Breaking the Beast on Ice

Chapter 10 - Counter-Play

I feel it.

The room temperature drops low the moment Alexa says that name.

Dominic Mercer.

I don’t know who the f**k he is, but I know that his name does something to Harper. She turns deathly pale even as she tries to keep her composure. Her posture has always been rigid when she’s tense, but it looks like we have to pry harder at the statue she’s become.

Statues break. They can shatter when pushed.

So far, she’s tried to keep her distance from me in Alexa’s condo, but I take a step toward her. Every instinct in my body urges me to comfort her, but I try not to. Not when she does not want people to see her this vulnerable.

She glares at me; her flashing eyes and rigid shoulders scream, “Don’t touch me. Don’t look at me like that.”

How am I looking at her?

No, it isn’t pity in my eyes, I’m sure. Curiosity? Yes. Protectiveness? Hell, yes.

“Mercer sent the photo to my phone. There’s no text attached, explaining what it is,” Alexa explains.

“Why does he have your number, Alex?” Harper asks in an eerily calm voice. Her best friend watches her warily. Of course, Alexa knows something is off. I know Harper all of five seconds while they grew up together.

“His firm handles our publicity. It’s been doing it for about a year now,” Alexa says. Alexa Dayne owns an art gallery among other things. “Last week, I swear all we were talking about were press passes. I am not sure why he has a photo of your ex-hookup, huh, Vane?”

Alexa doesn't know.

I can tell she’s telling the truth. Now, she’s passed the puck to me, and I don’t know what to do with it.

I watch Alexa and Harper, study their body language. They are about the same age, but sometimes, I almost feel that Alexa acts like the older one - at least, in private.

“I have no idea why whoever he is has Emma’s photo,” I grit out.

“There’s something about Mercer that bothers you, Harper,” Alexa says, turning to her best friend. “Who is he to you?”

“He’s, uh, a partner at Mercer & Croft. I believe his father just passed it to him,” Harper replies, but she sounds like she’s pulling from a script. “I am pretty sure the Mercers have always held a twelve percent stake in my dad’s businesses.”

“Oh, really? Isn’t he just in his early thirties?” I have to hand it to Alexa. She isn’t convinced that Harper is telling her everything, either.

There’s something in Harper’s face that is all too familiar that I don’t like. I’ve seen it before.

I’ve seen it in her.

A face flashes before my mind’s eye.

I swallow hard. There’s no way I can ask Harper the question in my head, not directly, when I am not even sure I’m reading her right.

“Yes, he is,” Harper replies. “His father is very sick. He’s also the youngest and only son.”

“Ah.”

“It still does not explain why he has Emma’s photo and why he is in this,” I remind the two women.

“Well, what if the real target is Harper?” Alexa asks. Harper flinches. Her best friend has gotten too close to the truth for comfort. “Or rather, Harper’s dad, Grant Holloway? If Mercer is quite ambitious, he’d go after the Holloway reputation. He’s probably heard about the two of you dating.”

“Fake dating,” Harper mutters.

“It does not matter, Harper. What Mercer wants is total destruction. Take Silas down. After all, Vane is your father’s star player. Maybe he has a player he prefers?”

“Something still sounds off,” I protest, passing a hand down my face. “I still don’t know how Emma fits into the story. Yes, she can destroy my reputation. But how did she jump from being jealous of Harper to framing me for domestic abuse?”

“Mm. You know her better than either of us,” Harper admits. “But it makes me wonder why the person who took the photo chose this kind of lighting. Too soft. And this angle? She’s supposed to be covering her bruise, but it still peeks out?”

I force myself to look at the picture again as Alexa flashes it to us once more.

“I don’t know what this photo is all about, but I swear to God, I have never hurt any woman like that. Yes, I am a rough bastard on the ice, and I do not regret pummeling some of them with my fists.”

"I know," Harper says softly. “I thought I already made that clear. You looked like you were about to throw up when you saw the photo. I would have expected an abuser to be enraged that someone’s onto them.”

“There is that,” I mutter. Despite the fact that I was so eager to be in this fake arrangement, I don’t think I am that good an actor.

“So, what now? Not only are we worried about the tabloids getting a whiff of this, but we also have to think of Emma Rhodes’ and Dominic Mercer’s roles in this. Are they really enemies, and what are they planning to do next? Finally, what’s our play?”

“We’ve already said that we are not “breaking up” over this,” Harper says, using air quotes. She cringes at her own action.

“So, we double down,”I add.

“Yes,” Harper agrees. “We accelerate this. We won’t be shy about this newly announced relationship. We will announce our joint charity, and we would look ridiculously in love for the press.”

“Insufferably so!” Alexa looks psyched. “So, what happens if there is a photo leak?”

“We will have our own narrative to spill,” Harper says smoothly. “It can sound like a jealous smear from Emma. We can also leak how Mercer had that photo. He’s trying to build up his reputation, too, and that’s something he didn’t think too deeply about.”

At that moment, I look at Harper. Really look at her. She’s still wearing a silk gown, but she may as well be in tactical gear. There’s something both brilliant and terrifying about her.

“We’re back in play, then?” I ask, with a smirk. I feel like myself again. Or, it may be that my mask is up again. People don’t know the real Silas Vane.

This time, I don’t have to worry about whether I should approach her or not. She slinks toward me and smiles as if she’s delighted to see me. Of course, it’s an act. I exhale sharply as I remind myself just that.

Then, she stops right in front of me, letting me smell her perfume. She smells like winter flowers in rebellion, and her hand on my chest feels so natural.

“Of course, we are. Let’s show Emma and Dominic that nothing can stop us,” she whispers, her eyes flashing with a heat that is almost foreign on her. But oh, she has it in her, even if she tries to hide it.

I give her a lopsided smile. It looks like Dominic just made things a lot more easier for us. Harper feels more natural, and I can’t help but respond accordingly.

“Damn, Holloway,” I murmur with appreciation. “I think I am starting to like you.”

“Don’t get used to it, Vane,” she replies, and something harder flashes from her eyes. “This whole thing will end at some point. We just need to reach our goals.”