Page 84 of Twisted Shot
She stares at him. “I mean…I knew his family was successful. I didn’t realize the scale.”
“Yeah. He doesn’t exactly lead with it.”
Mila forces a smile, her pulse picking up.
“Thanks,” she says, already stepping back. “I’ll go find him.”
“Godspeed,” Carter calls after her. “If his mom corners you, blink twice and I’ll come rescue you.”
She weaves through the crowd, her thoughts churning.
She had no idea.
Suddenly, his discomfort with attention makes more sense. The weight he carries. The way he slips into the background when everyone else is jockeying for space. He’s not shy—he’s trained for damage control. Programmed not to draw attention to himself, to not embarrass his family.
Now that she sees it, all she wants to do is find him.
She’s moving toward the side hallway when a voice stops her cold and has her hands clenching in involuntary fists.
“I suppose it makes sense,” Richard drawls behind her. “You’d replace a breakout star with a washed-up hack. Very on-brand.”
She whips around, already at her limit for tonight's bullshit quota “What the hell are you talking about?”
His head tilts with the smug satisfaction of someone whojust found the perfect button to push. “Jake MacDonald. I heard he’s taking Jesse Mitchell’s spot as emcee.”
She lifts her chin. “Jesse got a call-up. He’s playing for the Brooklyn Mavericks tonight.”
Richard shrugs. “Sure. I just don’t understand the logic in swapping him for someone no one’s talked about in years. The whole point of this campaign is to raise the Whalers’ profile. Not to pump up the image of your bestie’s boy toy.”
Oh. Hell. No.
“He’s a former NHL player,” she snaps. “He has name recognition. Presence.”
“He has nostalgia,” Richard counters. “That’s not the same thing. We’re not trying to impress the old ladies on the hospital board—we’re selling jerseys. You need someone current. Someone with heat.”
Mila exhales harshly through her nose, wrestling her ire back into its cage.
And the worst part—the part that makes her stomach curdle and her hands ache to throw something—is that he’s not entirely wrong.
She wants Jake up there. Wants someone solid, dependable. But Richard’s not talking about strategy. He’s talking about optics. About twisting every move she makes into a weapon, a liability, a narrative.
She hates how practiced he is at it.
Despising herself, she nods once. Enough to acknowledge the point without ceding an inch.
“I’ll handle it.”
Richard smirks. “Good. You’re learning.”
She turns before she says something she’ll regret.
Every step away from him feels like shedding skin.
Finding Theo will have to wait.
If she can’t have Jesse, and Jake’s suddenly a liability, then Carter’s her best bet.
Mila huffs out a breath so forcefully she's surprised steam doesn't come out, then frantically scans the tables for the dark head of hair and amiable smile of her potential savior, Trayvon Carter.
