Page 1 of His Reward
CHAPTER ONE
Lucien
There was nothing on earth I loved more than the ice. I loved the way it caressed my skate blades, providing tension and release together as I flew through the last footwork section of my long program. The way it was slick and seemed to moan as I cut across and marked it with precision placement of every movement. The dramatic music I’d fought to use for the all-important program swelled toward its emotional climax, and the ice hummed under me as I shifted to crossovers to gain speed for my last triple-triple combination.
The ice could be a cruel bastard when I fell, bruising my body as effectively as any paddle or flogger, but as I launched into the triple lutz, then hammered into the triple toe-loop, falling was the farthest thing from my mind. I nailed the combo, and the audience burst with applause as I powered on to center ice for my final, satisfying spin combination.
I knew when I came out of the spin and hit my final pose that the gold was mine. The audience told me as much when theyswelled with adulation, applauding and calling out in a way that echoed the triumphant joy that pulsed through me.
I’d done it. After years of intense training under my father, the legendary Pietro Monteverdi and brother, Marco, also a champion in his own day in the male alpha category, I’d skated the routine of my life and nailed every element. Bronze last year at Nationals due to a highly publicized fall in the short program, silver the year before, but now I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would be standing on the top of the podium this year.
I broke my pose and instantly softened my stance, beaming at the audience and waving in one direction, then turning to smile and blow kisses in the other before skating for the edge of the ice. I was the last competitor of the night, so there was no one waiting to take the ice in my place. That ice was all mine and would stay that way until the alphas came on to compete the next day.
“Well done,” my father said in his usual stoic manner as I went from gliding across the ice to stomping somewhat awkwardly on the matting on the other side of the boards. “That was more like it.”
I kept my smile in place, turning back to wave to the arena once more and receiving applause for it, but my father’s cool reception nearly undid in an instant what I’d spent a good five minutes, no, a lifetime, building up to.
“He had a wobble on the quad,” Marco said offhandedly as I put on my skate guards and as we were ushered over to the kiss-and-cry area to receive my scores.
It took everything I had to keep my look of elation in place. Of course Marco would complain about something as miniscule as fighting for the landing of that quad. I was one of only a few male omegas currently on the competitive circuit who could cleanly land a quad in competition. Marco was an alpha and only a fewyears past his competitive prime, but he hadn’t once landed any sort of quad at all, let alone an axel.
We made it to the kiss-and-cry with the cameras following us. Someone handed me a much-needed bottle of water as Father and Marco took seats on the bench with me between them. The usual chatter of the press and other coaches barely made it into my awareness as I caught sight of the replay of some of my best moments from the routine playing on the Jumbotron above the ice. I looked good. Not just my form either. I was considered the pretty boy of the omega figure skating circuit with my dazzling, blond-haired-blue-eyed good looks.
Off to the side, I just barely caught a commentator saying, “A win today will clinch Monteverdi’s place in the Winter Games, which will be held in Barrington this coming February. It will be fantastic to have a home-town boy competing on the world stage, and if you ask me, with a routine like what we just saw, Monteverdi is clearly the male omega to beat.”
As if in answer to that comment, my scores showed up on the monitor in front of us and on the Jumbotron. Two-eighteen-point-six-four.
The crowd went wild. I broke into a broad, bright smile, standing from the bench and waving to the gracious crowd, blowing a few kisses as I did. I even threw a signature fist-pump in the air, which made the applause swell even louder.
“What have I said about showing off?” my father grumbled behind me in his old-world accent.
I glanced back over my shoulder briefly as Father and Marco both rose, their smiles tight and self-satisfied. The least they could do was be genuinely happy for me. They were definitely both happy, but the way Marco especially waved to the crowd as if he’d been the one to put up a nearly record-breaking score said it all.
“Lucien, can we have you over here for a quick word?” one of the press handlers called out.
I gave the crowd one last wave and moved to the side, out of the spotlight and into the nearby hall, where the wall was painted with the logos of all the massive, corporate sponsors of the night’s events. Of course, Father and Marco moved with me, sticking close and making certain they were in the shot once the interview cameras started rolling.
“Lucien, tonight’s performance was amazing,” the bouncy, beta journalist who had become a fixture on the figure skating circuit began her interview. “Your jumps tonight were on fire, and you seemed to be having a lot of fun out there.”
“What can I say, Jennifer?” I said with a broad smile for Jenn, then one for the camera. “I love skating more than anything in the world. That makes it easy to leave everything I have on the ice.”
Before Jenn could ask another question, Father nudged me slightly out of the center of the shot and said, “We’ve been training hard for years. Lucien puts in the work, day in and day out. We all do.”
Jennifer’s camera-perfect smile faltered almost imperceptibly. She knew, everyone knew, just how overbearing Pietro Monteverdi was and always has been. “Your victory tonight guarantees you a place on the national team for the Winter Games in Barrington in three months,” Jenn went on, focusing on me. “How does it feel to know you’ll be representing the nation on the world stage, and that you’ll be favored for the gold?”
I kept things light and gracious as I smiled directly at the camera and said, “I’m so proud to represent the home team. I owe everything to you guys who have had so much faith in me over the years. Love you!” I kissed my fingers and threw the kiss out to everyone who would be watching at home.
Jenn asked a few more questions that I answered without giving it much thought, then Father and Marco swept me off to prepare for the medal’s ceremony.
“You need to stop making a fool of yourself by whoring yourself out to the cameras like that,” Father said once we were out of the spotlight, in the corner of one of the dressing rooms. “You’re an omega. You need to behave with decorum.”
“What?” I snapped my head up from where I’d sat down to change out of my skates and into shoes. “I was just expressing my gratitude to the cameras. I wasn’t whoring.”
Believe me, I knew whoring. Unbeknownst to Father or Marco, or anyone else in the family, whoring was my other favorite activity besides skating. I’d had a membership in the Dark Fantasies Club going back to when I was nineteen and an itch to be the subbiest sub who ever subbed that ran so deep I really would be in trouble with Father if he ever found out.
Fortunately, as a public figure, I was super careful, and the Dark Fantasies Club was uber-strict about confidentiality. Father would never find out.
“You’re a serious competitor,” Father reminded me as he hurried me through a little last-minute prep to freshen me up for the medal’s ceremony. “You have a legacy to uphold. Your brother was a champion—” on the national level, never the world stage, “—and I was a champion. We take this sport seriously, not like the frivolous hot-shots who hog the camera and fall in their free program.”
