Page 130

Mac the Rookie: fuck. the internet is speculating they’re moving the team to Texas

Mac the Rookie: we are cooked

Pence: Fuck yes! Texas! LFG!!

Brownie: Anyone heard of the new owners?

Bennett went to check. Fuck, he hoped they hadn’t been bought by some conglomerate that knew nothing about⁠—

The name of the new owners jumped off the screen.

Bello Family Holdings, Limited.

His breath caught. No. It couldn’t be. The idea was ludicrous. Bello was a common word. Probably the last name of the family. Right?

He kept reading:

The League’s Board of Governors has approved a bid for Bello Family Holdings, a Toronto-based private equity enterprise, to acquire controlling interest of the Toronto Reign and ownership of Alpine Arena from Ontario Sports Group.

Bello Family Holdings has built a diverse portfolio of operating businesses and commercial real estate holdings in North America. The CEO, Filippo Marzano, said the company is excited to join the long tradition of the Toronto Reign and become an active part of the hockey community.

Bennett’s arm dropped uselessly, his body reeling. Filippo Marzano. Nico’s cousin. Nico . . . just bought the team. Bennett’s team. A pro hockey team. In Toronto.

It made no fucking sense.

He didn’t know what to do. The team chat was still in full freak-out mode, but Bennett could only stare through the penthouse windows, eyes unfocused, as the last conversation with Nico played over and over in his mind. Where Bennett had confessed to loving him, to being in love with him, and Nico made his feelings perfectly clear.

We are fucking, Bennett. That is all we are doing.

So, why buy the team? Almost five billion dollars. Media scrutiny. Social media discussion. This sale brought a whole host of problems for Nico that went against everything Bennett knew about him.

And it meant the Marzano family would now be looming ominously like a dark specter over Bennett’s life. Was this revenge for Alex Sewell? Or was this revenge for Bennett’s unrequited confession? It seemed an expensive stretch, but Bennett wouldn’t put anything past Nico.

Shit, were they planning to trade him to another city? As owner, Nico now had the sway in the organization to make that happen. He could destroy Bennett’s life with one phone call.

Jesus Christ, should he start packing for Winnipeg?

Bennett’s stomach rolled, nausea threatening, so he bent over and placed his hands on his knees. Was he going to throw up or have a panic attack?

Breathe, he ordered himself. Stop spiraling.

He needed answers. Lifting his hand, he unlocked his phone—and froze. What was he planning to do, call Nico and demand answers? They were over.

The team chat was asking if he knew anything. He assured them he didn’t. Then he spent the next few minutes trying to calm them all down. Suddenly, the buzzer in his apartment sounded. The security desk downstairs. Was this one of the players, coming here to commiserate together?

“Yeah?” he said into the box.

“Mr. Verreault, it’s Paul at the security desk. You have a Mr. Marzano here to see you. Should I let him up?”

Bennett sagged against the wall. Nico? Here? And stopping by the security desk instead of just breaking in? “Uh, yeah. Thanks, Paul. You can send him up.”

For five seconds, he blinked and tried to remain upright. His adrenaline was rushing, heart pounding and lungs struggling, almost like he was on the ice during a game. Dragging in a deep breath, he held it in and let it out slowly. Then he opened his door and waited for the elevator.

It seemed to take forever. The gears whirred softly as the car approached, and Bennett tried to think of why Nico might be here. Was this to tell him about the sale in person?

Or worse, the trade in person?

He shivered. Fuck, he could almost feel the bitter Winnipeg wind whipping around his neck.