Page 64 of Offside

“I really want to kiss you right now.” He swings his head to glance over his shoulder and then back to me, his voice lowering to a secret hush. “But that will have to wait ‘til tonight.”

“Ballas,” I say, my voice tremoring slightly. “I’ve made some decisions about the management of the organization and they affect you.”

He sits back in his chair, his enthusiasm diminishing and morphing into uncertain curiosity.

“I want to end your player’s contract—”

He doesn’t let me finish. “What the actual fuck, Karis? Why the hell would you do that?” I bristle at his derisive tone and the anger flashing in his eyes.

I slide forward to the edge of my chair, leaning in toward Ballas who is quietly seething.

“Please, hear me out. Let me start over so I don’t botch this up any further.” He sits back with some reluctance, folding his arms across his chest. I inhale and try again. “I know you love playing hockey and you’re under contract. But you’re at a crossroads right now physically. Do you really want to return to the ice with the possibility thatone more hitcould end things for you completely? That your retirement wouldn’t be on your terms?”

He rises to his feet and strides over to the bank of windows, the broad set of his shoulders rising and falling with shallow breaths, and a heavy, awkward silence descends over us.

Shit. I knew this would be difficult for him to get his head wrapped around. I’d hoped he’d listen to my offer and realize my intentions come from a good place. A place in my heart that cares about him as so much more than just a player.

I continue. “Ballas, the offer I want you to consider takes into account the needs of the team and your continued success in the league. Just in a different capacity. I want you to stay with the team.”

He remains with his back to me when he finally speaks, words sharp like knives. “You can’t make this decision for me. It’s my choice, Karis. Not yours. I will end my career when I say it’s over and how I see fit.”

Oh, this man. This stubborn, beautiful man.

I cross the room to face him. We’re inches from one another and I can smell the spicy, soapy scent of his soap, but he might as well be miles away. He keeps his gaze averted and avoids looking at me, his arms crossed defiantly over his chest.

Clasping my hands in front of me, I consider my next words carefully.

“I see so much leadership potential in you, Ballas. I don’t want to lose you.” I pause and catch my breath. “But I want you to stay in the role of the general manager. I want you to replace Nate.”

A loud burst of wry laughter barrels from his chest. “You can’t be serious, Karis. I’m not made to sit in an office, to push paperclips and host lunch meetings.” He crooks his fingers and then pins me with his stormy eyes. “I’m an athlete. I don’t know shit all about managing a hockey team. I make plays out on the ice, not in a fucking boardroom.”

“But for how long?” It comes out as barely a whisper but conveys my deep-rooted concern over Ballas’s health and his ability to play long-term.

He snarls, baring his teeth in a mocking grin. “I’m not in a fucking retirement home wearing adult diapers quite yet, princess.”

Twisting away from me, he stares back out the window. When I find my voice again, I clasp a hand around his thick forearm and tug at him to look at me.

“It’s never too late to reinvent yourself, Ballas.” I cup his scruffy face in my hands, the stubble of his beard scratching my palms. Our eyes lock and I see a flash of something unreadable flittering in his gaze. “Either way, you’ll be retiring soon. And then what? I’m offering you the opportunity to start a new career in a leadership role before you’re forty. Why wait and risk getting really injured? This is a great chance to start that new chapter in your career now and under your own terms.”

He stares down at me for what feels like an eternity.

“You mean, underyourterms,” he sneers, shaking my hands free. “Let’s not forget, you’re the boss.”

I let him go and step back over to my desk where I plunge my hand inside my candy dish again, scooping out a handful of Skittles. I toss them in my mouth one by one, counting down to regain some composure.

I heave a sigh of heaviness in my chest. “It’s not about me, but what’s best for the team and for you.”

Ballas whips around. “Because you think I’m not capable and I’m too old to play. Well, fuck that. I’m still in prime shape and can outplay and outskate any motherfucking guy out there. I don’t need you—a spoiled twenty-something princess who will probably be bored of this job before the season’s out—giving me career advice.”

The pain of those words slices through my heart. I know he’s upset and I shouldn’t take it personally but damn, that hurts.

Ballas turns on his heels and heads to the door. Before he leaves, though, he turns to look at me over his shoulder, hurling another one I never saw coming.

“You can take me out of your potential candidate list and go fuck the next guy on your short list. We’re done here.”

And just like that, the man who told me I could trust him and that he’d have my back has let me down and let his pride get in the way.

It’s clear that I’m just another meaningless hookup on Ballas’s long list of conquests. And I’m the fool who believed I was something else.

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