“They’re implying I had a reason to. Or that I paid off the job in sexual favors.” She let out a forced laugh with a dramatic eye roll. “I mean, at least be professional, if you’re not going to be witty.”
Her remark and a hard push to lighten the mood settled my mind in a way no one ever could before.
My jaw tightened as her joke had time to linger. I chewed on the words as they sent a white-hot rage to build in the pit of my stomach.
“Don’t,” she murmured. “Not here.” Her eyes flicked to mine again, quick, warning. “Stella’s here,” she added.
I stepped closer.
Close enough that it read correctly from the outside. Close enough that every camera in the room would catch the angle and build whatever narrative they wanted out of it. Close enough that I caught her scent under the arena air—something soft, clean, faintly warm. Familiar now in a way I hadn’t agreed to.
She didn’t move.
Just held her ground.
The win was still in my blood. The noise still echoing behind my ears. The pressure that had been sitting on my chest for weeks cracked just enough to let something through I didn’t have a name for yet.
Relief.
Maybe.
Before I could think better of it, I leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. Soft. Fast. Gone almost as soon as it landed.
“Pour les caméras,” I muttered under my breath as I tipped my head toward the rolling film.
It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth.
Her breath caught. Barely. Her eyes snapped to mine—sharp, surprised, searching like she was trying to find the line between performance and something else.
And just as quickly, it faded. Replaced with that same composed expression as she turned slightly toward the room, shoulders resetting, spine straightening like she was locking herself back into place.
“Ready,” she said, louder now.
Professional.
Perfect.
I stepped up to the podium.
Chairs scraped. Cameras lifted. The room tightened. And then?—
“—Alois!” Stella. Front row. No hesitation. No wasted time. “How does it feel,” she continued, tone even, “to have the charges dismissed this morning and then step onto the ice tonight like nothing happened?”
Straight to the throat.
A few pens stilled. A couple of cameras zoomed tighter.
“It didn’t feel like nothing,” I stated. “It felt like hockey.”
A ripple moved through the room.
Another voice jumped in before Stella could follow. “Do you think the ruling was fair, given the level of force involved in the incident?”
“I think the people who saw it made the decision they were supposed to,” I replied. “That’s their job.”
“And your job?” someone else pressed.
“To play a game,” I said flippantly.