Page 5 of Heartless Game

Her soft brown eyes had darkened, her breathing accelerated. Was she fantasizing about me, too? No way. Tovah Kaufman wasn’t a prude, but there was no way she’d want it as rough as I wanted to give it to her.

Before I could entertain that intriguing, terrifying thought further, a throat cleared.

Glancing over, I spotted Coach Philip. He’d replaced our former coach, Joshua Jensen, after he’d died. From what I knew, Coach Philip had coached for Harvard before coming here and was considered the best hockey coach in the NCAA. I wasn’t sure how much Reina had paid him to convince him to leave Cambridge, Massachusetts for Gehenom, New York, but it had to have been a fortune. He seemed like a good guy—if a hardass. He pushed us harder in practice than our former coach had, and didn’t take any shit. He’d also enforced a “no partying before game day” rule, which pissed off some of the guys. But not me. I wasn’t afraid of a little hard work, not if it meant we won the Frozen Four and I could prove to myself that I was meant for hockey. That I was meant for the lights of the arena, not my father’s darkness.

The second you graduate, your life belongs to this family, my father sneered in my head.

I shoved the dark thoughts about my future away, focusing on the present.

“Hi, Coach,” I greeted with a charming smile.

“Jones. Ms. Kaufman,” he greeted both of us, surprising me that not only did he know Tovah’s name already, but that he’d said it with such respect. Yeah, shewasReina’s sports editor, but he hadn’t been here long enough to be familiar with her. Regardless, hearing her name in his mouth, even her last name, even with only respect and no innuendo, pissed me the fuck off. I was the only one who got to call her Ms. Kaufman, even if I only said it to annoy her.

My hands tightened into fists, and I had to force myself to relax them.

“Ms. Kaufman, is there something you needed?” he asked.

Tovah exhaled slowly, turning to look at Coach. “I was askingMr. Jonesif he was able to finally find time in his schedule to be interviewed for a feature on the Kings.”

“And I was giving her some helpful advice on her approach,” I added cheerfully.

“Hmm,” Coach Philip said. To me, he barked, “Jones, locker room.”

Fuck. He must have seen through me. I was about to be reamed out, and it was completelyMs. Kaufman’sfucking fault.

Pissed, I leaned down and whispered in her ear, “You’re getting nothing from me, littlesnoop.”

This time, the insult must have hit, because her face went white, and her eyes narrowed. I should’ve felt satisfied, but there was just a sick, angry feeling in my chest. Because I wanted to give her something—my cock shoved down her throat, in her pussy, or so far up her ass she’d feel me forever…

With that fucked-up image haunting me as much as Tovah did, I followed Coach Philip into the locker room, where the rest of the team waited. Multiple players slapped me on the shoulder, congratulating me on the winning shot. My friends watched me, Judah smirking and Levi staring like he could read my every thought. When I joined them at my locker, Jack looked like he was about to say something, opening his mouth before shaking his head.

“What?” I snapped.

“That,” he said. “This surly, sullen shit isn’t like you.”

“Girl trouble,” Judah offered.

“Nah,” I said, forcing an easy smile.

Before they could push me further, Coach interrupted once again.

“Good game, all. You worked together as a team, which is what we need, especially in the face of this increased scrutiny. For those of you who are juniors and seniors, this means that scouts are going to be extra critical. Anythinganyof us can do to re-establish the team in a good light will benefit the team and your teammates.” He looked at me meaningfully.

Shit.Even though I would never get to play hockey professionally—my father had seen to that when we made our deal —I still wanted my team and friends to get the futures they deserved.

“Alright.” Coach cleared his throat. “Feldman, the press are waiting for you. Jones, my office.”

“What’s that about?” Judah asked.

I shrugged. “Maybe he wants to congratulate me on a good game,” I said, forcing a laugh and a grin.

But my gut sank as I followed Coach Philip into what was now his office. All traces of Coach Jensen were gone, like he’d never existed, which was for the best. The office was stark, except for a few photos on the wall of our new coach with his arm around a man and two young boys.

He watched me, like he expected me to be some homophobic douchebag. “Problem?”

“Absolutely not, sir. Nice looking family.”

He made ahmphsound, but my response must have satisfied him because he changed the subject.

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