Director Hannah’soffice is at the far end of the ice complex. I’ve never seen her wear anything except black, like a stagehand or an undertaker. She’s standing by the big windows overlooking the empty rink with her arms crossed and her foot tapping in triple-time.
She doesn’t look up as I enter. “Sit.”
I do. My chair is cold and hard. It feels like an interrogation lamp is about to swing down from the ceiling. I look up to double-check it’s not up there waiting for me.
Hannah finally turns. She has the kind of presence that makes even alphas sit up straight. “Well. You’ve seen the article, I hope.”
“Yes.”
“And the comments?”
I nod.
She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Grace, this is not just about you. The show’s reputation, the sponsors—all of them read that site.Allthe sites.”
“I know.”
Her eyes narrow. “Do you?”
I take a breath and steady myself. “I’m not going to let this get in the way of the performance.”
She regards me with pursed lips. “Your chemistry with Connor Jones is undeniable. It makes sense in hindsight that an alpha-omega bond is what’s happening there. But I can’t have this impacting anything.”
I shake my head. “It won’t impact the show. We’re not even together.”
“Is that so?” Her tone is flat. “Because according to multiple sources, you were scent-matched, then rejected, and now forced to work together. That kind of situation rarely ends well.”
I let the silence stretch. “If by ‘sources’ you mean news articles, then sure. And to be honest, there is truth to them. We scent-matched, not that that’s anyone’s business. But that’s non-factor now. It didn’t work out. I promise this won’t affect the show on our part.”
She leans forward. Her eyes bore into mine. “Do you believe that?”
I hold her gaze. “I have to. I want Reverie more than I want anything. I’m not going to sabotage myself or the program just because some troll wrote a spicy article.”
She nods, once, brisk. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Still, if there’s trouble?—”
“I’ll come to you first.”
She stands. “Good. Now go practice that jump. I need the Princess to land it for the rest of the show.”
I rise and pull my bag over my shoulder. “Yes, ma’am.”
I leave her office and head straight for the rink, which is freezing. I lace up and step onto the ice. My blades leave thin, neat tracks behind me—evidence that I was here, that I moved forward even when every rumor said I’d break.
Connor waits near the center circle stretching. I skate over, shoulders squared.
He smirks, but there’s something softer behind it. “Are you ready?”
I meet his eyes. “Let’s show them how it’s done.”
CHAPTER 12
CONNOR
The clock reads 12:34AM when Zev gets to my apartment. Here’s there before Fowler. Maybe we should have just met at their place, but Fowler’s coming from so far out of the way from both his apartment and mine that it doesn’t matter.
This can’t wait until morning.
Fowler gets here ten minutes after Zev. He bangs twice on the door before I get over there to let him in. Then the two of them raid my fridge. I let them finishing foraging what little I have in there before calling their attention.
