“That was—” I start, and then stop, because I don’t actually have the language for it.
She smiles. “I know.”
I take a breath, deeper this time, and I push her back just enough so I can look at her properly, to take her in without the haze of sex.
“We should—” I pout because I don’t want to finish the sentence. “I want to stay here with you, but I really do have to go.”
“Yes, Princess,” she says with a smile. “You need to go fulfill your royal duties.”
“Stop it.” I laugh, and she chuckles, too, pulling me against her and kissing my neck in the most distracting way possible. “You’re so mean.”
“You love it,” she replies, and I see her face shift, something soft settling in her expression. Something steady. “I’ll see you later, yes?”
“You will definitely see me later.” I knowI have heart eyes. I can feel the goofy expression spreading across my face and I don’t try to pull it back into something more contained. “What makes you think I’m not obsessed with you, Coach?”
CHAPTER 38
ISABELLA
I feel slightly unhinged.A little paranoid. Like everyone is watching me and everyone is going to know I just had sex in the locker room with the most stunning, incredible, talented coach that exists.
No one is looking at me. At least not in the way I’m thinking.
That’s the first thing I confirm when I step back into the lobby, smoothing my hair into something that resembles intentional, adjusting my coat like that will reset me into the version who belongs here.
It doesn’t.
Everything feels sharper. Louder. And it hits me all at once—the hum of the rink, the echo of blades on ice, the clipped conversations in passing. It’s like I’ve stepped back into a world that kept moving while I was somewhere else entirely.
I shouldn’t feel like this. Not before a broadcast.
I’ve done this hundreds of times. I know where to look,what to say, how to hold a moment and shape it into a meaningful story for those who are watching from the outside.
I know, with certainty, how to control the narrative. I’ve learned from the best at this.
But my body hasn’t caught up yet. There’s still heat under my skin, still the lingering imprint of her hands, her mouth, the way she said my name with such esteem.
I exhale slowly as I step into the commentating booth, placing my notes down with more precision than necessary, grounding myself in something structured and familiar.
“Hey, John,” I say, apologetic as I take my seat next to him and quickly adjust my headset. The ice is in front of us, as large and spectacular as always, and the usual screens are set right below the eyeline, allowing us to choose where to look.
My commentating partner from the past two years glances over, easy smile already in place. “Cutting it a little close today, Princess.”
“I got pulled in the lobby,” I reply, just as easily, flipping through my notes even though I don’t need to. “Totally lost track of time.”
There’s a small pause, and then a throat clears from my left.
I don’t have to look to know Nina is there, arms crossed and a perfectly neutral expression that could easily pass as disinterest to anyone who doesn’t know her.
One brow barely lifts and it’s enough to make me wince.
“Everything good?” John asks, already turning back to his monitor.
“Yes,” I say, and this time I mean it in the only way that matters right now. “Good to go.”
I settle back into position, straighten my posture, adjust the mic.
Breathe. Focus.
