Page 8 of Dirty Play

“Vent all you need.” She waves a hand with a sweet smile before turning her attention back to the ice. “But you might be surprised. He’s not as bad as he seems.”

“Really?” I raise an eyebrow. “All I’ve seen so far is a guy who thinks the world revolves around him.”

Avery laughs again, shaking her head. “He can be a tough nut to crack, sure. But Rowan takes care of his team like family. He’s fiercely loyal. And yeah, he’s stubborn, but he’s also got a big heart. That’s why I love him.”

Her words make me pause. Love him? My stomach twists uncomfortably, a pang of something I don’t want to acknowledge stabbing through me.

“You love him?” I ask carefully.

She nods.

Oh. No. Is she his girlfriend? God, of course, she is. That’s why she’s here.

“Are you two…together?” I plaster on a polite smile.

She stares at me for a second before bursting into laughter. “Oh my god, no! No, he’s my brother.”

“Oh!” Heat rushes to my face. “Oh my god,” I try to laugh it off, but the embarrassment is real. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t…Great,” I sigh, resigned. “And here I am, insulting your brother.”

“Don’t worry.” Avery grins, leaning closer. “You’re not the first person to have a problem with him.”

“Well, thanks for not letting me dig myself into a deeper hole,” I say, managing a sheepish smile. The question comes out of my mouth before I can stop it. “Does he hate everyone, or is it just PR agents?”

Avery laughs, shaking her head, the strands loose from her braid swaying.

“He doesn’t hate anybody. He’s just had issues with the media for a while,” she says, her tone softer. “Don’t take it personally and…try to ease him into it.”

The players are still on the ice, wrapping up practice, and I use the moment to pull out my phone and glance at the email thread from this morning.Sports Weeklyfell over themselves when I pitched the idea of an exclusive interview with the Panthers’ elusive captain. Rowan, who notoriously avoids interviews like the plague, is a media goldmine waiting to be tapped.

There’s just one tiny problem.

I haven’t told Rowan about it yet.

My gaze flicks to the ice, where he’s skating toward the bench. Even from here, he looks enormous, the sharp black and gold of his practice jersey stretched over his gear, making him appear more like a tank than a man. He’s pulling his helmet off as he steps off the ice, his green eyes scanning the room.

I steel myself and make my move, intercepting him as he heads toward the locker rooms.

“DiMarco,” I call, my voice steady despite the nerves creeping up my spine.

He stops mid-step, turning to face me. Up close, he’s even bigger, his shoulder pads and chest protector making him look like a damn bear. A bear with tattoos, sweat-slick hair, and an expression that says,I dare you to waste my time.

“Ah, Ms. Moody,” he replies, his tone flat as his eyes sweep over me.

I take a breath and try to soften my approach.Try to ease him into it,Avery’s words echo in my head.Okay, then.

“You played well out there,” I say, offering what I hope looks like a genuine smile.

He quirks an eyebrow, his mouth curling into something between a smirk and a sneer.

“I know.”

Nothank you.Of course not. Why would I expect that?

“I saw you and Avery up there.” His lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile.

“Yes, we just met,” I say a little too enthusiastically. “Definitely the better sibling.”

The almost-smile fades, replaced by something darker, something dangerous. “That so?”

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