Skating on thin hearts

Chapter 5- Analytics

Carter Enterprises towered above the Chicago skyline, a monument of glass and steel that glittered in the morning sun. Its mirrored façade reflected the restless city beneath, but inside, the mood was anything but calm.

The boardroom stretched wide, a long mahogany table gleaming under recessed lights, the Carter crest etched discreetly into its surface. Around it sat the Blackhawks’ management team and Carter Enterprises board members, a collection of sharp suits and sharper gazes.

At the head of the table, James Carter leaned back in his chair, one arm slung casually across the armrest, as though this gathering were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Beside him, Sophia Carter stood, the very picture of precision and power in her tailored Armani suit, every line and thread radiating authority.

Her voice sliced through the murmurs.

“Welcome, everyone, to our annual welfare meeting,” she began, smooth and commanding. “As you know, Carter Enterprises prides itself on efficiency, innovation, and above all, winning. That extends to the Chicago Blackhawks. With the NHL season three months away, we face a problem. Our roster, as it stands, is not equipped to dominate. And we don’t invest in mediocrity.”

A ripple of unease moved through the room. Coach Miller, his salt-and-pepper hair hinting at decades of battles behind the bench, leaned forward with a frown.

Sophia’s lips curved, sharp as a blade. “That’s why we’ve decided to recruit a talent who can change the face of this team. Atlan Wolfe.”

The name hit the table like a puck slamming into the boards. Murmurs erupted instantly. Executives exchanged shocked looks, and Coach Miller let out a low whistle.

“Atlan Wolfe?” Miller scoffed, eyebrows rising. “Wolfe plays for the Flyers. He’s one of their stars. How the hell do you plan to pull him away from Philadelphia?”

Sophia’s sly smile widened. “He’s already agreed to sign with us, Coach. We have a meeting scheduled with him on Monday to finalize the terms.”

The murmurs sharpened into disbelief, some even tinged with admiration. Miller shook his head, muttering under his breath, “Damn miracle workers…”

Sophia turned gracefully toward the head of the table. “But perhaps our CEO would like to elaborate. After all, he’s the one who sealed the deal.”

All eyes shifted to James Carter. He rose slowly, straightening his jacket with a practiced flick. For a moment, he simply surveyed the room, enjoying the weight of their attention. Then, clearing his throat, he spoke with a lazy confidence that carried more arrogance than effort.

“Atlan Wolfe is a force of nature,” James said. “Power. Speed. Rage. He plays like every shift is a war. That’s exactly the kind of fire we need burning in our locker room. He doesn’t just win games; he breaks opponents. The Flyers can’t control him, but we can harness him. And when we do gentlemen, ladies we’re not talking playoffs. We’re talking the Cup.”

His words hung heavy, igniting a quiet energy among the board. Even Miller, skeptical as he was, couldn’t entirely hide the spark in his eyes.

Just then, the door opened. Norman, the team’s scout, slipped inside. He was younger than most of the room, He carried a leather folder, which he placed gently in front of James.

“Wolfe’s file, sir,” Norman said.

James flipped it open with deliberate care, skimming the pages filled with stats, scouting notes, and personal data. He tapped the corner of the file with one manicured finger. “Everything set for Monday?”

“Yes, Mr. Carter,” Norman replied. “Hotel accommodations arranged, logistics confirmed, security briefed. Wolfe will be arriving Monday morning.”

“Perfect.” James shut the folder with a soft thud. “This is how empires are built, ladies and gentlemen, piece by piece, player by player.”

Before anyone could respond, James’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at it, and a small, satisfied smile tugged at his lips. He slipped the phone into his jacket pocket, stood, and buttoned it smoothly.

“I’ll need to cut this meeting short,” James announced. “I have… a very important person waiting for me.”

Murmurs rippled again, this time edged with irritation. Sophia’s gaze snapped to him, but James didn’t so much as glance her way. He strolled toward the door with the easy arrogance of a man who knew the world bent to his schedule.

“James,” Sophia hissed, following him into the corridor. Her heels clicked like gunshots on the polished marble. Outside the boardroom, she caught his arm, her manicured nails digging into his sleeve. “You’re walking out on a critical meeting. Don’t tell me you’re ditching strategy discussions to run off to one of your many whores.”

James’s smirk was infuriating. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Unbelievable.”

“I’ve been bored all morning,” James drawled, brushing her hand off. “And you’re perfectly capable of handling things. Aren’t you, Sophia?”

They stood toe-to-toe, two predators circling. Sophia’s voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “One day, James, your arrogance will burn this empire to the ground.”

“Then I suppose you’ll be there, sifting through the ashes,” he shot back, before turning on his heel and walking away, his confident stride echoing down the corridor.

Sophia remained frozen for a moment, fury simmering just beneath her elegant composure. She inhaled deeply, reining it in. But before she could return to the boardroom, Norman appeared at her side. His expression was unusually tight, his voice low and urgent.

“Ms. Carter, we may have a problem.”

Her sharp eyes flicked to him. “What problem?”

Norman hesitated, as though weighing the cost of speaking the truth. Then he leaned closer. “Our new talent, Wolfe. During my routine investigation, I found out that he tends to fancy the male gender.”

Sophia tilted her head, studying him. Her face betrayed nothing, though a storm gathered behind her gaze. “That kind of rumor could mean bad publicity for the franchise if it gets out.”

“Yes,” Norman said carefully. “Some would call it a liability. Sponsors, fans, this could complicate things.”

For a long moment, Sophia said nothing. Then, her red lips curved in a smile devoid of warmth. “Publicity is irrelevant. What matters is winning the Cup. If Atlan Wolfe is the key to that, then we’ll manage whatever storm comes after.”

Norman frowned faintly, but Sophia’s tone left no room for argument. Her heels clicked once more as she turned to return to the boardroom, her mind already calculating the risks, the lies, and the weapons she could wield.

Winning always came first, no matter the costs and whatever the costs were she was ready to pay.

On a second thought she turned again to him, “One more thing Norman, I want a PI placed on James 24/7. I want to know who the w***e he's been frequenting this time is.”