Page 7 of Power Play
I stare at him. The rooftop buzzes with music and champagne and beautiful people pretending they’re not all deeply insecure. I could say something flippant. I could dodge. But for some reason, I don’t.
I lean in slightly and say, “We’ll see.”
Murphy’s grin turns into something slow and dangerous. It’s like I’ve just handed him a match and dared him to strike it.
And for the first time since that stupid, world-altering kiss, I feel it again; the spark. The one I’ve been trying to smother under logicand sarcasm. It’s still there. Very much alive and inconvenient, and I have a sinking feeling it’s not going anywhere.
CHAPTER FOUR
MURPHY
The tuxedo fits like a charm, tailored to perfection, crisp lapels, and a bow tie that took me three attempts to get right. I stare at my reflection, adjusting the cufflinks Mia insisted I wear. They’re silver, engraved with tiny hockey sticks. A gift from the team after our last championship. A reminder of who I am, or at least, who I’m supposed to be.
The imposter syndrome hits hard sometimes. I grew up on a council estate in North Yorkshire. Nothing fancy, just a two up, two down little house. My dad’s still in the police force, and my mum used to work at the local supermarket. I wasn’t planning on making a career out of hockey, it was my mum’s way of getting rid of all the excess energy I had. But somehow, I seem to be doing okay.
I run a hand through my hair, trying to tame the unruly mass. The mirror offers a version of me that looks the part. Confident, composed, ready to schmooze sponsors and charm the press. But beneath the polished exterior, there’s still a chasm of uncertainty.
This gala is a significant event, it’s Dylan and Mia’s charity fundraiser, they’ve been planning it for months. It’s for a good cause; they’re raising money to refurbish the old community building next to the rink. It’ll provide somewhere for the junior league players to call their own, and I genuinely support it. But tonight, the thought of seeing Sophie again had my stomach in knots.
I pull my phone out, scrolling through messages. A few from teammates, some from fans, and one from my mum reminding me to smile for the cameras.
With a final glance in the bathroom mirror and a tweak of the bowtie, I make my way out of the bathroom into the main ballroom. The venue is a spectacle of opulence, all crystal chandeliers,flowing champagne, and a sea of elegantly dressed attendees. I navigate through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries, shaking hands, posing for selfies.
A group of fans approach me, giggling and blushing. “Murphy, can we get a photo?”
“Of course,” I reply, wrapping an arm around one of them, flashing my signature grin.
They thank me profusely, and I move on, the smile fading as quickly as it appeared. I find Dylan near the bar, looking dapper in his tuxedo. “Hey, man,” I greet him.
“Murph! Glad you made it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
We chat about the event, the turnout, the funds raised. But my mind keeps drifting.
“She’s here, you know,” Dylan says, as if reading my thoughts.
“Who?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Sophie.”
“I know, I saw her when I got here, but she was helping Mia with some shit,” I turn and rest my back against the bar. Surveying the room, my eyes searching for Sophie amongst the sea of people.
“She’s been avoiding you, huh?” I nod. “Give her time,” he advises. “She’ll come around.”
I hope he’s right.
I excuse myself, needing a moment to breathe. I step out onto the balcony, the cool night air a welcome relief. The city lights stretch out before me, a reminder of how vast and impersonal everything can feel.
I lean against the railing, lost in thought.
“Murphy.”
I turn to see Mia approaching, a concerned look on her face.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Just needed some air.” She studies me. “You’ve been off lately.”
