Page 35 of Ice Devil

There were two office pools going around. One that I’d end up being in the news for slicing his heart out. The other that by the end of the year we’d be married.

Only one option lingered in my mind with glorious, bloody details.

He chuckled as if somehow, we were best buddies. He crowded my space, which wasn’t difficult since I had ownership of a cube. At least I had a view to kill for, the bright lights of the big city staring at me through the plate glass window. Another reminder of the life I should be enjoying while still in my twenties.

“Why is it that you’re always so difficult to work with?” The question was tossed out casually, as if I was the problem.

“You can ask any of my colleagues that question. They’ll happily tell you I’m the nicest person on the floor. Now, since I have an article to finish as my boss is a slavedriver, what is it that you could possibly need? And don’t you have some blonde bimbo to rush home to?”

I knew better. He wasn’t involved, his fear of commitment as strong as his desire to take over the CEO position one day.

“Tawny will wait.”

Tawny. The name was perfect. Maybe I was a little jaded, but with his promotion had also come a need to bed only women he considered subordinate to him. I sat back, tapping my pen on the desk. “Then what do you need?”

“Your article is trending.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” Yeah, I had along with the thousands of comments the piece had obtained, both good and bad.

“Well, you should pay more attention to social media,” he suggested. “It is your bread and butter. Of course right now anything revolving around hockey sells.”

My boss was right about that. The crazy love was more insane than I’d realized. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Did you take any pictures?”

“I was writing a print article. Remember?”

“Yes, but you are also required to post on our Facebook and Instagram pages at minimum. Videos wouldn’t hurt either.”

“Don’t we have a media department?” I knew exactly what he was going to say.

With his head cocked, he offered the same slow grin as the day I’d met him so long before in a little coffee shop in Soho. “I was told you didn’t send them any snippets, any art. Nothing.”

I threw my head back while turning in my chair. “I’ve been a little busy trying to catch up. I’ll start taking pictures.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Now, I have a question for you.”

“Of course you do. What?”

“Why didn’t you discuss the fact the Kendrick brothers are shifters?”

“Because I was writing an article on their talent, not their DNA.”

“You are aware the two brothers are beasts in disguise. Right?”

I’d known the man was jaded about sports, a purist as so many shifter haters liked to call themselves, but never had the fact that shifters played sports come into a single article. Not once. I was surprised he’d been tasked with handling the sports reporters, but my gut told me he was being groomed for the paper’s editor.

“I’m aware, but I wasn’t penning a piece on their extracurricular activities. My article was about their phenomenal success in the world of hockey. Now that I’ve seen them play, I have to agree they are both very talented.”

I’d seen Matt react to various pieces of news, arguing his point without flinching. We’d sparred over athletes, even to the point of yelling by the end of the conversation. I’d never seen him so quiet, the sudden silence unnerving.

“The truth is that the only reason they are in the NHL is because they use their special talents. Now, while it seems there are people including coaches and other professionals willing to look the other way or to suggest they don’t use their curse of being monsters to their benefit, the fact is they do.”

There was something very troubling about not only what he’d said, but how he’d made the statement. I rose to my feet, purposely backing away. When I was able to lean against the window, I folded my arms. “So you’re suggesting all shifters, no matter what sport, are involved in acts of cheating.”

He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, nodding as he did. “You could look at it that way. We have a responsibility to discover the truth.”

“Since when did we become basic paparazzi?” I tossed it out there on purpose.