Puck My Sins On Ruthless Ice

Chapter 14: The Car Ride Home

Gianna’s POV

We stayed at the brunch for another thirty minutes, smiling and nodding until the photographers finally packed up their cameras. The moment we were allowed to leave, Ryker led me quickly back to his black truck.

The car doors shut, cutting off the noise of the campus crowd. Ryker immediately started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

"How did you do that?" I asked, turning my whole body in the passenger seat to look at him. My heart was still beating fast from the reporter's questions.

"Do what?" Ryker kept his eyes on the road, his large hands gripping the steering wheel. His right shoulder winced slightly as he turned the car around a sharp corner.

"The story about the maiden name and the divorce," I said, my voice dropping low. "You came up with that lie in two seconds. It was so perfect, and the reporter couldn't say a single word back."

Ryker let out a short, dark laugh, but his face remained serious. "When you grow up with scouts, coaches, and cameras watching your every move, you learn how to handle the press, Cole. If you hesitate for even a second, they smell a lie. You have to give them an answer that sounds convincing immediately."

He glanced over at me for a split second, his gray eyes intense. "Besides, I told you before. The contract works both ways. If your cover blows, my reputation goes down with it. I was protecting my investment."

"Right," I muttered, looking out the side window as the campus buildings rolled past. An investment. That is all this was to him, and I needed to remember that.

But my mind kept spinning. The reporter had already checked my old records. If she kept digging, or if someone else got curious, a simple lie about a maiden name wouldn't save me next time. My past was a shadow, and it was catching up to me fast.

"We need to check the transfer files again," I said after a minute of silence. "If there are more glitches, we need to fix them before the next big event."

"My agent's team handled the paperwork," Ryker said, his voice tightening. "They don't make mistakes. The reporter was just guessing, trying to get a reaction out of you. And you almost gave it to her."

"I did not," I protested, my cheeks burning.

"Your face went totally pale, Cole," Ryker countered, pulling the car into the private garage of the East Wing building. He turned off the engine and looked over at me in the dim garage light. "If I hadn't stepped in, she would have known you were hiding something. You're tough, but you're not used to the spotlight."

He was right, and it annoyed me. I was used to performing on the ice in front of thousands of people, but I had never had to defend my entire existence to a stranger with a microphone.

"I'll be ready next time," I said coldly, grabbing my bag.

"Good," Ryker said, opening his door. "Because the next event is the mid-season athletic gala on Friday. The whole board will be there.

And I won’t tolerate any mistakes."