7. Emma

The arena buzzeswith anticipation as I weave through the concrete hallways, my pulse in time with the rhythm of my clacking heels. It's go time, the first game of the season.

I dodge trainers pushing carts stacked high with gleaming hockey pads and burly equipment managers lugging heavy bags. The air smells like fresh ice and stale hockey pads, that familiar scent from my childhood spent in rinks.

Ahead, I spot Chloe, her blond hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Her pregnant belly is hidden under her flowy blouse as she gestures animatedly, deep in conversation with one of the assistant coaches. She's a total powerhouse.

I hesitate, not wanting to interrupt, but Chloe glances over and waves me to her with a warm smile.

"Emma! Just who I wanted to see," she says brightly, resting a hand on her belly. "Let's go over the social media plan one last time before puck drop, yeah?"

"Absolutely!" I follow her to the marketing office, my mind already churning with ideas. For the next hour, we sit side-by-side finessing Facebook posts and brainstorming Twitter polls to engage the fans.

I sneak a glance at Chloe as we work, admiring her quick wit and creative instincts. I wasn't sure what to expect from this job, but collaborating with her gets my blood pumping in the best way.

"Alright, I think we're set," Chloe announces, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. She eyes me appraisingly. "You know, it wasn't easy convincing the higher-ups we needed a dedicated social media manager. But you've really been killing it these past few weeks. Made my life a hell of a lot easier, especially with this little nugget on the way." She pats her belly with a wry grin.

Heat rushes to my cheeks at the unexpected praise. Chloe's approval means more than I realized. I shrug one shoulder, trying to play it cool.

"Hey, you're the one showing me the ropes. I'm just trying to keep up."

"Don't sell yourself short, Emma." Chloe heaves herself up from the chair with a little grunt. "The Blizzards are lucky to have you. Now come on, let's go see what trouble the boys are getting into down at the rink."

I follow Chloe out of the office, a newfound lightness in my steps. I'm actually doing this—living my dream of working in hockey. In that moment, surrounded by the vivid energy of game day, I feel like I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.

Chloe and I make our way down the concrete hallways towards the ice, and the cacophony of game day preparations echoes off the walls—the clatter of equipment, the chatter of staff, the blare of warm-up music. My senses are on high alert, trying to soak it all in.

Rounding a corner, we nearly collide with a tall, severe-looking woman. It's Alison Novak, the Blizzards' marketing manager.

Things haven't improved between us since our off-putting and stilted first introduction, but thankfully we haven't had much overlap. My few interactions with her have always left me feeling unsettled, like I'm being silently judged and found wanting.

"Chloe," Alison greets coolly, her sharp gaze flicking to me. "I see you have your new project in tow."

I bristle at the dismissive sneer in her voice, but bite my tongue. Causing drama with our colleagues is the last thing I need.

Chloe's smile tightens. "Yep. We were just headed to capture some behind-the-scenes content. Do you need something, Alison?"

From the clip in her voice, I can tell that Chloe doesn't appreciate how Alison is addressing her. It's a good reminder that Chloe is both of our bosses, even if Alison acts like she's in charge.

"Actually, I need to discuss some budgeting issues for next month's charity auction," Alison says brusquely. "Afraid it can't wait. I'm sure your protégé here can handle some simple video on her own, no?"

Alison's patronizing tone makes my cheeks burn with indignation. I open my mouth to retort, but Chloe beats me to it.

"It's game day, Alison," Chloe says firmly. "Emma and I have our hands full with the social accounts. Surely the auction details can wait an hour or two?"

The two women stare at each other for a long, drawn-out, increasingly awkward moment. Chloe is not about to give into this tantrum. Finally, Alison throws up her hands.

"Fine. Have it your way. But we will be discussing this today, Chloe. Before I'm forced to make some difficult decisions." With a final withering glance in my direction, she spins on her stilettos and stalks off.

"Well, she's just a ray of sunshine, isn't she?" I mutter under my breath.

Chloe sighs, rubbing her temples. "I'm sorry about that, Emma. Alison is...well, let's just say office politics have never been her strong suit."

"Hey, you don't need to apologize." I give Chloe what I hope is a reassuring smile. "I'm a big girl, I can handle a little attitude."

That earns me a tired but genuine chuckle. "That you can. Okay, new plan. I'll go smooth things over with the wicked witch of marketing. You head out to the ice, start grabbing that footage. Alex promised to do a segment for our reels today, see if you can pin him down for a quick interview after practice."

My stomach does a little flip at the mention of Alex's name. In the whirlwind of everything, I've hardly had a chance to dwell on our charged interaction in the video room a few weeks back. But the memory of his intense gaze, the warmth of his hand on mine, still has the power to make my pulse trip.

I nod, hoping my sudden flush isn't too obvious. "You got it, boss. Catch you on the flip side."

With a parting squeeze to my shoulder, Chloe heads off. I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. Time to focus. I have a job to do, and I'll be damned if I let Alison's superiority complex or my inconvenient crush on a certain skills coach distract me.

I make my way down the tunnel toward the rink feeling disoriented, partly from the anticipation of capturing my first official Blizzards game and partly from my conversation with Alison still ringing in my ears.

Her open hostility toward me is disconcerting, but I try to shake it off. I need to focus.

Emerging rinkside, the chill air washes over me, making me shiver. On the ice, the team is already running through drills with laser-sharp intensity.

My eyes find Lukas, and my belly flips. He looks like a god out there, all coiled strength and graceful power as he expertly handles his stick.

A flush of heat rolls through me as I imagine Lukas's strong arms pinning me in place while he fucks me senseless. We haven't crossed that line yet, but God knows I've fantasized about it.

Every steamy look, every flirtatious comment feels like he's slowly winding me up, building the anticipation for what's to come.

I drag my gaze away, trying to keep my mind on the task at hand, and spot Alex deep in discussion with the other coaches. His brow is furrowed in concentration, and the sight sends a thrill right to my center.

I may not know him well yet, but I swear every time our eyes meet, he looks at me like he's picturing me naked, like he's stripping away every barrier between us.

Just then, Alex glances up, his hazel eyes locking onto mine. Wildfire erupts across my skin, and I nearly fumble my camera.

Flustered, I busy myself setting up my equipment along the boards. I pan across the ice, my lens finding Slade as he leads the team in stretches. The Blizzards' captain moves with a quiet authority. His calm confidence is sexy as hell.

Slade and I haven't had much of a chance to explore the initial spark I know we both felt that night at The Gilded Lily.

Zooming in on the action again, I notice Lukas running a breakout drill with Ryan Thompson, our new star defenseman.

I've seen Ryan around the facility since he was traded to the Blizzards this season. He's a brooding tower of muscle, with an air of intensity that sets him apart from his more exuberant teammates. There's a lot riding on him—we paid a steep price to shore up our defensive weakness from last year.

But as I watch them drill, I notice a hostility between Lukas and Ryan that seems to go beyond normal competitiveness. Frowning, I zoom in tighter, studying their body language.

They're both wound tight, jaws clenched, barely acknowledging each other. Lukas's jaw is clenched tight, his eyes narrowed in a glare that could melt ice.

Ryan, for his part, seems to be giving as good as he gets, his shoulders squared and his stick slashing through the air with a bit more force than necessary.

Just what is going on with those two?

Ryan, as the defenseman, is supposed to pass the puck up to Lukas, simulating transitioning from defense to offense. But each time Ryan sends the puck sailing towards Lukas, it seems to come in just a bit too hot, forcing Lukas to scramble to corral it. And when Lukas does get control, he doesn't hesitate to fire it right back at Ryan with equal aggression, the puck ricocheting off Ryan's skates.

Is Lukas intentionally trying to throw Ryan off his game? Testing the new guy to see if he can take the heat?

Or is there something more personal at play here, some unspoken beef between them hiding beneath the surface?

I watch with mounting anxiety as Ryan finally snaps, slamming his stick against the boards in frustration before skating away from Lukas. I pan my camera away, frowning at his show of aggression.

Thisis the guy we've pinned all our hopes on? The one who's supposed to shore up our defense and get us back to the playoffs?

I know emotions can run high in the pressure cooker of professional sports, but this feels different. It's not just a rivalry between two skilled players pushing each other to be better.

There was a bitter edge to it, an animosity that makes me wonder what the hell happened between them off the ice.

And more importantly, will they be able to put it aside for the good of the team? Or is this private war going to sabotage our season?