“Are you sure about this?” Seraphina asked, cocking her head up to look at Brandon. “No one knows why we called this press conference. We can go out and tell them about us. We can go out and tell them we’re excited because we’re going to playoffs. We could tell them-“

“Sera,” he said in a gentle voice, cupping her cheek with his palm. “It’s okay. I want to do this.”

Seraphina clenched her jaw. For some reason, she felt like crying, which didn’t make any sense. She bit the inside of her bottom lip, hoping this would keep the tears at bay. She didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not right now. Not when he needed her to be strong for him – whether he realized it or not.

“But everything you sacrificed,” she pushed on. “Everything your mom and your sister sacrificed so you could make it this far in your career. It would be for nothing.”

Brandon gave her a look. “Sera, we’re making playoffs,” he pointed out. “We have the chance to win the Cup this season before Petrov retires, before I-“ He pushed his brows up. “We can do this. You’ve always had faith in me, and even after our worst season ever, we came back and we can have our best season on the books. Because of you. Not anyone else. Not even your grandfather. But because of you.”

Seraphina nodded and pressed her lips together. She took a deep breath and glanced down at the notecards in her hands.

“Ready?” she asked him, looking up.

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

From there, Seraphina and Brandon walked out from the club entrance of Sea Side Ice Palace. They weren’t holding hands but they remained close together. When they reached the podium, the entire media immediately started to take pictures. Seraphina ignored the flashes as she usually did, but she was certain it bugged Brandon to a degree because he wasn’t used to it. Even all the pictures taken during games were easy to ignore, and those done at fan events weren’t this overwhelming. Seraphina stood in front of the podium, Brandon stood behind her, like a protective guardian angel.

“Thank you,” she said into the microphone. The media quieted instantly and Seraphina had to bite back a smile. This was too easy. “I’d like to thank you all for coming. I’m sure you have questions based on Harper Crawford’s article yesterday and you’ll get to ask those in a little bit. However, I do want to come out and address you directly because I feel we’ve had a sort of love-hate relationship the past couple of years where you love to hate me. And, quite frankly, I’m sick of it and I’m sick of taking it.

“I’m sick of showing up to work early and leaving work late and rather than write about my work ethic, you’re wondering if I’m starving myself to stay thin. I’m sick of making amazing pickups and good trades in the off-season and all you care about is whether or not my breasts are real. I’m sick of the fact that three NHL GM’s are former hockey players with no actual college degree and yet I’m being questioned about whether I know the difference between a player’s goals and a player’s points.

“It doesn’t matter that I majored in business and graduated with honors from a university. It doesn’t matter that my grandfather, a man you admired and respected, gave me the team because he thought I could do it. My grandfather, by the way, wasn’t a former hockey player or a college graduate. He wasn’t even from Canada. He never put on a pair of skates. But I guess since he’s a white man with money, that makes him okay. That makes him worth respecting.”

Seraphina rolled her eyes, a blatant show of defiance, taking everyone by surprise. Cameras flashed.

“You have written more articles about my sister like she’s the star of some kind of soap opera,” Seraphina continued. “Who she’s dating, who she’s sleeping with, how Matt Peters’ career went down the drain since breaking up, how it’s been better since being back with the team… You’re so mean that you can’t even keep up with your own headlines. You contradict yourself so much that I have no idea where you’re getting your material from.

“Instead of writing about Dimitri Petrov’s amazing point streak for a forty-two-year-old player, you write about his ex-wife kicking him out of the house,” Seraphina said. “Instead of writing about Alec Schumacher’s scholarship he created himself, you write about the fact that he might be gay because he suddenly stopped dating Gulls Girls. Instead of focusing on the team as a whole, you pick and choose players in order to sell your papers. And I get it. That’s your job. I can respect that. But it’s my job to protect my players. I can’t control what you write, especially when you have someone like Phil Bambridge completely feeding you guys bullshit information.”

There was a gasp in the crowd.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Seraphina said with a snarl. “Did I swear? Was that unladylike within the boundaries of the sport of hockey? I don’t care. If I want to wear skinny jeans and a Batman belt, I’m going to wear that. I don’t care what you write about me anymore. You’re looking like idiots when you focus on my appearance rather than the fact that Brandon Thorpe’s save percentage is 0.945, the highest in the league or the fact that Dimitri Petrov has thirty-seven goals. Or the fact that there’s a damn good chance we’re going to make playoffs for the first time in history.

“So, I’m letting you know, from here on out, I’m not going to play your stupid games. You can believe whatever you want to believe. If you’re going to believe a man trying to stir things up because his lackluster team seems more preoccupied with partying in Vegas than they do with winning hockey games, by all means, go for it. I shouldn’t have to remind you that this is the same man who got arrested on multiple occasions for sexually assaulting different women he quickly paid off to keep their mouths shut. And considering I am the only female GM, considering I have one of the best teams in the NHL, it’s no surprise that Phil Bambridge sees me and The Gulls as a threat. It’s why he’s trying to blackmail me into trading away Brandon Thorpe. It’s why he’s trying to insinuate that I engage in inappropriate relationships with my team. I guess he’s one of those guys who doesn’t understand what the word no truly means. And God forbid he does, it can’t possibly be because he’s a guy I don’t want to be around or engage in business with, it’s because I’m a lesbian or some other reason.” She paused. “And here I thought only privileged men could act professional and refrain from not acting on their emotions.”

The media chuckled and Seraphina rolled her eyes.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, let me do my job and you do yours,” Seraphina said. “I won’t be taking questions today. I just wanted to call this press conference in order to clarify a few points and ensure everyone was on the same page. Thank you for coming out here and for your time.”

With that, she took a step back and Brandon gave her a small grin. It was a grin that carried a secret and he managed to nudge her with his shoulder in a subtle way, where nobody else noticed it. They walked back into the building among journalists shouting out questions and Harper smirking as she wrote down notes in her notebook.

Seraphina didn’t care. Once they were away from the spectators, from the onlookers and gossips, Seraphina grabbed Brandon’s hand and led him to the nearby elevators.

“That was amazing,” he murmured as she pressed the up button. She smiled at him and he kissed the top of her head. “I am so proud of you.”

“This just means we have to be really careful, Brandon,” Seraphina said. “I have no idea if Bambridge is going to release the pictures or not. Regardless, we have to make sure you and I don’t get caught. I would be forced to either trade you, have you retire, or give the team to someone else. I know my uncles want any reason to get their hands on this team, especially since we’re making playoffs.”

“This team will not belong to your uncles,” Brandon promised her, squeezing her hand for emphasis. It was clear in the look he was giving her that he wanted to go more but understood that there were cameras in the elevator and it wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do, especially if they were trying to stay under the radar. “I would retire first before I ever let that happen.”

“Good, because they would ruin you guys, let me tell you,” Seraphina said. The elevator doors slid open, and Seraphina led Brandon out. The offices were completely empty. Unless there was a scheduled game, Seraphina did not require anyone to work on Sunday.

When they reached her office, Seraphina closed the door behind them and drew the blinds. Brandon perked his brow, clearly surprised. “What’s going on?” he asked. “You never close your office door.”

“Yeah, well technically, I’m not working,” she said, stepping into his arms. “We’re going to make playoffs, Mr. Thorpe. For the first time in your career, you’re going to make playoffs. How do you feel right now?”

“Honestly?” he asked, gently perking his brows. Seraphina nodded. “I don’t give a shit about that. I mean, it’s awesome and I’m stoked. I think we can really be a competitive team. But I’m more concerned about you and me. I’m really excited about that more than anything else.”

Seraphina rolled her eyes. “You are such a romantic,” she said.

Brandon shrugged. “I guess you just bring it out in me,” he told her.

“Oh, so it’s my fault?” she asked.

He nodded. “Totally your fault,” he said, pulling her into a kiss. “So, tell me how this is going to work.”

“What?” Seraphina asked.

“You and me,” he said. “I know we’re supposed to be careful but does that mean we can’t date at all? No more brunch at the beach? No more holding your hand as we walk down the boardwalk?”

“I don’t know,” Seraphina said. “It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if Bambridge sends out a PI just to try and get further proof that you and I are an item. But I promised myself I wouldn’t make decisions based on how others perceive me. I can’t live in fear of that and you shouldn’t either.”

“So what should we do, then?” he asked, leaning towards her so his lips were a ghost’s breath away from hers.

“Well, for starters, you can kiss me,” she told him slowly, her eyes never leaving his. “And from there, we’ll take things day by day and see where are in a few months. All I know is that you’re the one I want to be with at the end of the day, Brandon. Not anyone else. You are all that matters to me.”

He smiled – a beaming smile that lit up his entire face and took her breath away – and kissed her once more.