She twisted her lips. We’d only met this morning, but she could tell that I was off after the press conference.
“Let it go, Bristol. It wasn’t personal.”
I shook my head. “You can either help me, or I can ask Braxton. But I’d rather not have him digging into my motives.”
Alyssa sighed. “What are you hoping to accomplish by going up there? Not to mention that level doesn’t have press access. You get caught, and you’re toast. Game over.”
“This is just something I have to do. Trust me.” I pleaded with her with my eyes, hoping she could see that I wouldn’t be deterred.
“Fine,” she huffed. “Only certain elevator banks go to that floor, and usually, they require badge access. You might catch a lucky break that they’re disabled today with only internal staff and press in the building, but if not, you’ll have to forget it.”
I let that information settle for a minute before I asked, “Do players have access?”
The way her eyes cut to the side told me they did. If I couldn’t get up there myself, I would be forced to beg Braxton for help. I wasn’t sure how I would get around answering his questions about why I needed to get up there. But I was quick on my feet. I would figure it out.
“Please don’t get caught.” Alyssa sighed. “It’s lonely being the only woman on the press team. I could really use a friend.”
I gave her a small smile. “I’ll be fine.” Well, I would be, so long as I could get Maddox alone in a room and convince him to pretend like we’d never met. That was the only way this would work, allowing me to keep my job.
She lifted a finger, pointing down the corridor behind me. “Take a left after the home locker room. The elevators beside the training room are the ones you need. Fifth floor.”
The weight that had settled over my chest since I recognized Maddox in the press room eased just a fraction. “Thank you.”
Alyssa looked skyward. “Just hope I don’t come to regret it.”
Leaning in, I gave her a quick hug before turning in the direction she indicated. I peeked over my shoulder to ensure no one noticed I was leavingthe group. So far, so good.
Thankfully, I didn’t cross paths with a single soul, and the elevators were indeed unlocked. Pressing the button to take me to the fifth floor, I leaned against the brushed nickel wall as it began its ascent. When I reached my destination, a soft ding sounded, and the doors slid open to reveal a whole row of offices.
Stepping lightly, I passed each one, noting most doors were closed, which worked to my advantage in avoiding discovery. The fourth door held a nameplate with Maddox’s name. The door was cracked open, and I held my fist up, pausing before bringing it down on the wood and announcing my arrival. A small part of me hoped he wasn’t inside—the cowardly part that wasn’t ready to own up to last night’s actions—but I forced myself to knock anyway.
“Come in,” that silky-smooth voice called from the other side.
Exhaling deeply, I pushed inside to the view of Maddox from behind as he stood, staring out a pane-glass wall overlooking the main rink of Speed Arena below. A practice rink was settled beneath, keeping all activities and offices here instead of in another location.
His head turned enough to catch me in his periphery, and he hummed before returning his gaze to the empty arena.
Latching the door behind me, I approached where he stood, mindful to keep my body on the opposite side of his desk.
“What can I do for you, Miss Cooper?” The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees at his icy tone.
“I thought we should talk about how last night comes into play with our professional relationship.”
He spun around so fast that I took a step back in surprise. “And what exactly is our professional relationship, Miss Cooper?”
Clasping my hands together in front of my hips, I said, “The one where I’m a member of the press covering the Speed, and you’re their head coach.”
Maddox reached a hand up to run it through his hair, but when he encountered the gel that held it in place, he dropped it, clenching the fist by his side. He scoffed. “Communications.”
He was referring to my vague answer from last night when he’d asked about my profession.
Before I could say anything, he asked, “Is that why you didn’t want to share names?”
His distrust in me was palpable, but I needed to set a few things straight.
“No.” I shook my head. “This job is important to me. I would never have gone out of my way to jeopardize it before it even began.”
Carefully, he assessed me. First, he searched my eyes for any hint that I might be lying. Then, he took his time scanning my form from head to toe, eyes lighting with that same fire they’d held last night. Finally, those blazing green gems returned to my face, and I could feel the heat rising. He might be all wrong for me—sleeping with him could very well mean career suicide—but there was no denying I was attracted to him, even now.
