Page 122 of Face Off With Fate

“I hear you.” I pulled her into my arms, but only for a second. “I’m not going to ask you to tank your career, Graciella. I want what’s best for you, and if that means waiting a few months to go public…then that’s what we’ll do. But I have one request.”

She held my gaze, holding herself with her arms.

“If I go out there today and I hold my own” —I tilted my head toward the ice— “then we start working on the exit plan. Itzel, the timeline, all of it. We move it up. As much as we reasonably can.”

She stared at me. “You’re seriously making a bet about this?”

“Yup.” I let the p snap like she so often did.

She quirked a brow. “And if you get your ass handed to you?”

“Then we table it.” I shrugged. “You get your way, we keep everything exactly where it is, and I don’t bring it up again.” I let that sit for a second. “For a little while.”

She looked away, watching the guys warm up. I could see her doing the mental math of her chances.

“Fine,” she said. “But when you go out there, and these twenty-something-year-olds skate circles around you, I want it on record that I warned you.”

“Noted.” I reached out, tucking a piece of hair back from her face before I could stop myself. “Get ready to eat your words, baby.”

Adrenaline was already moving through my blood.

These guys did not know what they were about to be up against.

FORTY

GRACIELLA

GOOD JOB, COMPUTAH

Watching Monroe play hockey was extremely hot. I snapped another picture, right as he sent a third puck sailing into the net.

Hat trick.

The guys went wild; practically the entire team barreled toward him. Their cheers were infectious. I felt the corners of my mouth pull up so high it almost hurt. Through the chaos of bodies, Monroe popped his head out, pointing a gloved finger my way, mouthing behind the plexiglass face shield.

It didn’t matter that he was yards away, or that there was so much noise I could barely hear myself. I knew exactly what he was saying.

You’re mine.

And fuck if that didn’t have my heart in my throat and my chonies drenched.

I was so screwed.

“I want them to know I’m in one with you.”

The statement echoed in my head the entire time he’d been playing, oscillating between excuses to make it work and excuses to make it fail.

I pushed the thoughts aside, watching as he attempted to detach himself from the mass of limbs and skate toward me.

“Imma shower. Stay for me?” he asked, hope shining in his eyes. It felt like he was asking so much more with that question.

I smiled. “Yeah, Monroe. I’ll stay.”

I slipped into his office, the door clicking shut behind me.

The faint scent of sweat from the rink clung to the air. My heart stopped when I caught sight of the Stanley Cup gleaming on his desk, the overhead light catching the silver bowl.

I should probably let him know it’s here.