The Hockey Star's Regret

The phone rang at exactly 10:00 PM. Nathan Colton knew before looking at the screen. Only one person in the world called at exactly 10:00 PM every Thursday evening. Eleanor Colton, his grandmother. He set down the glass of whiskey he'd been staring at and picked up the phone. "Grandmother." "Nathan. I trust you are sitting down." He wasn't. He was standing in the living room of his modest downtown apartment, a place Leila loved because it didn't scream money. A place Nathan had chosen specifically because it didn't scream 'Colton'. "I'm standing," he said. "Sit." He didn't. But he leaned against the back of the couch. Eleanor Colton didn't waste words. She never had. "The board met today. Your father's trust is officially being activated. As you know, the terms of the inheritance require you to be married before the age of thirty to access the principal. You turn twenty-nine in three months, Nathan." "I know the terms." "Then you also know that if you fail to meet them, the entire fortune, every share, every property, every cent of the Colton legacy, gets redistributed among the secondary heirs. The Chandlers. Your cousin Gregory." She let that name hang in the air. "I did not build this empire for Gregory to inherit." Nathan's fist tightened around the phone. Gregory. The same cousin who had laughed at him at his father's funeral. The same cousin who called him 'weak' because Nathan had chosen to build his own path instead of parading the Colton name. "What are you saying, Grandmother?" "I'm saying I have spoken with Nelson." Nathan went still. 'Nelson.' As in 'Nelson Group'. As in the third-largest conglomerate in the country. As in billionaire Marcus Nelson, whose daughter.. "Samantha Nelson," Eleanor continued, as if reading his mind. "She is intelligent. Presentable. Well-bred. Her family has agreed. Our family has agreed. The engagement will be announced next week, and the wedding will take place in exactly one month." The room tilted. "One month?" Nathan's voice came out shocked. "You didn't even ask me." "I don't ask, Nathan. I inform. Your father made the mistake of marrying for love, and where did that get him? In the ground at fifty-two, leaving you with nothing but a last name and a trust you can't touch." A pause. "I am not making the same mistake with you." Nathan pressed his fingers against his temple. His head was already aching. "I have someone, Grandma." Silence. Then, laughter. Eleanor Colton never genuinely laughed, but she did. "The hockey player." "She has a name." "Leila Torres. Twenty-four. Star forward of the national women's league. No family wealth to speak of. No political connections. A girl who hits things with a stick for a living." Eleanor's tone was sharp. "She is never going to be a Colton wife. It's time to come home and run the family empire." "She's my choice." "She was a diversion. A five-year distraction. It is time to come home, come sit on your late father's throne Nathan." The line went dead. Nathan stood in the silence, the phone still pressed to his ear. His reflection stared back at him from the dark window, dark hair, sharp jaw, the Colton cheekbones his grandmother called 'our best feature'. Five years. Five years of hiding who he was. Five years of managing Leila's career, building her brand, shielding her from the ugly side of fame. Five years of loving a woman who still couldn't fully let go of a past. He pulled up his contact list. Leila's face smiled back at him from her profile photo, mid-game, hair flying, stick raised, looking like a warrior goddess. His chest tightened. He had proposed to her before. Three times, actually. The first time was on a beach in Malibu, two years into their relationship. She had kissed him and said, "Not yet, babe. Let's just enjoy this." The second time was after she won the championship. He had slipped the ring box into her trophy case as a joke. A hopeful joke. She laughed, pulled it out, and said, "You're crazy. I can't get married right now. My career is just taking off." The third time was six months ago. He had been serious. Down on one knee in this very apartment. She had looked at him with those big brown eyes and said, "Nathan, I love you. You know I do. But I'm just... I'm not ready. Please don't push me." He had stopped pushing. He should have seen it. He should have seen a lot of things. But now there was no time left. One month. Eleanor had given him one month before she chained him to Samantha Nelson and locked away the key. Nathan grabbed his keys. He didn't think. He didn't plan. He just drove. Leila lived in a sleek tower in the city center, one he had helped her pick out, one he had quietly co-signed the lease for under a shell company so she'd never feel like she owed him. That was who Nathan Colton was. The man who loved wholeheartedly. The man who gave in secret. The drive took fourteen minutes. He was speeding. He didn't care. She had told him earlier that evening she was having a few friends over for drinks, pre-game celebration before her team flew out for the away series tomorrow. He hadn't planned to go. He had paperwork to finish. Contracts to review. Her contracts, always her contracts. But now he was walking through the lobby, nodding at the doorman, stepping into the elevator with his heart beating. This is it, he told himself. No more gentle asks. No more maybe-laters. You tell her the truth. You tell her everything, the family, the money, the inheritance, the marriage deadline. You lay it all bare and you beg if you have to. Nathan Colton had never begged anyone for anything in his life. But for Leila Torres, he would bleed on his knees. The elevator opened on the twelfth floor. He walked down the familiar hallway, the one with the soft cream carpet and the abstract art Leila had picked because it "felt athletic." He stopped at door 1247. The door was slightly open. He could hear laughter inside. Soft laughter that belonged to the woman he was ready to wage a war against his own family for. He raised his hand to push the door open... And stood still. Because Leila's voice carried through the gap clear as a bell. Loud. The voice she used when she was holding court with her friends, the one that was full of confidence and tease. "I can't believe I actually won the bet." Nathan's hand hovered in mid-air. "Making Nathan fall in love with me was too easy. His a weak man."