Page 145 of Offside Devil

There's a pause before… “It’s private.”

“So is the personal information of my employees unless I have a good fucking reason to share it.”

“She’s family,” he finally says. “She’s been missing for a long time. I’m trying to put together a reunion.”

Mira has never breathed a word about her family. And that is not by accident. She aggressively dodges the question anytime it comes up. Now, this guy appears and barely even knows her name?

Whoever he is, family or not, I know for a fact Mira doesn’t want to see him.

“You’re out of luck.”

“I know she works for you.” There’s a dark undertone to his words. An unspoken threat that has my hackles rising.

“She used to work for me,” I lie. “I found her through an agency. Then she let paparazzi get too close to my kid, and I fired her. I haven’t seen her since the day those photos were taken.”

“Do you have her new number? Or her address?” he asks. “Your assistant thought she still lived with you.”

“Don't call this number again.”

“I’m going to find her one way or?—”

I hang up and hand Hanna her phone back before I accidentally crush it in my fist. “If he calls again, don't talk to him. Forward it to me.”

“You don’t want to know why he’s looking for her?” she asks.

“Just forward the calls to me, and—” I clench my jaw. “—don’t tell Mira about this.”

She’s been on edge since all of the articles started popping up online. Things are just starting to ease back to normal. I don’t want to freak her out over nothing.

Besides, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to let that motherfucker anywhere near her.

58

MIRA

“Admit it.” Taylor knocks my hip as we stand outside the locker room in the space reserved for family and friends. “You had fun.”

I roll my eyes. “I never said I wouldn’t have fun. I’m just not into sports the way you are.”

Or the sea of people or being on live television. Or long-lens cameras that can see my pores better than I can.

“Tell that to yourself twenty minutes ago. I thought you were going to jump out of the box and fight with the refs.”

“Only because that penalty wasn’t fair!” I argue. “That other guy was in Zane’s way. What was he supposed to do, not ram him into the boards?”

“Yeah, actually,” Taylor laughs. “That was the point of the penalty. He shouldn’t have done that.”

I wave her off. “Agree to disagree.”

I know she’s probably right, but as Zane skated to the penalty box, he looked up to where I was sitting and winked. I’d have forgiven him for anything in that moment. Hell, he could have shoulder-checked a grandma straight into the ICU and I would’ve been on his side until my final breath.

I really had no idea what was happening the entire game—but I knew Zane looked damn good doing it.

There’s something intensely erotic about watching him hit and pass and whip his way down the ice to score. I can imagine the way his muscles are moving beneath his pads. I know what it sounds like when he’s out of breath and covered in a sheen of sweat and holding his stick and?—

“Oh, here they come!” Taylor stretches onto her toes. “Daniel looks so good in red. He’s such a classic winter—just like you! You should wear more red.”

I glance down at the Angels jersey Zane left on the end of the bed for me. His name is printed in block letters across the back, and I have to bite back a smile.

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