Page 50 of Power Play

“Nothing to say?” Duke clips out, shoving the cell phone into his jeans pocket with a look of disgust. “Or did you get it all out in this article?”

Weakly, I whisper, “It’s not what it looks like.”

The oldest line in the book, and yet I can think of nothing else to say.

“No?” Duke shakes his head. “You know what’s the fucked up part about this, Charlie? It’s not the goddamned article and the fact that you’ve dragged two people down with you in your quest for fame. No, it’s the fact that even while Iknewyou only wanted me for information, I didn’t give a damn and still went after you anyway.”

My lips part on a shaky exhale. “I’m not sure that I understand.”

“Are you serious?” Another shake of his head, like he honestly can’t believe that I’m this naïve.

Newsflash: apparently I am because I have zero clue as to what he’s talking about.

“Contrary to popular belief,” he says in a low, frustrated tone, “I don’t sleep with every woman that comes my way. Maybe I did when I was eighteen and a rookie, but as you’ve pointed out frequently enough, I’m old.”

“You’re not old, Duke.”

“Don’t even play that game.” He waves away my protest with a slash of his hand. “You intrigued me. Youstillintrigue me, and I’m a fool for letting myself think that you weren’t after something more when you approached me.”

Up until this point, I’ve been a very quiet participant in this conversation. The initial shock threw me, and so did the realization that Josh had betrayed every sort of professional line that should never be crossed. But listening to Duke now . . . I jump into the confrontation, verbal fists up swinging.

I am, through a messed up twist of fate, at fault in this situation. Still doesn’t give him a reason to call me a gold-digger, though.

I fly toward him, my index finger at the ready to jab at his wide chest. “Don’t play that with me, Duke Harrison. Sure, I pursued you for the sake of an article. Youknewthat. But the article is not the reason that I agreed to get pizza with you, nor is it the reason why I let you make love to me on a hotel rooftop. Or—”

Duke’s eyes narrow and I physically take a step back. I actually fear the fury heating their blue depths. When he speaks, his voice seethes. “We didn’t ‘make love,’ Charlie. We fucked. It was gritty and hot, but make no mistake . . . I don’t love you.”

The words hurt more than they should, forming like little shards of ice to puncture my heart. I shouldn’t have . . . My eyes slam shut. I know that it’s too soon for love. I get all of that. But hearing the nature of our relationship translated into nothing but base crudity is a ragged burn I did not expect.

So, I lie and I lie thoroughly, desperate to protect my bleeding heart. “I don’t love you either,” I tell him, irrationally wanting to hurt him as much as he’s carelessly hurt me. “I couldn’t love a man who hates what he does, and yet pretends to the world that that’s not the case.”

Pure silence.

For a moment, Duke does nothing but stare at me. “Excuse me?” he finally bites out, sounding angrier than even seconds earlier.

I promptly stick my foot in my mouth by saying theutterlywrong thing at theutterlywrong time. “You want to get on my case about this article?” I demand, pointing at his jeans pocket where he’s stashed his phone. “Fine, do that. But don’t pretend for one second that you don’t understand what I’m talking about. You hate hockey . . . don’t you.”

A tick pulses to life in his square jaw. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I saunter toward him, warming up to the idea of having the tables turned away from me. “That’s the real reason you’ve been slacking on the ice, and it has nothing to do with skill. You’ve been purposely doing poorly, in the hope that the Blades won’t re-sign you at the end of this season.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think so.”

He scoffs harshly. “I wouldn’t be a fuck-up like that on the ice, Charlie. Nice try at averting the original topic—namely, you betraying my trust by spilling out this secret to all of America.”

As much as I want to beg his forgiveness, I can see it in his gaze that he has no plans of accepting an apology from me anytime soon. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you the truth, which is that I didn’t submit that article toTMZ. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“But you’d do it to Gwen?” he prods. “For what? Jealousy’s sake?”

“I’m not jealous. I have no interest in emulating Gwen.”

“Really.” He says it like he doesn’t believe me one bit.

---