My Billionaire Hockey Trainer

Chapter Two

It had been one week since the party. One week since my finger had sat empty, no longer brandished with a fake jewelry piece. One week since my life split into two distinct parts: the Before with Julian and the terrifying After.

There was no time for wallowing. I couldn't afford to spend weeks staring at photos or crying myself to sleep. The terror of losing my father, coupled with the burning shame of being publicly humiliated, had burned off my grief and replaced it with a numbness that was driving me.

The whispers started the moment I handed my keys to the valet. It was my first day at the office. A large number of employees from my father’s hockey recruitment agency had been at the retirement party and I knew the story had spread.

They didn't have to point or stare; the glances exchanged in the hallway and the sudden silence when I walked past spoke volumes. I was the heartbroken fiancée who lost her man and inherited the job he wanted.

It didn't take me long to find my office considering I had been there several times when my father was still in charge. Only this time, I would be at the other side of the table.

The nameplate on the door read: Brianna Hale. Chief Executive Officer.

A petite girl, Dera, scrambled in, looking frantic. “Good morning Mrs Hale. I'm Dera, I'm your assistant and I'll be helping you get settled in.”

“Miss Hale,” I corrected her with a tight lipped smile.

Flustered, she looked perpetually on the verge of apologizing for her own existence. I waved her off and requested a cup of coffee first before she returned to start running me through things.

On the mahogany desk sat a single framed photograph of my graduation. My smile was wide and genuine. Julian had been on the other side of the camera. Looking at it was like peeling a fresh wound scab. Without a second thought, I flipped the frame face down. The subtle scrape of glass on wood was my quiet farewell.

“You’re not going to believe this, Bri,” a familiar, outraged voice exploded from the doorway. Simone, my ride-or-die friend, stormed in.

She had been with me at home for the days leading up to my resumption and had been such an amazing support system.

“Well, hello to you too, my darling friend,” I deadpanned.

She shoved her phone into my face, her beautiful blue eyes blazing with protective fury. “Watch this. Now.”

My stomach churned, recognizing the set of a talk show. The video host was asking Julian about our breakup. His face, arrogant and smug, filled the screen.

“Brianna was nice. But she has always been a pushover, and I didn't like that about her. I stopped seeing a future with her, and it's sad that I've wasted so many years of my life with her,” Julian replied with a dismissive shrug, the words delivered like a seasoned actor reading a script.

My head felt heavy, and my vision blurred. I pushed the phone towards her. “Make it stop, Simone. I don't want to hear any more of it,” my voice was barely a whisper. The silence that followed was broken only by my ragged breathing.

My father’s large frame suddenly filled the office. He looked enraged, his face crimson. He must have seen the headlines already.

“I'm suing his ass. He'd have to use the whole of his life savings to bail himself out of this one,” Dad roared.

“No, Dad, please. Don't sue,” I said, feeling the sting behind my eyes. I didn't want him dragged through the mud, even after he had done the same to me. Was that stupid? Maybe.

Everyone in my office, including Dera who was with me when Simone arrived, turned to me in shock.

“Brianna, he's tarnishing your image! This guy doesn't give a rat's ass about you, and you know it,” Simone said, taking my trembling hands.

“I’ll talk to him. Get him to take it back,” I insisted, a desperate reflex.

Dad cut me off with a stern warning. “I don't want you speaking to him. I'll contact my people in the media and have the videos of that interview taken down before the end of the day.”

“Okay,” I squeaked out, exhausted by the fresh wave of public humiliation.

The rest of the day was a blur of unproductive motions. Simone called a sick day to stay with me, filling the silent gaps in the room.

“I can't believe him,” I groaned out when the two of us were finally alone in my office. “Was that even necessary? Going on a live show? And who are the moderators of that interview? Do they have no better news to carry?” I was losing my mind.

Simone looked at me. Rage was floating behind her beautiful blue eyes. “I don't know why you refused to sue. I would have dragged him to hell,” she said through gritted teeth.

That's right, Simone was a lawyer, and a damn good one too.

“Ma’am, we’re about to set up for the meeting by 1 PM,” Dera informed me, stepping hesitantly into the office.

“What meeting?” My mind was still reeling from Julian’s video.

“I sent a reminder to your email yesterday. It's a–”

“Have it rescheduled. I can't meet with anyone today,” I said, waving her away.

Dera shifted awkwardly. “It’s a very important meeting, Miss Hale. It’s been rescheduled twice already. Doing it again would give off the impression that we no longer want to work with him.”

“Who is he?” I sighed.

“Connor Adams. He’s in the top five most successful hockey players. He plays in the NHL for Chicago Claws but is taking one year off for personal reasons. He and your father were trying to finalize a six-month contract to coach a group of middle schoolers recruited by the agency.”

“Why does that name sound so familiar?” Simone cut in, rubbing her chin and non-existent beard in thought.

“Familiar or not. I can't meet with anyone today, Dera.”

Simone jumped up from the couch. “Come on, Bri. You can’t let that asshole dictate how your life turns out. This person sounds important for the agency. You have to go to the meeting.”

Her word, dictate, was the right trigger. I couldn't let Julian keep winning. I was the CEO. I had a legacy to uphold, and a father to honor.

“Fine,” I conceded. I took a deep, steadying breath. “Run me through everything I need to know about this Adams guy.”

I checked my watch for the tenth time. They were fifteen minutes late. Almost the entire executive team was present: the CFO, the Managing Director, the HR manager. The room was heavy with expectation, the stakes visibly high.

I was drafting a questioning message to Julian, a terrible, lingering habit, when the door swung open, and a four-person entourage walked in.

“Apologies for having kept you waiting,” one of the men said as we exchanged handshakes.

It didn't take a minute to decipher who the player was amongst the people present. He towered over all of them and was strikingly handsome, even with his blank expression. He moved with poise but that wasn't what intrigued me. Simone was right, there was something familiar about him.

Dera started the briefing and shortly after, the meeting was in full swing. While she spoke, I and Adams kept making eye contact.

He had an arresting gaze that almost made me squirm in my seat.

“We had already discussed this. Fifteen thousand dollars per month does not cover it. It's even below what he was earning before leaving Bustin Broods,” the man that previously apologised said.

I assumed him to be Adams’ manager. Adam himself had not said a word since he walked in.

“Yes, we're aware of the discussion you had. Which is why, this contract is only valid for the first three months then it is revised with a new and increased compensation depending on the turnout of the boys.”

And then it clicked! I remembered where I knew him from.