Page 18 of Dirty Play

“Of course not. I apologize.” He hesitates, clearly weighing his next move. He glances over at the producer, and I see Livia facepalm herself out of the corner of my eye.

The interview drags on, but each question feels like a punch in the gut, reopening wounds I thought were buried. I keep it vague and keep my answers professional, but the fury is there, ready to explode.

“Moving forward, what are your personal goals for the upcoming season?”

I take a breath, trying to rein in the anger coursing through me.

“Win,” I deadpan.

“Right, of course, uh.” The man gives me a shaky laugh as he glances down at his notepad.

“Is that all?” I ask. I need to get out of here. This is precisely why I don’t do interviews. When it’s a post-game one, it’s always about the game. No one is asking me about my family. That’s why these are the only kinds of interviews I do. Not this tabloid shit.

The moment the camera cuts, I bolt off the set, my pulse racing, adrenaline coursing through me.

Five minutes later, I storm out of the studio into the hallways leading to the garages, adrenaline surging through my veins like wildfire. The last thing I need is another lecture from Livia, but there she is, arms crossed, looking like she’s ready for a fight.

“Rowan,” she calls, her voice a sharp edge cutting through my anger.

“Not now.” I push past her, but she steps in front of me, blocking my path.

“Actually, it is now,” she says, her tone uncompromising.

I stop, grinding my teeth. “Want to give me a lecture on how I should’ve handled that shitshow? Save it.”

“Do you think I wanted you to lose it in there? That was bad for both of us!” she retorts, her eyes flashing.

I let out a humorless laugh. “You mean bad for you.”

“What the hell happened in there, Rowan?” she asks, desperation in her voice.

“What happened is what always happens during those interviews,” I say, half-turned toward her. “And if you’re as good as you pretend to be, you would’ve done your fucking research and realized that dragging me here is a bad idea.”

“Rowan, I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable,” she starts, but I twist my body toward her, silencing her for a moment.

“You blackmailed me into doing this. Don’t pretend you give a shit about how I feel now.”

Her jaw tightens as she processes my words, guilt slowly creeping up her features.

“I shouldn’t have threatened you with HR. I know that,” she finally says, her tone apologetic. “You just left me no choice, Rowan. I’m at a loss with you,” She throws her arms out in surrender.

“Cry me a fucking river,” I throw out before turning around. I really don’t need to hear this right now. What’s done is done. The press is never going to let what happened go. My family is a story they’ll twist and milk until I’m rotting six feet under.

“You can’t just ignore the press forever. They want a story!” she insists, her voice rising with frustration as she jogs after me to keep up with my strides. I stop and turn back, causing her to crash against my chest with a small ‘oof.’

“You can go to HR if you want. I’m not doing this anymore.” My words are ice-cold, but a part of me is drawn to her defiance. Even now, even with my past being uprooted because of her, there’s still a part of me that’s drawn to her, and I fucking hate it.

“HR?” She looks taken aback for a moment, then regains her composure. “Rowan, I wasn’t actually going to tell HR. I’m here to help your career, not ruin it.”

“You call that,” I point back at the studio, “helping me? Do you know how you could’ve helped me, Livia?” I growl. “By going through the damn questions beforehand and removing any personal ones.”

“Personal questions are good!” she argues, her eyes locked on mine. “They let people see the real you.”

“I want people to see me play hockey,” I spit, my voice sharper than a knife. “I want them to see me on the ice, not in some emotional meltdown.”

Her gaze doesn’t waver, and I feel something shift in the air between us, the tension thick and heavy.

“Your reaction was unprofessional, Rowan,” she says finally, her brow furrowed as she crosses her arms defiantly. “This isn’t just about you. The team needs you to be the face of the franchise.”

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