Page 1 of Power Play Daddies
Prologue
DAISY
“All right,team. Let’s talk numbers,” Janice says, fanning herself with a folder.
It’s probably the only thing keeping her alive in this Miami heat. “I know it’s hot as balls in here, but that’s nothing compared to the dumpster fire of our engagement stats.”
The conference room smells faintly of burned coffee and desperation. I sit near the back, notebook open, doodling little hockey sticks in the margins while half-listening.
Not that I don’t care—I do. More than anyone here probably realizes. It’s just hard to focus when I know the entire paper is circling the drain.
“Last week’s feature on the city’s best margaritas did okay,” Janice continues. “But that think piece about the ‘Top Five Sex Positions You’re Doing Wrong’? tanked. Like, Titanic levels of sinking.”
Someone snorts. A few other people chuckle. I glance at Logan, who’s sitting across from me, and he gives me a look—eyebrows raised, lips twitching like he’s trying not to laugh.
Logan’s always been my anchor in this place, even when the rest of the staff treats me like I’m the intern who never left.
“Sex sells, my ass,” Janice mutters, flipping through her papers.
“Maybe people just don’t want to think about sweating it out in this heat,” Logan observes, his deep voice cutting through the awkward silence.
Janice glares at him. “You’ve got jokes, Rivera. I’ve got deadlines.”
Logan leans back in his chair, grinning. “It’s a gift.”
I stifle a laugh and focus on Janice, who is now listing off all the reasons we’re toast if the next few weeks don’t bring a miracle. Something about ad revenue. The usual doom-and-gloom speech.
“Any fresh ideas?” she asks, looking around like one of us might suddenly pull a Pulitzer-worthy headline out of thin air.
I clear my throat. “I’ve been thinking about doing a deep dive on the Miami Icemen.”
That gets everyone’s attention. Heads turn. Conversations stop.
“Hockey?” someone scoffs. “In the summer?”
“Yeah,” I say, straightening up. “They’re huge in this city. There’s a lot of untapped potential for stories—player profiles, behind-the-scenes access, maybe even fan culture. It’s not just hockey. It’s a community.”
Janice tilts her head, considering. “And how do you plan to get ‘behind-the-scenes access’? They’re not exactly handing out press passes to the likes of us.”
I hesitate. I don’t want to drop the Ace Carter card right away, but Logan speaks before I can figure out how to phrase things.
“Her uncle’s the head coach,” he says, leaning forward like he’s defending me in court.
Janice blinks. “You’re related to Ace Carter?”
“Yeah, on my dad’s side,” I admit, feeling the familiar twist of tension at the thought of my dad.
“Well, shit,” Janice says, her face lighting up for the first time all morning. “Why didn’t you lead with that? Use it. Milk it.”
“It’s… complicated,” I say, already regretting my suggestion.
Logan shoots me a quick glance, the kind that says,we’ll talk about that later. He’s the only one here who knows how strained things are between Ace and me.
He’s been a true friend for years, the only one who’s seen me ugly cry in my crappy apartment after my stories bomb or after a breakup. He knows how hard the topic of family is for me.
Janice waves a hand. “Complicated or not, if it gets us clicks, I don’t care. Make it happen, love.”
There’s a dismissive edge to her tone that makes my stomach tighten. I glance at Logan again, and he gives me a small, encouraging nod.
