Page 59 of The Hockey Pact

Whitman's face flushed. "It was entirely different, Gloria."

"Was it really?" she asked, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched in challenge.

She turned to face us, her expression softening. "Mr. and Mrs. Matthews, would it surprise you to learn that Harold and I had a 'suitable arrangement' when we married?"

I couldn't hide my surprise. "You did?"

Gloria nodded, a wry smile playing on her lips. "My father owned textile factories that Harold's shipping business needed access to. Our marriage solved several business problems at once." She patted her husband's hand. "The difference is, we had a five-year contract, not just one."

I glanced at Caleb, who looked equally stunned by this revelation.

"It was another era," Whitman muttered, though without real conviction. "Different circumstances entirely."

"The packaging may change, but human nature remains remarkably consistent," Gloria replied. She fixed us with a direct gaze. "The real question isn't how your marriage started, but what it is now."

Caleb's knee pressed more firmly against mine. "What's between us now is genuine," he said, his voice steady and sure. "That wasn't part of our plan, but it happened anyway."

A rush of warmth spread through me at his words. I felt brave enough to add, "We didn't expect or plan for actual feelings to develop, but they have."

The legal counsel, who had been silent throughout most of the conversation, finally spoke up. "While this is all very touching, we need to discuss the practical aspects. If this arrangement becomes public knowledge, we could be facing serious PR issues. Not to mention potential complications with Mr. Matthews' contract if there were clauses related to his personal conduct."

Diane leaned forward, immediately in business mode. "We've prepared for various scenarios. If necessary, we can control the narrative by emphasizing the genuine relationship that developed. We have substantial visual evidence of their connection throughout the season—charitable events, team functions, interviews."

The discussion continued for another hour, with strategies proposed and rejected, potential media responses crafted and refined. Throughout it all, Caleb's hand remained firmly around mine, anchoring me.

Finally, Whitman leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. "The captaincy will remain yours, Matthews," he said. "Contingent on no public scandals erupting from this... unusual beginning." His expression softened slightly. "Your performance on the ice has been exemplary. That matters more than how your marriage began."

Relief flooded through me, making me lightheaded. Caleb's grip on my hand tightened almost painfully.

"Thank you, sir," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I won't let you down."

As we prepared to leave, Gloria pulled me aside while the men discussed remaining contractual details.

"You know," she said quietly, "Harold proposed a proper marriage after three years of our arrangement." Her eyes crinkled with amusement. "Told me he couldn't imagine his life without me anymore." She patted my arm. "Sometimes the best loves grow from the most unexpected seeds."

Her knowing smile suggested she saw something developing between Caleb and me that mirrored her own experience. I wanted to ask her more—how they'd navigated the transition from arrangement to love, whether she'd ever doubted his feelings—but Caleb appeared at my side, his hand finding the small of my back in that now-familiar gesture.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

I nodded, unable to articulate the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

Back at the penthouse, we found Max and Zoe waiting outside our door, Max bouncing on his heels with impatience.

"Finally!" he exclaimed when he saw us. "We've been waiting forever."

"How did you even get up here?" Caleb asked as he unlocked the door.

"Your doorman loves me," Max said, pushing past us into the penthouse. "Plus, I may have mentioned a captain-related emergency."

Zoe followed, rolling her eyes. "I told him we should have called first, but apparently patience isn't in the goalie handbook."

"What's the emergency?" I asked, dropping my bag on the entry table.

Max produced a bottle of expensive whiskey from his jacket with a flourish. "Emergency friendship intervention."

Zoe unloaded containers from aHat Trickbag, the familiar logo making me realize just how much I missed being in my kitchen regularly. "We figured you could use some support after today's meeting with management."

"Diane told you?" Caleb asked, already retrieving glasses from the cabinet.

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