Page 43 of Face Off With Fate

The question came out harsher than intended.

“Truth is…”

She crossed the room, her steps quiet on the short carpet. Those hot-pink nails splayed across the wooden desk top, a hint of tawny skin teasing where her shirt hung open at her collarbone from bending over. The position had me imagining what she’d look like from behind, and I blinked to try to chase the image away.

“I’m obsessed with you, Monroe,” Graciella said, looking at me with doe eyes and a pouty mouth.

What the hell? My heart thrashed in my chest so hard I was sure she’d hear it.

“I…uh…” No, words came to mind, my brain broken from her confession.

Her sinful mouth broke out into a huge smile. Pale pink tongue wetting the pillowy cushions. Fuck.

“God, I wish you could see your face right now.” She laughed, the sound vivid and bright in my normally quiet office. She plopped into the armchair behind her, pulling her legging-clad legs up onto the cushion with her. “Although I’m a little insulted that you looked like you were about to throw up.”

Joke. She was joking.

My chest tightened, my mouth struggling to create enough moisture to respond verbally. The relief I should have felt was decidedly absent. Instead, it was like a rock dropped into my stomach.

“You came to my work just to annoy me?” I finally bit out, ignoring the pang of disappointment.

“Not the only reason. I also came because we start operation ‘Monroe speaks in sentences to the public’ today.” She looked at her phone, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. The overhead lighting shone off where she twirled the gold ring on her pointer with her thumb. “Right now, actually. So come on, out of your chair.”

“What do you mean right now?” I still stood for some reason, despite everything in my mind screaming at me not to give in to her demands. “What kind of PR person are you? Aren’t you supposed to give your client a heads-up? Or, I don’t know, run this shit by me?”

Graciella was already halfway to the door, a smug smirk on her far-too-distracting face. “Not when your client is a stubborn man who does so much better at following directions when you spring things on him.”

“Oh, you mean when you manipulate him?”

She winked. “Does it matter, Monroe? We both know you’re going to follow me anyway,” she called, disappearing down the hall.

Fuck.

She was right.

The air shifted, turning cold and crisp the closer we got to the practice rink. Skates slicing against ice melded with the occasional whistle and chatter from the youth practices happening at one of the five rinks our facility had.

“Where are you going?” I called after Graciella’s retreating back, but all she did was shoot a smile over her shoulder as I chased after her.

Up ahead, I could hear commotion, but I couldn’t quite place what it was.

“Graciella.” I lunged forward, gripping her shoulder before we reached the end of the hall. “I don’t like not knowing things. If we’re going to work together, then you need to talk to me,” I said, spinning her around.

I couldn’t decipher the look she gave me.

“Okay, you’re right.” Her throat bobbed, and annoyingly, I found myself transfixed by the pulse pounding at her collarbone. “You’re going to be speaking to San Jose State’s hockey team.” She dragged her lip between her teeth, eyes darting away. “Their women’s team.”

I reared back, surprised. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because that was the reaction I was hoping to avoid.” She threw her arms in the air. “These girls deserve to be looked at as serious athletes, too. What better way to get eyes on their program than an article about their time with a Stanley Cup-winning coach? They are underfunded and overlooked and⁠—”

“Graciella.” I tipped her chin, keeping my fingers there a second longer than needed before dropping my hand to my side. “Of course they’re serious athletes who deserve attention.”

Her brows pulled together in the middle. “Wait, that growl wasn’t because it’s the women’s team and not the men’s?”

Unable to resist, I rubbed away the two little lines marring her forehead. “No, Graciella. The growl was because you didn’t just tell me about it. I’d have liked to be more prepared to speak with them.”

Her cheeks deepened in color, an “Oh” falling from her lips.