Page 80 of The Pucking Date
“Perfect,” I say. “Then we can skip the preamble.”
They watch me, faces unreadable. I don’t flinch. “You’re waiting. Watching. Seeing where he lands.”
They know who I’m talking about. And they don’t deny it.
“Fanatics deal hinges on O’Reilly going west. L.A. gets the player. Fanatics gets the narrative. That’s a win for our competitor on the ice…and yours at the sponsor table.”
That lands.
I step in closer, tone low and even. “The Defenders want him in the East. Under Armour wants traction here. If we move together, we anchor him where he belongs, and you don’t just get the player, you get the city.”
One of them leans in, intrigued. “And what do you want?”
I let the pause stretch. Then I smile, calm, unshaken. Just enough edge to keep them guessing.
“I want Finn O’Reilly built right, as the man he actually is, not the broken narrative the Fanatics want to sell. No redemption arc. No tortured legacy. Just power, precision, and presence. A campaign that reflects what he is now, not what the league thinks he’s running from.”
I flip the tablet, tap the screen. Pull up the mock-up I built this morning—Finn in the middle of a city street, snow falling, Defenders beanie pulled low, Under Armour hoodie sharp against steel and grit. Polished enough for credibility, edgy enough for sales.
No beaches. No backstories. Only the present moment.
One exec leans forward. “What’s your timeline?”
“Finn’s deciding this week. Fanatics is pushing hard with their LA angle, but they’re selling his trauma as marketing gold. You can offer him something better, a brand built on who he is now, not who he’s running from.”
The other exec nods slowly. “And the Defenders organization supports this?”
“The Defenders want him in New York. You want East Coast market penetration. It’s a perfect match—if you move fast.”
Their expressions shift, no longer bored, no longer detached. They hear it now.
“He’s not waiting,” I say. “So if you are, you’ll miss him.”
The Under Armour execs exchange glances. I can see the wheels turning. Good. Let them think. Let them move. Because Finn O’Reilly deserves better than being packaged and sold like commodity meat.
I pivot without waiting for permission, shoulders squared, heels clicking behind me. I’m already pulling out my phone.
“Joy,” I say as soon as she answers. “I need a concept deck built for Under Armour. Call it O’Reilly slash NY Grit. I’ll send over a one-pager with visual direction. Include campaign tone, engagement metrics, urban brand angles, and Q3 influencer heatmap. Light on legacy, lean into momentum.”
She’s already typing. “Deadline?”
“Three hours. I want it in their inbox before dinner.”
I’m still riding the adrenaline high when I spot him across the room. Finn O’Reilly, leaning against the bar like he owns the place. Time to see if he’s as smart as I think he is—and whether he’ll let me help him stay in control.
He’ssin wrapped in black fabric—fitted shirt hugging every line of that infuriatingly perfect body, sleeves pushed up, showing forearms that have no right being that distracting.One hand around a glass, the other casually tucked in his pocket.
His stare burns. Locked on me. Steady. Unapologetic. Tracking every move I made since I walked into the room. Like he knows I’m two seconds from combusting.
I square my shoulders, refusing to let what happened between us two nights ago dictate my steps, and march straight toward him. His smirk deepens, radiating lazy confidence as I stop in front of him.
“Red,” he drawls, low and smooth. As if we’re seamlessly picking up where his hands left off.
“Save the swagger, O’Reilly,” I snap, keeping my tone cutting enough to draw blood through whatever game he thinks he’s playing. “This isn’t personal.”
He quirks a brow, amused. “Funny, considering how personal things got the other day.”
“Business,” I bite out, ignoring the flush threatening my neck. I pull my tablet from under my arm. It’s a shield. “You’ve got two offers on the table. LA wants to sign you—roster spot, strong contract, immediate ice time. And Fanatics Sportswear is circling with a sponsorship deal—seven figures, national campaigns.”
