Pretty Liar: The Captain's Obsession

Chapter 4

Kane POV

"Get the f**k up."

The guy under me coughed against the ice while blood dropped slowly from his busted lip. Pathetic fool. Around us, the entire rink had gone completely loud with shouting and skates rolling aggressively across the ice while the coach yelled something from the sidelines that I honestly couldn't care enough to hear. The asshole should've kept his damned mouth shut.

"Jesus Christ, Ash!" Jace, my best friend, barked from somewhere behind me, skating closer. "The scouts are literally here."

I rolled my jaw once before grabbing the front of the player's jersey again. "You wanna repeat what you said?" I asked calmly, which sounded annoyingly worse than me yelling. The i***t looked terrified now. Five minutes earlier, he'd thought it was hilarious bringing my mother into locker room conversations. A big mistake.

"Captain!" The coach thundered. A hand grabbed my shoulder roughly before I could hit him again. This time, I let go. The player immediately scrambled backward across the ice looking embarrassed while blood stained his mouth and honestly? I hope it hurts tomorrow too. Douchecanoe.

The coach looked one second away from cardiac arrest as I skated toward the bench. "What the hell is wrong with you lately?" "I pulled my gloves off with my teeth. "He talks too much." "You nearly broke his jaw!" "He still has one." "Ashford."

I ignored him completely and grabbed my water bottle instead while the rest of the team pretended not to stare too hard. Typical. Nobody ever knew whether I'd laugh something off or put someone through glass. Even me sometimes.

Jace dropped beside me breathing heavily. "You know normal captains usually inspire the team, right?"

I took a long drink before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "I do inspire them."

"To fear homicide?"

"That too."

He snorted tiredly. Practice continued around us, but my attention drifted toward the massive glass windows overlooking the rink because standing there in an expensive cream coat and oversized sunglasses despite being indoors stood the exact reason my mood was already f****d today. Celeste Ashford. My mother looked like a movie premiere covered in some expensive s**t diamonds and pure irritation. Even from across the rink, I could tell she was furious.

Jace noticed her too and winced. "Damn." "Yeah." "She looks expensive and angry." "She usually is."

The coach blew the whistle loudly a few minutes later, ending practice before skating directly toward me with disappointment written all over his face. "Your mother's been waiting twenty minutes." "She can wait twenty more." "Ash." I stood anyway.

The second I stepped off the ice, assistants and staff immediately moved around me carefully like zoo keepers approaching a stressed tiger. By the time I reached the hallway outside the rink, Celeste had already removed her sunglasses, revealing the same sharp gray eyes I unfortunately inherited.

"You embarrassed me again," she said instantly, sucking on her tooth. Typical Celeste Ashford. Always to the point.

I pulled my gloves off slowly. "Nice seeing you too."

Her expression hardened beautifully. "Do you enjoy humiliating this family publicly?"

I laughed out loud with no emotions. "You're an actress, Mom. Public humiliation is basically your natural habitat. Have you seen the latest news you took down? Actor Peterson Kadec is seen in an intimate relationship with Celeste Ashford." I announced with a smile.

Wrong answer! I got her today, because I didn't miss the way her jaw flexed at my announcement. She probably didn't think I would get to know because the news wasn't even up to a minute, yet, I found out. "Aren't you ever tired? That man is slowly losing his mind to cancer and all you think about is going about and ruining his energy. Do you know how hard it has been for him trying to keep himself away from social media paparazzi because you insisted you wanted them to think everything's fine?"

"No!" Celeste interjected, stepping even more closer to me as her face turned cold. "You wouldn't dare turn all of these on me! I h ... I had nothing to do with Peterson." She stuttered.

I rolled my eyes at her way of being defensive. "Really? Do you even have any idea of how I had come about this particular news, ten times this month? So please, fill me in with the 'He's just a colleague thingy of yours."

She clenched her jaw. "What about you? You've been reckless for months," she snapped, turning all of these on me. "Drinking, fighting, tabloids every other weeks-" "It was one fight." "You punched someone through a restaurant window." "He annoyed me." "You were photographed leaving a club at four in the morning with three women." I shrugged lazily. "Only three?"

Her glare hardened. Honestly, antagonizing her had become muscle memory at this point. "I even heard about the escape accident of a little child along Fern's road. Do you understand how much money goes into maintaining your image?" she hissed. "There it is." Her nostrils flared instantly. It wasn't about hockey or me ... just about a freaking image. That was the thing about being Celeste Ashford's son. Everything eventually became publicity management.

I leaned against the wall tiredly. "You done?" "No."

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "NHL scouts are watching you carefully now. One more scandal and sponsors start pulling back." I looked away bored. The truth was hockey used to feel simpler before everyone started turning it into business and headlines and expectations. Which admittedly helped sometimes.

Celeste crossed her arms. "I've already spoken with the university regarding your media situation."

I raised a brow. "My what?"

"You've been impossible with reporters," she continued coldly. "So they're assigning someone directly to cover you this semester." I laughed immediately. Absolutely f*****g not. "No." "That wasn't a request." "I don't babysit journalism students." "You'll cooperate." "Or what?" Her eyes hardened beautifully. "Or I start controlling things you won't like."

The real Celeste was finally showing up! Not America's sweetheart actress.

I stared at her for a long second before smiling coldly. "You really think sending some desperate campus reporter after me is gonna fix my attitude?"

Before she could answer, a hesitant familiar voice suddenly interrupted behind us. "Excuse me .. " I tuned casually ... then stopped moving entirely. I was star strucked. Oh, my pretty liar.

She stood near the hallway entrance holding her notebooks against her chest while snow melted softly into the ends of her dark brown hair from outside. Cute! Nervously cute, maybe. Even from several feet away, I noticed the way her fingers hardened around the notebooks the second my eyes met her hazel eyes. She stared intensely at me like she regretted approaching already.

Last night, I had overlooked her beauty, but standing there in that oversized burgundy sweater with a short dark skirt disappearing into her tights and boots, I couldn't agree less. I must admit, she was flawlessly beautiful, no doubt.

For one brief second, she looked between me and my mother uncertainly before speaking again. "I'm looking for Kane Ashford." She stated, causing me to raise a brow. Looking for Mr. Ysl.

Celeste's attention shifted instantly toward her ... and surprisingly - my mother smiled. Weird. "There you are," Celeste said smoothly. "Zara Reid, right?" The girl froze completely. So did l. Because the pretty liar suddenly looked genuinely confused as I was. "How .. how do you know my name?"

Celeste ignored the question entirely and gestured toward me gracefully. "Ashford," she said, "this is Zara Reid. Your assigned media journalist for the semester."