Page 89 of Faking the Shot
Kaden
The Fake Shot That Scored
The camera lens feels like it’s boring a hole straight through my skull. For a guy who spends half his life in the spotlight, you’d think I’d be better at this by now. But no. I’d rather be on the ice, dodging a slapshot aimed at my face, than doing this.
Valentina sits beside me, her posture straight, her hands folded neatly in her lap, and her expression carefully neutral. Professional, composed. But I know her well enough by now to see the cracks—the way her fingers tap lightly against her knee, the way she’s biting the inside of her cheek.
She’s nervous. Probably more than I am.
Which is why I’m going to fix this. For both of us.
The reporter leans forward, her smile the kind that could cut glass. “So, Kaden, there’s been a lot of speculation about your relationship with Valentina. Care to set the record straight?”
I glance at Valentina, and for a second, the chaos fades. She’s beautiful, even when she’s pretending not to care that the world is dissecting her every move. Her hair is pulled back, her blouse crisp and perfect, and her eyes—God, those eyes—are darting between me and the reporter like she’s bracing for an explosion.
I take her hand, ignoring the way she stiffens at the unexpected gesture. “Of course,” I say, turning back to the reporter. “It’s a simple story, really. We met at a coffee shop a few days after I moved to Boston.”
Valentina’s head snaps toward me, her eyes wide.
The reporter’s interest piques immediately. “A coffee shop? How romantic. Tell us more.”
I grin, leaning back in my chair like this is the easiest thing in the world. “It was trivia night. I wasn’t even planning to go, but I ended up sitting next to her. She was wearing this ridiculously oversized scarf—looked like she’d gotten into a fight with a yarn shop and lost.”
Valentina’s lips twitch, and I know she’s fighting a smile.
“She was scribbling answers like her life depended on it, barely sparing me a glance,” I continue. “And me, being the cocky guy I am, decided to ‘help.’” I use air quotes, earning a soft chuckle from the reporter.
“And did she appreciate your help?”
“Oh, absolutely not,” I say, laughing. “She looked at me like I’d just insulted her grandmother. But she was so quick with her comebacks, so clever—it was impossible not to be drawn to her.”
Valentina’s cheeks flush, and she drops her gaze to the floor, pretending to adjust her bracelet.
“We ended up teaming up,” I add, pulling out my phone. “And, well, I actually have a picture from that night.”
I swipe through my photos until I find the one—Valentina with her trivia sheet, her tongue poking out in concentration while I’m leaning over, smirking at the camera. I hand the phone to the reporter, who coos over the image.
“This is adorable,” she says, holding the phone up for the camera crew to capture.
I shrug, playing it cool. “What can I say? She’s adorable.”
Valentina’s hand tightens around mine, and when I glance at her, there’s a faint sheen in her eyes.
“But what about the rumors that your relationship started after you hired her as your publicist?” the reporter presses.
Ah, there it is. The question we all knew was coming.
I lean forward, my tone shifting to something softer, more serious. “Let me be clear. When Valentina agreed to work with me, we made it a point to keep business and personal matters separate. She’s a consummate professional, and her reputation is important to me. But the truth is, we were already together before she became my publicist.”
The reporter’s eyes widen slightly, and the room seems to hold its breath.
“We kept our relationship private for a while because, well, it was new, and we wanted to focus on each other without the noise,” I say, my gaze drifting to Valentina. “And honestly? It was the best decision we could’ve made. Being with her has been the most grounding experience of my life.”
Valentina’s eyes glisten, and she swallows hard, her grip on my hand trembling just slightly.
“Look,” I say, turning back to the reporter, “people are going to talk. That’s fine. But what Val and I have is real. She’s not just my publicist. She’s my partner. My best friend. The person who makes me want to be better, on and off the ice.”
The reporter smiles, clearly charmed. “That’s beautiful, Kaden. Do you have anything to add, Valentina?”
