, horrified sound beside me.
I open my mouth to say something—I’m not sure what—but Ellie barrels on.
“I mean, it’s cute. Really. A little cliché, but who doesn’t love a good fantasy?”
“I’m sorry? I think we’re gonna have to stop now—”
I try to walk away, but she grabs my arm and continues like it’s nothing.
“You know exactly what I mean. And honestly, don’t you think it’s a lot to ask of the team just for a little publicity? I wonder if there isn’t anything Mitchell Knight and his Rovers aren’t willing to do to make the news?”
I pull my arm out of her grip.
“Miss Vance, you clearly have the wrong idea,” I say.
“Oh, please, I mean really? The bad boy and the chubby nerd girl—it’s like a Netflix miniseries! But I’d never blame a girl for getting while the getting’s good, if you know what I mean. So, how long are you two going to fake going out to milk this whole publicity thing?”
My chest squeezes.
I feel frozen.
I mean, did she just say all that on TV? Is this going to be on the air?
Where anyone—my parents could see it?
Oh my God.
I’m stunned. Humiliated.
“I’m sorry, that’s just not—” I whisper.
Shit. What will Tank think?
“Come on, Daniela. Surely, you can’t really believe he’s in love with you, right?
Now, tell us what Tank likes in bed, be candid,” Ellie winks at the camera.
“I mean, hey, I don’t blame you for agreeing to go through with it.
If I were snowed in with Tank Jackson, I’d take advantage too.
Who knows, maybe next time I’ll get lucky. ”
I don’t even have the opportunity to respond because the next thing I hear—the very next sound?
It’s the thud of a body hitting the camera rig.
Tank crashes into the cameraman like a battering ram, sending the rig skidding across the turf.
The lens cracks.
Ellie screams.
Finley gasps.
And Tank?
Tank is vibrating with fury, his massive frame bristling as he stalks toward Ellie.
“You’re a woman,” he says low and dangerous, “so I won’t hit you. But I suggest you get the fuck away from my girl right now.”
The air crackles.
Ellie opens her mouth, but Tank steps forward, and she takes a visible step back.
“That footage?” he snarls. “Gone. You try to air it, I’ll sue your network so hard you’ll be lucky to get hired on TikTok. You disrespect her again? You’ll be lucky to walk straight.”
“Hudson,” I whisper, barely able to breathe.
He turns, eyes softening the second they land on me.
“She’s not a gimmick,” he says, voice firm but full of emotion.
“She’s not a ‘moment.’ She sure as fuck isn’t taking advantage of one goddamn thing.
Daniela’s mine. And you better believe I’m in love with her.
Been falling since the first time she told me off in front of all the boys on the paddock her first day with the team.
But that’s none of your bloody business. ”
I’m stunned. Shaking. Blinking way too fast.
Finley steps in, ushering Ellie away with a don’t-make-this-worse expression, and the moment the camera crew disappears behind the locker room doors, I lunge for him.
“I’ll sue!” the nasty reporter yells, but I don’t care about her anymore.
“Hudson,” I choke out again, throwing my arms around his neck.
He catches me easily, burying his face in my shoulder.
His chest rises and falls, still heaving from the adrenaline.
“I love you, Dani. I mean it. Every single word,” he murmurs into my skin.
And I believe him.
God help me, I do.
The whole indoor stadium room feels like a storm front.
Word travels faster than a loose ball, and by the time Tank’s grabbed my hand and pulled me off the side of the field where that newsperson sabotaged me, every single Rover knows exactly what just went down.
They’re lined up shoulder-to-shoulder in the players’ tunnel—massive men, sweat-slick, hair damp from warming up for the match, standing in their cleats or boots as most of them say.
Their eyes burn with the kind of protective energy that could flatten a semi.
It’s not subtle. It’s primal.
Koa’s the first to step forward, his jaw tight.
“What the hell did she say to you two, bruh?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Tank growls.
His arm tightens around my waist like a shield.
“I handled it.”
Another Rover snarls low in his throat.
Someone else stomps once, twice, the sound echoing like war drums.
Before I know it, the entire forward pack is stamping and growling, falling into a loose haka stance.
Not a full performance—just that spine-straightening, chest-pounding energy.
Their eyes are on me, then on Tank.
A wordless show of solidarity.
It’s ridiculous. An overreaction for sure.
But it’s also—well, it’s terrifying. And it’s beautiful.
My chest swells.
I’ve worked with these men for months, coached them on captions and hashtags and posing for the camera.
But right now? They’re not a content team.
They’re a family. My family.
I don’t even realize I’m tearing up until Finley shoves a tissue into my hand, muttering under her breath.
“Okay, okay, everybody stop stomping before someone sues us.”
Then she looks up and past me, and her face goes pale.
“Oh God. Mitchell.”
I turn, and there he is—Mitchell Knight, billionaire owner of the Carolina Rovers, in a tailored charcoal suit that probably costs more than my car.
He’s not smiling.
In fact, he looks like a man who just decided to buy the entire playing field and burn it down for fun.
“Where’s Ellie Vance?” he asks, voice like a blade.
“She—uh—she left,” Finley stammers. “I was just about to—”
Mitchell raises a hand.
“No need. My media group finalized the acquisition of PowerPlay and SportsNation as of ten minutes ago. Papers signed and sent.”
The locker room goes dead silent.
“Vance is already fired,” Mitchell continues smoothly. “Effective immediately. Security is escorting her from the building as we speak. And the segment she attempted to film today will never air.”
I blink. “Wait, you bought the network?”
Mitchell finally looks at me, his expression softening a fraction. “It was already in motion, Ms. McNally. Consider this convenient timing.”
The Rovers start to grin, low chuckles rumbling like thunder. Koa actually fist-bumps Tank.
Someone mutters, “Savage.”
Finley exhales like she’s been holding her breath since kickoff.
“Crisis averted,” she whispers.
Mitchell straightens his cuffs and glances at Tank, then back at me.
“I trust you two will continue to conduct yourselves professionally. But Ms. McNally? If anyone else attempts to disrespect you or my team like that, you come to me. Understood?”
I nod, still stunned.
“Understood.”
Mitchell tips his head once.
“Good. Now go win this match. Give America something to love even more than #SnowedInWithARover.”
The Rovers cheer, the haka energy flipping instantly into game day hype.
Tank squeezes my hand.
“You okay, Sweetheart?” he murmurs.
I look up at him—this demigod rugby warrior, standing in the middle of his brothers, eyes still hot from defending me—and something in my chest unclenches.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “For the first time all day, I think I am.”