Chapter 19
Maeve
There is a specific kind of quiet that comes after a hurricane. The wind stops howling. The rain stops lashing against the windows. The pressure in the air drops, leaving behind a stillness that feels almost sacred.
I woke up in that stillness.
I was lying in my bed in the penthouse—no, our penthouse. We had driven back late last night, after the Dean had grudgingly given Kai his key fob back. The sun was streaming through the sheer curtains, painting stripes of gold across the duvet.
Kai was asleep next to me.
He was sprawled on his stomach, one arm thrown over my waist, his face buried in the pillow.
His breathing was deep and even. He looked younger when he slept.
The hard lines of tension around his mouth were smoothed out.
The bruise under his eye from three months ago was gone, replaced by a healthy, if slightly pale, complexion from his time in the Russian winter.
I watched him. I counted his eyelashes. I traced the line of the wolf tattoo on his shoulder with my eyes.
I wasn't scared anymore.
Three months ago, waking up next to him felt like stealing time. It felt like we were holding our breath, waiting for the axe to fall.
Today? Today the axe was gone. We had taken it from the executioner and thrown it out the window.
Kai stirred. His hand tightened on my waist, pulling me closer even in his sleep. He mumbled something in Russian—low, gravelly, unintelligible.
"Good morning," I whispered, running my fingers through his messy dark hair.
One grey eye cracked open. It focused on me slowly. Then the other opened. A slow, lazy smile spread across his face.
"It wasn't a dream," he rasped.
"Nope," I said, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. "You're still here. I'm still here. And your suit is still ruined on the floor."
He groaned, rolling onto his back and rubbing his face with his hands. "Don't remind me. That was Italian wool."
"It died for a good cause."
He looked at me, his gaze softening. He reached up, cupping my cheek. His thumb brushed over my lip.
"It died for the best cause," he corrected.
He pulled me down for a kiss. It tasted like morning breath and happiness. It was slow, unhurried. We had nowhere to be. No practice. No secret meetings.
"So," he said against my mouth. "What is the plan, Princess?"
"Well," I said, pulling back slightly. "First, coffee. Second, you need a shower because you smell like an international flight. And third... we have a meeting."
Kai stiffened slightly. The old reflex. "With who?"
"My dad," I said. "And the Athletic Director. And probably a lawyer or two."
"Ah," Kai sighed. "The firing squad."
"No," I shook my head, sitting up and pulling the sheet around me. "Not a firing squad. A negotiation."
I looked down at him. I felt strong. Stronger than I had ever felt in my life.
"We hold the cards now, Kai. The press is on our side. The students are on our side. They can't bury us anymore. We walk in there, we tell them the truth, and we dictate the terms."
Kai studied me. A look of pure admiration crossed his face.
"When did you get so terrifying?" he asked.
"When I realized I had something worth fighting for," I said.
He sat up, the sheet falling to his waist. He looked at me with a hunger that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with partnership.
"Okay," he said. "Coffee. Shower. Negotiation. Then what?"
"Then," I smiled, tracing a finger down his chest. "We celebrate."
"Celebrate?" His eyebrow quirked up.
"Properly," I promised. "No stress. No secrets. Just us."
He caught my hand and kissed my palm.
"I like this plan," he said. "Let's execute."
The meeting was scheduled for 11:00 AM in the main conference room of the Administration Building. The "War Room," as Harper called it.
We walked across campus hand in hand.
It was a statement.
People stopped. Heads turned. Phones came out. I heard the whispers. Is that him? Is that Volkov? He's back?
Kai didn't look down. He didn't pull his hood up. He wore a fresh pair of jeans and a black hoodie, looking every inch the hockey god he was. He held my hand firmly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on my skin. But he wasn't soothing me. He was just... holding on.
We walked up the steps of the building.
"Ready?" he asked at the door.
"Always," I said.
We pushed through the double doors.
The receptionist’s jaw dropped. She scrambled for her phone, probably to warn my father.
We didn't wait. We walked straight to the conference room.
Kai opened the door for me.
Inside, the table was full. My father sat at the head. To his right was Coach Miller. To his left, the Athletic Director, a man named Henderson who always looked like he was smelling something bad. There was also a woman in a suit I didn't recognize—University Legal Counsel, probably.
The room went silent as we entered.
My father looked at Kai. He didn't look angry. He looked... resigned.
"Mr. Volkov," he said. "Maeve. Please, sit."
We sat. Side by side. Our chairs touching.
"This is unexpected," Henderson started, glaring at Kai. "Technically, Mr. Volkov, you are trespassing. You withdrew from the university."
"I was coerced," Kai said calmly, leaning back in his chair. He looked relaxed. Dangerous. "I signed a document under duress, without legal representation, while being threatened by a member of the administration."
He looked at my father.
"That document is void," Kai stated. "And if you try to enforce it, I will go to the press. Again. And this time, I won't be nice."
The lawyer cleared her throat. "Mr. Volkov, your... departure... caused significant disruption. The NCAA investigation is still open."
"The NCAA investigation is based on a lie," I cut in. My voice was steady. "A lie perpetuated by this administration to protect its donor funding. But the donor is gone. Aleksei Volkov has pulled his money, hasn't he?"
My father flinched. It was true. The funding for the new stadium had vanished the moment Kai defied his father.
"So," I continued, leaning forward. "You have no money. You have a PR nightmare. And you have a star player who wants to come back and finish his degree. You can either fight us—and lose the public opinion war—or you can reinstate him."
"Reinstate him?" Henderson scoffed. "After he abandoned the team?"
"I left to protect the team," Kai corrected. "And now I'm back to lead it."
Coach Miller spoke up for the first time. He looked at Kai.
"You're out of shape, son," Miller said bluntly. "You haven't skated in a week. You missed the celebration. The boys... they might not welcome you back."
"They will," Kai said. "Because I'm the best center in the league. And because I'm going to win them another trophy next year."
"Next year?" Miller raised an eyebrow. "You're staying?"
"I'm staying," Kai said. He reached over and took my hand on the table. In front of everyone. "I'm finishing my degree. I'm playing my senior year. And then... I'm going to Chicago."
"Chicago?" my father asked, looking confused.
"The Blackhawks," Kai said. "My agent called this morning. They saw the press conference. They saw the public support. They're still interested. But they want me to play one more year. Prove I'm stable. Prove I'm not a flight risk."
He squeezed my hand.
"I'm not a flight risk anymore," he said. "I'm grounded."
The room was silent. The power dynamic had shifted completely. They needed Kai. They needed the positive press of his "redemption arc." They needed to make the scandal go away.
And the only way to do that was to give us what we wanted.
My father sighed. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Fine," he said. "Reinstatement. Effective immediately. But you are on strict probation, Volkov. One toe out of line—"
"I know the drill," Kai interrupted. "I'll be a model student. I'll pass Ethics. I have a great tutor."
He winked at me.
Henderson looked like he wanted to argue, but the lawyer put a hand on his arm. She nodded.
"We can draft a statement," the lawyer said. "Mutual misunderstanding. Personal leave of absence. We spin it."
"Spin away," I said. "Just make sure his name is on the roster by tomorrow."
My father looked at me. For the first time in years, I didn't see disappointment in his eyes. I saw respect.
"You're dangerous, Maeve," he said quietly.
"I learned from the best," I replied.
We stood up.
"Are we done?" Kai asked.
"For now," my father said. "But Volkov?"
Kai paused at the door. "Yes, sir?"
"If you ever leave her again," my father said, his voice dropping to a low growl, "I won't need the NCAA to ruin you."
Kai smiled. It was a genuine smile.
"Understood, sir."
We walked out of the conference room.
We walked down the hall.
As soon as the doors closed behind us, Kai grabbed me. He pulled me into a supply closet—an ironic callback to our first "date"—and pressed me against the shelves of printer paper.
"You were amazing," he breathed, kissing my neck. "You were incredible. 'Spin away.' God, that was sexy."
"I told you," I gasped, wrapping my arms around his neck. "I handle the marketing. You handle the hockey."
"Deal," he groaned, grinding his hips against mine. "Let's go home. I need to celebrate."
"Now?"
"Right now."
The penthouse felt different when we got back.
It wasn't just a space anymore. It was ours. The ghost of his father was gone. The shadow of the Dean was gone.
Kai locked the door. He turned to me.
He didn't pounce. He didn't rush.
He walked over to me and picked me up. He carried me to the bedroom—the one we shared now. He laid me on the bed.
The afternoon light was warm, bathing the room in honey and amber.
He stood by the bed and took off his hoodie. Then his t-shirt.
I watched him. His body was a map of our history. The bruises from the championship game had faded to yellow. The tattoos were stark against his skin. But he looked… lighter. The weight of the world was off his shoulders.
He knelt on the bed. He crawled over me.
"Hi," he whispered, bracing his weight on his forearms, framing my face.
"Hi," I smiled up at him.
"I love you," he said.
He said it easily. Freely. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"I love you too," I said.
He kissed me.
It was a slow, deep, devastating kiss. It wasn't fueled by fear or desperation or secrecy. It was fueled by pure, unadulterated joy.
He pulled back, his eyes searching mine.
"I want to memorize you," he said. "Every inch."
"You already have," I teased.
"Not like this," he said. "Not as a free man."
He reached for the hem of my sweater. I lifted my arms. He pulled it off. Then my jeans. Then my bra and panties.
He undressed me with a reverence that made my heart ache. He kissed every scar, every freckle, every curve.
When he finally settled between my legs, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. This was right. This was where I belonged.
"Ready?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.
"Always," I whispered.
He entered me slowly, maintaining eye contact the entire time.
It was intense. It was intimate. It was a conversation without words.
I am here. I am yours. We made it.
He moved with a steady, rolling rhythm that sent waves of pleasure crashing through me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, wanting to merge with him completely.
"Kai," I sighed, arching my back. "That feels… perfect."
"You feel perfect," he grumbled, burying his face in my neck. "You feel like home."
The sex was different this time. It wasn't about power. It wasn't about control. It was about celebration. We laughed when we fumbled a position. We whispered dirty promises and sweet confessions. We took our time.
When the climax came, it was a slow, building crescendo. It washed over us like a warm tide, leaving us breathless and clinging to each other in the aftermath.
We lay there for a long time, tangled in the sheets, watching the dust motes dance in the sunlight.
Kai traced the line of my spine with his fingertips.
"So," he said lazily. "Senior year. You and me. Ruling the school."
"I think we should be benevolent rulers," I suggested. "Maybe fewer scandals."
"Boring," he murmured, kissing my shoulder. "I like a little trouble."
"You are trouble."
"I'm your trouble."
He rolled onto his back, pulling me onto his chest. I rested my chin on my hands, looking down at him.
"Are you okay?" I asked. "Really okay? About the KHL? About your dad?"
Kai looked at the ceiling. He thought about it for a moment.
"My dad," he said slowly, "is a businessman. He lost an asset. He'll be angry for a while. Then he'll find a new investment. He'll replace me."
"Does that hurt?"
"It used to," he admitted. "Now? It feels like relief. I don't want to be an investment, Maeve. I just want to be a person."
He looked at me.
"And as for the KHL... I hated it. The hockey was good, but the life... it was empty. I realized that winning doesn't mean anything if you don't have someone to share it with."
He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
"I'd rather be a bus driver in Chicago with you than a King in Moscow without you."
I felt tears prick my eyes. "You'd be a terrible bus driver. You have road rage."
"True," he grinned. "I'd probably check a taxi into the boards."
We laughed.
It was a good sound. A healthy sound.
"We have a year," I said. "Before Chicago. Before the NHL. Before real life starts."
"Let's make it count," he said.
"How?"
"Well," he smirked, his hands sliding down to my lower back. "I still owe you a favor. Remember? For the Ethics paper."
My eyes widened. "I forgot about that."
"I didn't," he said. "The deal was anything you want. No questions asked. No refusals."
I bit my lip. "Anything?"
"Anything."
I thought about it. I thought about the secret dream I had been harboring. Not about fashion. Not about school. But about us.
"Take me to the cabin," I whispered.
Kai froze. "The cabin? The one... where he left me?"
"No," I said. "Not that one. Find us a cabin. A new one. Somewhere in the woods. Somewhere quiet. For a weekend. Just us. No phones. No hockey. No noise."
I looked at him.
"I want to rewrite the memory," I said. "I want to take the cold place and make it warm. I want to replace the ghosts with us."
Kai stared at me. His eyes shimmered with emotion. He looked like I had just given him the world.
"Okay," he whispered. "A cabin. Next weekend."
"Next weekend," I agreed.
He pulled me down for a kiss.
"You really are my savior," he murmured against my lips.
"No," I said, resting my forehead against his. "We saved each other."
The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the room. But inside the penthouse, there was no darkness.
We were safe. We were together.
And for the first time in a long time, the ice had melted.