Off The Record

Chapter 3

Violet practically marched into the administrative suite the next morning, her expression hardened against the bubbling dread in her stomach. She demanded an explanation for the sudden tournament partnership change, only to be told with practiced corporate ease that pairing their top journalist with their star player was a strategic move to boost publicity and generate buzz.

​Gathering her composure, she stepped into the arena to meet the team, kicking off her rounds with Captain Alex Mercer. His calm confidence offered a stark contrast to the swirling chaos in her own life, and she pressed him on the upcoming playoff push and how they maintained composure under pressure.

​Next, she turned to Sam Jansen, the reliable defenseman, digging into their defensive strategies and the essential keys to a successful tournament run. With the initial interviews setting a strong foundation, she moved through the rest of the squad rapidly, blending their responses about personal goals and the electric tournament atmosphere into a seamless overview. It was a rhythm that captured the team's collective energy while sharpening the edge of anticipation for her final conversation with Ezra.

​Then Clara hurried over, tapping her arm. "He's ready. Ezra's waiting by the rink."

​Violet nodded, walking briskly toward the ice as the familiar chill hit her skin. She stopped a few feet from him, her microphone ready. "What is your primary focus for this season's championship run, and what does it mean to the team?"

​Ezra turned to face her, his expression professional and calm. "My return to the ice," he replied, his eyes locked onto hers, "is all about bringing the championship home."

​When she probed about their new working partnership, a subtle shift crossed his features. "I embrace the tournament partnership as a fresh opportunity for the team." And when she asked what it felt like having her by his side, he added quietly, "It's a unique privilege to blend our expertise for this project."

​After the interview wrapped, Violet's live broadcast generated a massive online buzz, with fans swooning over Ezra and expressing renewed hope for the team's championship run.

​Just as she was about to call it a day, her phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket, her heart skipping a beat when she saw her editor's name flashing on the screen. She swiped to answer.

​"Brilliant work today," the editor said, his voice full of excitement. "The traffic numbers are through the roof. Keep this momentum up for the next Act."

​"Thank you, sir," Violet replied, a wave of relief washing over her. "I'll keep pushing harder."

Later that evening, the office was quiet, save for the hum of the overhead lights. Violet was at her desk, zipping her bag shut and ready to finally head home when the heavy door swung open.

Clara marched in, her heels clicking briskly against the floor, with Ezra trailing right behind her. A sharp, conspiratorial grin lit up Clara's face.

"Going somewhere?" Clara asked, leaning against the edge of the desk. Before Violet could even offer a tired smile, Clara dropped the hammer. "Good news. You're getting a week off."

Violet blinked, suspicion instantly overriding her exhaustion. "A week off?"

"A working week," Clara corrected smoothly, waving a hand dismissively. "Dedicated entirely to building the hype around Ezra. We want an exclusive, behind-the-scenes documentary format. Total immersion."

Violet stared at her, her jaw tightening. "No. Absolutely not. I've done my part with the broadcast—"

"It's already signed off," Clara interrupted, her tone leaving zero room for argument. "And to make sure you capture the absolute essence of his life, we've arranged joint accommodation for the week. You two will be staying at the executive estate downtown.—bye." she added before turning on her heel and leaving them alone in the office.

The sudden silence hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken frustration.

Ezra held her gaze, a quiet sincerity in his voice that cut right through the tension. "I know this isn't the ideal situation, and I'm truly sorry for the way this came about. I promise to respect your space and be on my best behavior. I just want to make this work as best we can."

Violet stared at him for a long beat, the defensive armor around her ribs cracking just a fraction. Seeing him take this seriously—dropping the corporate indifference and owning the chaos—disarmed her more than she cared to admit.

"Fine," she murmured, her shoulders dropping an inch. "As long as we're clear about boundaries."

"Crystal clear," he replied softly, offering a faint, reassuring smile. "Let me walk you to the bus stop."

"No, that's okay. I can manage," she said quickly, pulling her professional shield back up. "Just... text me the details for the estate so I can meet you there."

Ezra didn't argue. Instead, he pulled out his phone, holding it out for her to input her digits. She rattled them off stiffly, watching as he tapped them in. A second later, his own device lit up in his hand.

"Got it," he said, locking his screen. "See you tomorrow, V."

The familiar, casual abbreviation hit her chest with a sudden, unauthorized jolt. It was a remnant of a time before everything changed, a ghost of how he used to talk to her, and hearing it slip from his lips now sent a sharp, conflicting ache straight through her system.

She swallowed hard, forced a nod, and turned on her heel, marching out of the office before he could see the sudden distraction in her eyes.

She walked away telling herself it was strictly business. But halfway down the block, her phone buzzed sharply in her palm. An unknown number.

Checking in so you have my direct line. See you tomorrow, Violet. — E.