CHAPTER 8 #2
Olivia kept her face neutral. “Is there a problem?”
“No.”
Thomas continued speaking, unaware that twenty hockey players had become interested in the call for reasons unrelated to sponsorship.
When it ended, Adam leaned toward Daniel. “Was that jealousy?”
Daniel whispered, “In its natural habitat.”
Alex stood. “Both of you have six a.m. conditioning.”
“We lost,” Adam said. “We already have six a.m. conditioning.”
“Now you have more.”
Coach Davis hid a smile behind his water glass.
Olivia should have been irritated. She was. She also felt a reckless warmth beneath it.
After dinner, the hotel’s security manager reported that someone had requested duplicate key cards for three Titans rooms using a forged travel-department email. The requests included Olivia’s suite.
The cards had not been issued because the clerk recognized the wrong logo in the signature block.
The threat was active even before the camera was discovered.
Alex reviewed the manager’s records while Olivia stood beside him.
“Parker expected us to share the suite,” she said.
“Or created the shortage.”
“You think he canceled rooms?”
“The travel coordinator received the change through a hotel corporate account. Halcyon manages hotel network security in five states.”
The same company again.
Noah joined by secure call and confirmed the reservation system had been accessed through the retired maintenance credential. The one-room arrangement was not chance.
Someone had engineered proximity, then installed a camera to capture the result.
Olivia looked at Alex. “They wanted a photograph before we kissed.”
“They expected us to.”
“Why?”
“To compromise you. Discredit the investigation. Give Robert a reason to remove you.”
“Or give Richard leverage over you.”
Alex’s expression hardened. “He already has Ben.”
“No. He has threats against Ben. Leverage is strongest when it proves a person can be made to choose.”
“And he wants to know whether I choose you.”
The words were quiet.
Olivia’s pulse changed.
She looked toward the team around them. Daniel pretended to discuss dessert while watching. Luke returned from medical treatment with his ankle wrapped. Noah’s face remained on the secure tablet. They were surrounded and somehow alone.
“What would you choose?” she asked.
Alex did not answer immediately.
“The person in immediate danger,” he said.
“That is not what I asked.”
“I know.”
The restraint told her the honest answer frightened him.
Coach Davis ordered everyone upstairs before the storm cut power to part of the district. Alex and Olivia rode the elevator with Daniel and Adam, who argued about whether cereal qualified as soup. The absurd conversation kept the tension contained until the doors opened on their floor.
Daniel looked at the suite number, then at Alex. “Do you need a chaperone?”
“No,” Alex said.
Olivia answered at the same time. “Possibly.”
Daniel brightened.
Alex took one step toward him.
“Good night,” Olivia said, pushing Alex toward the suite before a new suspension began.
Inside, the room felt changed by the knowledge that someone had designed it for them. Every lamp, vent, and smoke detector became suspect. Alex searched with hotel security present. They found nothing then.
Only later would the camera reveal itself.
For the moment, they were left with the storm, one bedroom, and the dangerous fact that their enemies understood the attraction before they admitted it.
Back at the hotel, the storm had worsened. Room service delivered sandwiches and soup because the restaurant closed early. Olivia worked at the small dining table while I reviewed game footage on the television with the sound low.
We existed around each other cautiously.
At midnight, she shut her laptop.
“Your team listens to you,” she said.
“They listen to Davis.”
“They obey Davis. They listen to you.”
I paused the footage. “Is that a compliment?”
“Do not become excited.”
“Too late.”
She smiled faintly, then looked toward the window. Ice struck the glass like handfuls of sand.
“What did you mean three years ago?” she asked.
I knew without clarification.
The hearing. Her father’s office. The words I had used to make her leave.
“You said I liked saving broken men because it made me feel important.”
I set down the remote.
“Olivia.”
“No. We have avoided it long enough.”
“One of your new rules was not discussing what almost happened.”
“This is older.”
Older and more dangerous.
She stood near the window, arms folded loosely. The reflection showed me the vulnerability she hid from the room.
“I defended you because my father threatened to trade you after the fight,” she said. “I argued that the team depended on your leadership. I told him he was punishing you for asking questions about the development program.”
“I know.”
“I risked my relationship with him.”
“I know.”
“And you made me feel pathetic for caring.”
The accusation held no anger now. Only the wound beneath it.
I had preferred her fury.
“Robert told me he would remove Ben’s scholarship if I continued asking about the camp,” I said. “Then you walked into the office and challenged him in front of the board.”
“So you punished me.”
“I panicked.”
“You do not panic.”
“I did with you.”
She turned from the window.
I forced myself to continue.
“You were becoming something he could use. Something anyone could use. I thought if I made you hate me, you would stay away.”
“You succeeded.”
“No.” The truth came before caution. “You left. It was not the same thing.”
The room became too quiet.
Her eyes searched mine. “Did you want me to stay?”
Every defensive answer I had used for three years lined up behind my teeth.
I chose none of them.
“Yes.”
Her breath caught.
I stood because sitting made me feel cornered.
She did not step back.
“I wanted you then,” I said. “I wanted you after you left. I want you now. None of that makes me safe for you.”
“You do not get to decide what is safe for me.”
“I know.”
The words felt different each time. Less like defeat. More like an opening.
Olivia crossed the room.
She stopped within reach.
“Tell me why you kept watching me,” she said.
I had not told her about the reports yet. She knew only the threats Robert had mentioned, not the years I had continued monitoring after he withdrew the request.
The truth could end everything before it began.
“Because when I knew where you were, I could sleep.”
Her expression changed.
“That is not romantic,” she said.
“I did not say it was.”
“It is frightening.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep showing me things I refused to know before.”
She was close enough that the sleeve of her sweater touched my hand.
“Are you watching me now?”
“Yes.”
The answer came out lower than intended.
Her gaze dropped to my mouth.
I did not move.
The restraint became pain.
“Tell me to stop,” I said.
“You are not doing anything.”
“Exactly.”
Her fingers closed around my tie.
Three years of self-control ended with one pull.
Her mouth hit mine hard enough to split the cut on my lip.
Pain sharpened the kiss. So did anger. She kissed me as if punishing me for every cruel word, every hidden report, every night we had spent pretending attraction was only hostility.
I held her face between my hands and waited for hesitation.
None came.
Olivia rose onto her toes, dragging me closer by the tie. I tasted tea, fury, and the small sound she made when my thumb brushed beneath her jaw.
The sound nearly destroyed what remained of my judgment.
I backed her toward the wall, then stopped before her shoulders touched it.
“Permission,” I said against her mouth.
Her eyes opened, dark and unfocused.
“Yes.”
I kissed her again.
This time slower. Not gentle, but deliberate. Learning the shape of her mouth instead of fighting it. Her hands moved beneath my jacket, palms spreading against my chest. Every place she touched became a command I wanted to obey.
When I pulled away, we were both breathing too hard.
Her lips were swollen. A faint smear of my blood marked the corner of her mouth.
I wiped it with my thumb.
“That cannot happen again,” she whispered.
I rested my forehead against hers.
“Then stop looking at me like you want it to.”
“I do not.”
“Liar.”
She released my tie and stepped away.
The loss of contact was immediate.
“This changes nothing,” she said.
“It changes every room we enter.”
“That is exactly what I am afraid of.”
She went into the bedroom and closed the door.
This time she did not lock it.
I lay on the short sofa and stared at the ceiling for two hours.
At three seventeen, my phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
A photograph showed Olivia and me kissing against the hotel wall.
The angle came from inside the suite.
Beneath it were five words.
NOW WE KNOW HER WEAKNESS.
I stood and searched the room.
Behind the television, a tiny camera blinked once.