Puking My Hockey Rival

Chapter10

LUCA'S POV

The spreadsheet Diane Marsh laid out across the marble conference table was color-coded in shades of beige and pale green, like a visual representation of the situation I was in.

“The gala coverage did its job,” Diane said, tapping a manicured nail against the second column.

I liked her, she was one of my best decisions as a player. Her being my publicist was also one of the best decisions I'd ever made. She was smart, precise, and entirely immune to bullshit, which was why she was the only person in the situation I trusted not to panic.

Nodding my head, I murmured, “I'm glad it paid off.”

“Engagement metrics are up twenty-two percent,” Diane replied. “The demographic crossover between your traditional hockey base and Sienna's lifestyle audience is performing exactly where we projected. But the third-party commentary is not very…um consistent.”

I didn't look at the screen as I scoffed. I kept my hands flat on the edge of the table, my posture the exact balance of attentive and relaxed that twelve seasons of camera training had carved into my muscle memory. “What does that even mean?”

“They're looking for the chemistry between you and Ms. Vale,” Diane answered, leaning back and crossing her legs. “People are bored, nosy and extremely parasocial.” She shrugged. “They love a power couple who are extremely attractive and have good chemistry with each other, that way it's easier for them to live through them.”

A mix between a laugh and a scoff bubbled out of me as I shook my head and wiped my mouth with the back of my arm.

“Funny, I know,” my publicist went on. “But it's true. Now what they do with these pictures is, they zoom in…they look at body language and then they get even more parasocial. Right now, you and Sienna are not selling this relationship.”

She waved towards the photos on the desk between us, “you both look like two very well-dressed executives who agreed to a merger over conference calls. It's too clean. Too guarded.”

“Well it's not like we knew each other before you chucked us together a few days ago, there's bound to be some tension, Diane.”

“That's understandable, and would even be more so if this wasn't a very delicate situation, Luca,” Diane countered smoothly. “When you're trying to convince a skeptical public that you're genuinely involved with one of the most visible digital creators in the country, being tense makes everything look…well fake.”

“It's all fake.”

“That's literally not the point,” she muttered, sounding a bit irritated.

Before I could answer, the phone faced down beside my ipad vibrated.

It wasn't a call that rattled the desk. Just a single, low hum against the wood. But the screen lit up with a name that immediately sent my pulse racing.

Diane paused, her eyes flicking down to the screen before returning to my face with professional neutrality. “Take it if you need to. We have ten minutes before the social media brief anyway.”

I picked up the phone, unlocked it with a practiced flick of my thumb, and muted the ringer before pressing it to my ear.

“I'm in a meeting,” I said quietly, keeping my voice level so Diane wouldnt realise how affected I was by a mere voice.

“Am I on loudspeaker?” Ronan asked easily.

I almost laughed, and not because the question was particularly funny.

“Why would you be? I'm not stupid.”

“If you say so,” Ronan replied, snickering.

I gritted my teeth as I took a soft breath. “What do you want?”

“I saw the pictures from the foundation thing,” Ronan’s voice came through the speaker, low and flat and entirely unbothered.

“You looked like you wanted to be anywhere else but beside that pretty influencer lady.”

“It's called being composed in public,” I muttered, shifting my weight slightly so my back was turned toward Diane. “Some of us still know how to maintain that outside, you know?”

“Oh please,” Ronan mocked, the dry edge of amusement slipping into the cadence. “We both know that had nothing to do with composure. This is all for PR isn't it?”

“What are you? The News?” I quipped sarcastically. “Also, you and I don't know anything…”

“Well I just think that if you're going to sell a narrative to the entire sports media circuit, you might want to try looking the part of a devoted boyfriend instead of a man calculating his escape routes.”

A hot, sharp flash of irritation hit the base of my neck. I stood up from the chair without caring what Diane would be thinking. She simply nodded once when I raised an eyebrow in silent question.

“I'll be out in a second,” I said, my voice clipped.

I walked down the short corridor toward the private washrooms near the back of the suite, pushing the heavy oak door shut behind me and locking the deadbolt with a sharp click.