Page 12 of Waltzing on Ice

My jaw clenches. “That’s not your decision to make.”

He steps closer, lowering his voice. “Daisy, be honest with yourself. Do you really think Finn Sullivan is the kind of man who can help your career? Who can elevate you? You were meant for something greater than this little PR stunt. And we both know how easily Finn burns things down when he gets too close.”

I hate that his words dig under my skin, pricking at the insecurities I try so hard to ignore. But I hate even more that I don’t immediately have a response.

Lucas sees my hesitation and presses on, his voice dropping into something almost gentle. “You don’t have to pretend with me, mon cœur. I know you. I know what you need. And it’s not him.”

Something about the way he says it—the quiet certainty, the familiarity—makes my stomach churn.

Once upon a time, I had believed Lucas knew me. That he understood what I wanted, what I needed. That was before he chose himself over me. Before he made me realize that trusting a partner—on or off the ice—was dangerous.

I take a slow step back, straightening my shoulders. “You don’t know me anymore, Lucas. And you sure as hell don’t get to tell me what I need.”

His expression flickers, just for a second, before he smooths it over with that practiced charm. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself.”

I shake my head, exhaling sharply. “Stay out of my way.”

And without waiting for his response, I turn on my heel and walk back inside, ignoring the way my pulse hammers in my throat.

Because as much as I want to deny it, there’s one thing Lucas got right. Finn does burn things down when he gets too close, but I think I might want the fire.

* * *

The next day, practice is hell. The rink is freezing, but it does nothing to cool the heat still simmering under my skin.

Every time Finn touches me, my heart skips a beat. Every time he looks at me, I feel it like a brand against my skin. He skates too close, his presence a constant reminder of what happened, of what I let happen.

“For fuck’s sake, Daisy,” he snaps when I miss a step for the third time in a row. “Can you focus? Or are you too busy pretending yesterday didn’t happen?”

My head snaps up, fury rising like a tidal wave. “Don’t.”

Finn skates closer, invading my space, his jaw clenched. “Don’t what? Don’t talk about the fact that you couldn’t get enough of me, or don’t point out that you’re the one who ran the second you realized you liked it. That maybe it meant something.”

My stomach twists. “It didn’t mean anything.”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

“Oh, and what about you?” I fire back, my hands curling into fists. “This is just a game to you. A joke. You don’t careabout anything but skating and screwing around, and I won’t be another one of your—”

Finn moves before I can finish, closing the distance between us in one sharp, furious step. “Another what, Daisy?”

I swallow hard, suddenly unsure.

His voice lowers, rough and edged with something almost dangerous. “Another mistake? Another fuck you regret?” He lets out a humorless laugh. “Let me tell you something, sweetheart—you were the one clawing at me like you couldn’t get enough. You were the one moaning my name. You—”

“Shut up,” I whisper, my throat tightening.

Finn shakes his head, stepping back like he’s just done. “You know what? Forget it.”

I blink, my pulse hammering. “Finn—”

“No,” he says, voice cold. “You want to pretend this is nothing? Fine. I’m done trying to convince you otherwise.”

And just like that, he turns and walks away.

I stand there, frozen on the ice, watching him disappear. I guess practice is over.

Chapter Eleven

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