Page 81 of Twisted Shot
His smile slips. “Me?”
“You’re perfect. Former NHL star, current coach, comfortable with a crowd. You know half the people in this room. You’re Jake the Snake, practically a celebrity.”
Jake looks over her shoulder, scanning the crowd like he’s hoping someone else will pop up from behindthe ice sculpture and volunteer. No one does.
He drags a hand over his face, giving her a look. “You’re really asking me?”
“I’m asking you to save me,” she says, deploying her most weaponized doe eyes. Natalie would understand. “Please.”
He hesitates for another breath, then sighs heavily. “Fine. Give me the script.”
Relief hits her so hard she sags against the nearest table. “You’re my hero.”
Jake chuckles, shaking his head. “Tell that to my knees.”
And just like that, one fire is out.
She’s still rattled. Still strung tight with nerves. But now she can focus on Theo.
CHAPTER 28
THEO
Theo stands near one of the sponsor tables, nodding as Tall finishes telling a story that may or may not be entirely true.
“—and then he actually thanked me for the elbow to the ribs,” Tall finishes, deadpan. “Said it knocked his shoulder back into place.”
The donors laugh politely. Carter follows up with something self-deprecating. He’s charming, as always—maybe even more than usual—and the donors eat it up.
Theo adds a faint smile, sipping his water.
No one seems to notice that he has said little.
Which is fine. Ideal, really.
He’d been dreading this. The crowd, the pressure, the potential for forced conversation and awkward silences. But it’s not so bad, especially with his teammates here. The room is buzzing, glittering. Everything looks just shy of magical.
And Mila…
She’s across the room, standing near the stage with Jake, her silver dress hugging the curves that have haunted his nights since they met.
She’s the most beautiful woman in the room by a mile, and all Theo can do is stare like a man who already knows he’s in too deep.
He should walk over there.Needsto. His whole body is practically vibrating with theurge, just waiting for his brain to stop overthinking and?—
"Theodore."
The voice slides through his thoughts, chilling his blood.
“I thought I saw you lurking over here. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your…friends?”
Every cell in Theo's body goes into lockdown. His spine turns to steel, his breathing shallow, that familiar cold dread creeping up his neck like fingers made of ice.
He turns. Slowly. Because maybe if he moves carefully enough, this won't be happening.
But there she is—his mother, in all her terrifying glory. She’s a portrait of restrained opulence in a navy evening gown with sheer sleeves. Diamonds glint at her ears and throat, catching the chandelier light like shards of ice. In one hand, she carries an ornate Venetian-style mask decorated with lacy silver filigree. Her dark hair is swept into a flawless chignon, smooth and immovable. Her expression is cool and vaguely expectant, the kind that makes people straighten their posture and apologize before they’ve done anything wrong.
“Mother,” he says, surprised the word even comes out.
