Page 6 of Waltzing on Ice

Lucas smirks. “I don’t think, Sullivan. I know.”

My jaw tightens. “Then know this, Daisy isn’t some pawn you get to mess with just because you lost your shot with her.”

His expression barely flickers. “I never wanted her. She was simply a quick way to get to what I wanted.”

I take another step, invading his space the way I do on the ice—dominant, unwavering. “Let me make this real simple for you, Moreau. You don’t talk to her. You don’t look at her. And if you so much as breathe in her direction with anything other than respect, I’ll make damn sure you regret it.”

Lucas chuckles, unbothered, but his fingers tighten around his glass. “Ah, so you’re the knight in shining armor now?” He tilts his head, eyes gleaming.

My fists clench, but before I can answer, movement to my left catches my eye. Daisy. Her shoulders are tense, her lips pressed together, and I know instantly that she’s been listening.

“Daisy—”

But she’s already turning away, her spine rigid as she weaves through the ballroom.

I mutter a curse and shove past Lucas without another glance.

I find her near the edge of the dance floor, pretending to be deeply invested in her champagne. She never really drinks it, but tonight I’ve seen her finish several glasses.

“Dance with me,” I say, not asking.

She lets out a humorless laugh. “Not really in the mood to perform.”

I take the flute from her fingers and set it aside. Then, before she can protest, I slide a hand to her waist and pull her gently onto the floor. She stiffens but doesn’t pull away. Not yet.

“What’s wrong?” I murmur, leading her effortlessly into the slow rhythm of the music.

Her eyes stay locked on my chest. “I didn’t enjoy hearing you and Lucas talk about how he never loved me. Did you get any ammunition to use against me?”

My grip on her waist tightens instinctively. “That’s not what that was.”

She finally looks up, hazel eyes sharp. “No?”

“No.” I guide her into a turn, pressing my palm to the small of her back as I pull her closer. She inhales sharply, the tension between us shifting, twisting into something heavier. Something I hadn’t prepared for.

“I don’t think about you like that, Daisy.” My voice is rougher than I intended. “Not even close.”

She swallows hard, something flickering behind her gaze. And just like that, I become acutely aware of everything—theway her body fits against mine, the delicate rise and fall of her breath, the warmth of her skin beneath my fingertips.

This is different. Not like when we skate, when every touch is rehearsed, every movement part of a carefully crafted performance. This feels real.

Daisy must feel it too because she exhales shakily, fingers curling slightly against my shoulder. “Finn…”

I should step back, make a joke, and break the tension before it spirals into something we can’t take back. Instead, I tighten my hold and murmur against her ear, “You sure you want to keep pretending this is fake?”

She doesn’t answer. And for the first time since this whole arrangement started, I’m not sure I want her to.

Chapter Six

Daisy

I regret every drop of last night’s champagne as I push through the fourth hour of training. My head throbs in time with the music, my muscles ache, and my stomach churns with every sharp movement. I don’t get hangovers—I don’t allow myself to get them—but everything that’s happened in the last few weeks has sent me off the edge.

“You’re slow today, Daisy,” Finn calls out, skating backward effortlessly while I struggle to keep up. “Did all that champagne finally melt your ice queen exterior?”

I shoot him a glare, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a response.

He grins. “Careful, princess. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you enjoyed letting loose last night.”

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