Page 3 of Love on Ice

“Because men in New York have an attention span of a gnat.” Issy sneers.

“Men nowadays can’t deal with strong, successful, independent women,” Kimberly adds.

“How is any of that my fault? I can’t change who I am,” I moan to them.

“And you shouldn’t. But there are a lot of women out there who will do anything to find a rich husband. We don’t have to because we are the rich man,” Issy states.

“Truth,” Kimberly says, clinking her glass with Issy’s.

“Are you saying that because we are too successful, we are never going to find love?” That thought kind of sucks.

“No. But the pools we are fishing in are going to be a lot smaller,” Issy explains.

“Don’t y’all get sick of this constant merry-go-round of dating?” I ask, my shoulders sagging with exhaustion over the entire situation. They both nod in agreement. “I now must start all over again. Get back onto the Manhattan meat market known as dating. I hate it.”

“We are all there with you,” Kimberly adds.

“We should ask if there are going to be any hot European men at the wedding. Because I’m over New York men, maybe we need to leave the island to find a good one,” I tell Kimberly.

“Maybe I should put in some vacation time and meet you in Europe. Did you know Pierre sent my sisters and me an invite to his wedding in Italy?”

“No.” I gasp.

“He thought I would want to go. It was a pity invite sent to us after the funeral. We all declined.”

Pierre St. Pierre broke her heart after becoming a big man on campus for his hockey and was caught screwing puck bunnies behind her back. Pierre’s betrayal devastated and honestly, I was surprised he did something so stupid, but men are easily led by their dicks. Now he’s the biggest star in hockey and is marrying his supermodel girlfriend, Kitty, in Italy. I have my team follow them because I’m not Pierre’s biggest fan. It’s my job working in PR, specializing in influencer marketing, to know who the top earners are, and that is them. Their beautiful faces are plastered everywhere with their picture-perfect home they just built and their gorgeous dog, Frankston, who has over a million followers on his own profile online. She posts images of herself in a bikini when they go on exotic holidays. Then, her in workout gear, andshe is always dressed in a cute outfit when attending one of his games. Honestly, the happy, sappy posts the two of them do of each other make you want to gag. After Pierre broke Issy’s heart, she transferred colleges and decided to go to school in London, far, far away from hockey, Pierre, and her old life. The first time she saw him since college was at her father’s funeral year’s later, and I know seeing him again was hard. Issy has always kept her emotions to herself, I know she’s stuffed her feelings for Pierre deep down inside, and I don’t think she realized how much she never got over him breaking her heart all those years ago until she saw him again.

My phone buzzes and when I look down, I see Josh’s name flash on the screen. I click block for my own peace of mind.

“Europe can’t come fast enough. I don’t know if I can wait till then.” I sigh.

“Why don’t you take a week off and head to The Paradise Club resort? Josh won’t be able to track you down there. You can relax on the beach and get a big boost of vitamin D,” Kimberly says, bursting out laughing at her joke.

“Vitamin D,” Issy says, laughing.

“Paradise always helps to get the mojo back,” Kimberly adds.

She’s not wrong, it’s a sex club island resort where the hottest men in the world hang out or work there. She’s right. That is exactly what I need to get over another cheating asshole. Who needs New York men when I have Paradise?

“Fuck Josh. I’m going to Paradise, ladies!” I declare. “Sun, sex, and cocktails. What else does a woman need?”

3

FELIX

“Felix, get the fuck up,” Issy Alessi, my agent yells at me, pulling open the curtains and letting the light into my bedroom. I hiss like a vampire as the rays hit me. My head is throbbing, and my mouth is full of sand. “Enough is enough. It’s been weeks of you drowning yourself in bottles of tequila and puck bunnies.”

“I don’t have to be anywhere.” I groan, pulling the covers back over me. Issy yanks them off then gasps when she realizes I’m naked underneath.You’re welcome.

“Ew. Get dressed, we need to talk right now,” she says sternly, and I can tell from her tone she is serious.

Shit.

Reluctantly, I get up out of bed, have a shower, and eventually come downstairs into the kitchen where she’s prepared breakfast for me of eggs and bacon with a side of coffee.

“Eat,” she says, pushing the plate at me. I dig in. “Did you know I was summoned into the offices of your new bosses at the Manhattan Mavericks this morning?” I swallow slowly. Oh shit. “They are not happy with you and your antics.” It’s the off-season. Most players go a little wild, my drinking and partying shouldn’t be a cause for worry. “This week’s video of you getting a blow job in the VIP area of a club was the last straw.”

“What? She told me she was with the make a wish foundation and her wish was to blow me. You told me I needed to do more charity.”

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