Chapter 14
Lexi
I wake up with a start, my heart racing and my cheeks flushed. The dream lingers, vivid images of Gio's hands, his lips, his...everything. I groan, burying my face in my pillow. Great. Now I'm having sex dreams about the guy I'm supposed to be objectively reporting on.
This is not good.
I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering sensations before I can even think of making an attempt to get out of my bed. But my cell beats me to it.
It buzzes, mercifully yanking me out of my hormonal tailspin. It's a news alert: "CHICAGO BLADES SECURE PLAYOFF SPOT!"
Well, well, well.
Looks like Gio and the boys have something to celebrate. And me? I've got a whole new angle for my article. Assuming I can string two words together without thinking about last night's kiss. Or this morning's dream. Or…
Nope. Not going there.
I drag myself out of bed, stumbling toward the coffee maker like it's a lifeline. As I wait for the sweet, sweet caffeine to kick in, I scroll through my notifications. Texts from Sophie, emails from my editor, and...a missed call from my boss.
Crap.
I take a fortifying sip of coffee and hit the redial button, praying he's in a good mood.
"Brookes! About time you called back. I was starting to think you'd gone native out there in Seattle."
I force a laugh, trying to sound casual. "Just doing my job, Charlie. You know, embedded journalism and all that."
"Right, right. So, what've you got for me? Any juicy tidbits on our favorite bad boy?"
I freeze, my mind suddenly blank.
Juicy tidbits?
Oh, I've got those all right. Like how Gio's lips taste like mint and something uniquely him. Or how his hands feel when they're cupping my face. Or how hard his…
"Brookes? You still there?"
I clear my throat, snapping back to reality. "Yeah, sorry. Just, uh, organizing my thoughts. You know, there's a lot to process."
"I bet," he says, and I can practically hear his eyes roll through the phone. "Look, kid, I need something concrete. De Luca's temper tantrums on the ice aren't news anymore. I need the real dirt. What makes him tick? What's he hiding?"
My stomach churns, and it's not just the subpar hotel coffee. "I'm working on it. These things take time, you know? Can't rush the process."
He sighs, and I wince at the disappointment in his voice. "Time is money, Brookes. And right now, you're costing me both. I gave you this assignment because I thought you could handle it. Don't make me regret that decision."
"I won't," I promise, even as guilt gnaws at my insides. "I'll have something for you soon. Scout's honor."
As soon as I hang up, I flop back onto the bed, groaning. What the hell am I doing? I'm supposed to be writing a hard-hitting exposé, not playing tonsil hockey with my subject.
My phone buzzes again, this time with a text from Sophie:
"Hey, boss lady! Got some intel for you. Call me when you can. It's juicy ??"
I hit dial before I can talk myself out of it.
"Lexi!" Sophie's chipper voice fills the line. "How's Seattle? Did you see the news about the playoffs? Isn't it exciting?"
I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "Yeah, Soph, it's great. But what's this intel you've got for me?"
"Oh, right!" I can practically hear her bouncing in her seat. "So, you know Parker Altman? That slimy reporter from the sports desk?"
My stomach drops. Parker's been gunning for my job since day one. "Yeah, what about him?"
"Well, I overheard him talking to his buddy in accounting. Apparently, he's been digging into Gio's past. Like, way back. Childhood stuff, family drama, the works."
I sit up straight, suddenly alert. "What kind of stuff?"
"I'm not sure exactly," Sophie admits. "But he seemed pretty excited about whatever he found. I thought you should know."
My blood runs cold. This is exactly what I've been trying to avoid. If Parker gets his hands on any damaging information about Gio, he'll run with it.
He won't give a damn if he exposes Gio in the process.
"Thanks, Sophie," I say, my mind racing. "Keep an ear out, will you? Let me know if you hear anything else."
"Will do, boss! Oh, and Lexi?"
"Yeah?"
"Be careful, okay? I know you and Gio have this whole antagonistic thing going on, but...he's not a bad guy. Not really."
I swallow hard, thinking of last night's kiss. Of the vulnerability in Gio's eyes when he talked about his family. "Yeah, Soph. I know."
As soon as I hang up, I'm pacing the room like a caged animal. This changes everything. I need to find out what Parker knows and shut him down before he can do any real damage.
The journalist in me says to follow the lead, to dig deeper and find out what Parker's been working on uncovering. It could be the story of a lifetime.
But the part of me that's gotten to know Gio—the real Gio, not just the bad boy of hockey—balks at the idea. He's trusted me with parts of himself he's never shown anyone else. Can I really betray that trust? And if I don't, will it end up costing me my job?
I grab my laptop, fingers hovering over the keys.
I should be writing up notes for the upcoming televised feature. Should be following up on Parker's leads. Should be doing anything other than thinking about Gio's smile or the way he looked at me after the game last night.
Instead, I find myself Googling "ethical journalism" and "conflict of interest in reporting".
Because nothing says professional like a crisis of conscience mid-assignment.
A knock at the door startles me out of my ethical spiral. I open it to find Gio, dark-haired and green-eyed, leaning against the doorframe, looking unfairly amazin in jeans and a Blades T-shirt. My traitorous heart skips a beat.
"Morning, sunshine," he grins. "Thought you might need this." He holds up a cup of coffee—the good stuff from the café down the street, not the swill from the hotel lobby.
I narrow my eyes, even as I accept the offering. "What's the catch, De Luca? You trying to bribe the press?"
"Me? Never. Can't a guy bring coffee to his favorite pain-in-the-ass reporter without ulterior motives?"
"Not in my experience," I mutter, but I can feel a smile tugging at my lips. "Come on in. But no funny business, got it? I'm working."
Gio raises an eyebrow as he follows me into the room. "At ten a.m. on a Monday? Someone's gunning for employee of the month."
I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the way my heart races when he sits next to me on the bed. "Some of us take our jobs seriously, you know. We can't all make a living chasing a rubber disc around."
"Well, shit. And here I thought we were making progress." He looks over at my open laptop. "Speaking of which...whatcha doing?"
"Just some research for work," I say, trying to keep my voice even as I close my laptop.
Gio quirks an eyebrow at me, clearly not buying it. "Sure, you are." He crosses his arms over his chest and studies me intently. "You okay?"
I let out a shaky breath, swallowing down this morning's guilt. "Yeah, just stressed about this assignment."
He reaches over to tuck a messy strand of hair behind my ear. "Well, don't worry. You're the best damn reporter I know. You'll nail it."
I can feel my cheeks heat up at his words, but I turn to face him, suddenly serious. "Gio, what are we doing?"
His smile falters. "What do you mean?"
"This." I gesture between us. "The coffee, the flirting, the...kissing. It's not exactly professional behavior."
Gio's quiet for a moment, studying me with those damn green eyes that see way too much. "No," he finally says. "I guess it's not."
I sigh, shaking out the messy waves in my hair. “I'm supposed to be working on a behind-the-scenes feature on you, you know. My boss is breathing down my neck for 'juicy tidbits' and 'real dirt'."
"And instead, you got...what? A hockey player with mommy and daddy issues?"
"No," I say softly. "I got you. The real you. And that's...that's the problem."
Gio takes a finger and tilts my chin. The gesture is so tender it makes my chest ache. "Why is that a problem, Lex?"
I lean into his touch, even as alarm bells are going off in my head. "Because I can't be objective anymore. Because..."
"Because what?"
"Because I'm not a robot. Because I don't make a habit out of kissing my subjects."
Gio laughs and leans back. "You don't make a habit out of kissing anyone, Lex." I raise an eyebrow at him, but he just grins. "Look, I get it. You're worried about your job. Your integrity as a reporter."
"Exactly."
"But what if I told you that I trust you? That I know you won't use anything against me or twist my words for some scandalous headline?"
I bite my lip, unsure of how to respond. It's true, Gio has always been open and honest with me during our interviews and conversations. But is that enough to justify this blurred line between journalist and subject?
"I promise I won't let our personal relationship affect your professional work," he finally says. "But I also won't pretend like you don't mean something to me."
My heart races at his words. Heat works its way up my neck, and I can feel myself blushing. This is not the kind of relationship I expected to have with a sports celebrity, especially one who has always been portrayed as a troublemaker.
"I appreciate your trust, Gio," I say finally. "But I also need to consider the consequences if this ever got out."
"That's a risk we both have to take. He stares me down. "But for now, can we just enjoy being in each other's company without worrying about what others might think?"
He leans in, and I know I can't resist him any longer. Our lips meet, and it's like a fire ignites within me. I lose myself in the moment, forgetting about everything else except for Gio and the way he makes me feel.
The way his hands wrap around my waist, pulling me closer. The way his lips move against mine, so gentle and yet so passionate.
I breathe in the scent of him—coffee and soap and something distinctly his own. Every inch of my body is begging for his. Ready to tell him to take me right here on my hotel bed.
My breasts feel tender, aching with want. My nipples harden against the fabric of my bra. I can feel his erection pressing against me, and it only fuels my desire.
But as much as I want him, there's a part of me that knows this is dangerous territory. We're both risking our careers and reputations for this moment.
I break away from the kiss, panting and trying to catch my breath. "We should stop," I say, halfheartedly.
Gio pulls back slightly, his eyes searching mine. "Do you want me to stop?"
I hesitate for a moment before shaking my head no. The truth is, I don't want him to stop. I want to feel him inside me. Want to experience everything I felt that night at the after-party.
And more.
God, this man is my kryptonite. If only I had Superwoman's strength.
I swallow. "No, I don't want you to stop, Gio. But I still think it's best that we should."
Gio's expression is pained, but he nods in understanding. He knows the risks and boundaries better than anyone else.
"Okay," he says softly, kissing my forehead before getting up from the bed. "We've got a flight back to Chicago that we both have to get ready for, anyway." He runs a thumb along my bottom lip. "Call you later?"
I nod, my chest squeezing as he walks to the door and opens it with a wink.
When it closes behind him, I fall onto the bed, wanting to scream.
For once in my life, I seem to be following my heart instead of headlines.
So, what the hell am I going to do now?