Page 28 of Twisted Shot
“Stop talking.”
“Not a chance,” Jesse says, as he rambles about themed punch recipes and whether he could pull off dressing as a sexy Frankenstein.
CHAPTER 10
MILA
Mila sinks deeper into the corner of Natalie and Jake’s oversized sectional, cradling her second—okay, third—glass of red wine. Her heels are somewhere by the front door, her blouse is wrinkled, and her head is pounding, not from the wine, but from Richard.
Richard, with his smug smile and his habit of pretending her voice doesn’t exist until he echoes it ten minutes later and passes an idea off as his own idea. Richard, who’d spent the entire follow-up meeting with Jim Pearce nodding condescendingly whenever Mila spoke, only to interrupt her mid-sentence and redirect the conversation like she was some glorified intern instead of the strategist who built the campaign.
And Jim, kind and well-meaning as he is, hadn’t noticed. Or worse, had politely pretended not to.
Her stomach churns just thinking about it.
Still, the pitch had landed. The presentation she’d been obsessing over for the past week had hit home—especially with the sales team. They’d lit up when she spoke about targeting families, legacy fans, and the emotional pull of generational loyalty. It hadn’t hurt that she and Naomi had spent the last five days cold calling everyyouth hockey club, middle school, and community center in Hartford to secure verbal commitments for ticket blocks. In exchange, Mila had promised them outreach—player visits, discounted concessions, signed jerseys.
That part had been hers. Richard hadn’t touched it. Couldn’t fake it.
If the Whalers signed the contract, she knew who’d won them over.
“You look like you want to set something on fire,” Natalie says, perched across from her with a throw pillow on her lap and a half-full glass of cabernet. She’s watching Mila with that best-friend squint—the one that reads moods like tea leaves. “Let me guess. Richard’s still a dick?”
Mila lets out a bitter laugh. “He’s worse. You should’ve seen him today. He cut me off in the middle of explaining the tiered ticket packages I came up with, then pitched them like they were his. Literally used my phrasing.”
Natalie groans. “He’s the worst.”
Jake walks in from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and drops onto the couch beside Natalie. “That bad?”
Mila sips her wine and nods. “Every time I say something, he gets this look—like, ‘Isn’t that cute?’ Then hijacks the point and wraps it in corporate buzzwords. I’m being gaslit by my exandmy senior lead all at once.”
Jake raises his eyebrows. “Want me to pay his hotel room a visit? Rough him up a bit? I’ve still got the hands for it.”
Mila offers him a faint smile. “Tempting.”
Natalie leans over and refills Mila’s glass without asking. “What you need is a distraction.”
“I need him to be body-checked into oblivion.”
“Or,” Natalie says sweetly, “you could come with me to Jesse’s Halloween party.”
Mila snorts. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come on,” Natalie says. “It’ll be fun. Costumes. Candy. Plus, we need to do damage control. Keep Jesse off social media.”
Jake shrugs. “Most definitely.”
Mila groans. “Nat, I’ve been in meetings and airport lounges and hotel rooms for two straight days. I’m exhausted. I look like death. Ihave zero energy to stand around pretending I know who half the people are in a room full of bunnies dressed like slutty pirates.”
Natalie pouts. “You wouldn’t be pretending. You’ve known Jesse forever. And Theo will be there.”
That gets a flicker of something. Mila ducks her gaze to her wineglass, hoping Natalie doesn’t notice the way her mouth tugged at the mention of Theo.
“Oh,” Natalie says slowly, corners of her mouth quirking upward, “still not sick of looking at him?”
Mila rolls her eyes. “He’s…fine.”
Natalie grins. “Fine. Okay.”
