ログインThe doorbell rings.It's Elias. In his training jacket, hands in his pockets, looking like he considered and discarded several approaches to this visit before landing on simply appearing."Elias? You have the code," she says, stepping aside to let him in."I didn't want to walk in on anything." He says this with complete seriousness.She looks at him. "It's two in the afternoon.""I'm aware.""What exactly did you think you'd be walking in on?"Mia tilts her head. "And you're back sooner than I thought. Did you finish your quota for the day already? You're nearly an hour ahead of yesterday's pace."Elias rubs the bridge of his nose. "You know...things just went smoothly today. Coach decided to let us off the leash early."He doesn't mention the "conspiracy" that took place behind the scenes. Earlier that morning, Dr. Anderson had cornered Coach Danny, brandishing a tablet full of data. Anderson had been adamant—if Danny didn't ease up on the drills, he'd be looking at a roster full of
Elias maneuvers through Mia's small apartment—now her apartment, courtesy of his real estate portfolio.As he slides her skincare bottles onto the bathroom shelf, a thought strikes him.This place had felt sprawling and empty when he bought it as an investment. Now, with Mia's scent beginning to cling to the walls and her lace-trimmed things claiming the drawers, the space feels suddenly, dangerously intimate.It feels like a home. It feels like their home."Do you have any idea what time it is?" Mia's voice breaks through his reverie. "It's late, Elias. You have practice at the crack of dawn. You should get going."Elias doesn't even look up from the stack of books he's organizing. "No."Mia blinks, her heart performing a small, traitorous flip. "No?"Is he planning on staying? The thought sends a jolt of liquid heat straight to her core.They haven't officially crossed that line yet, and the prospect of sharing these sheets with him makes her skin feel two sizes too small.Elias sto
Yorkville announces itself gradually—first the quality of the streetlights, then the architecture, then the particular hush of a neighborhood that doesn't need to perform its own value.The car pulls up to a building that has the discreet confidence of somewhere that charges a great deal of money and considers signage vulgar.Mia looks at her suitcase as the valet takes the car. It has a check-in tag from Milan Malpensa still attached to the handle, a faint waterline from the apartment floor along one wheel. She looks at the lobby, which is the kind of clean that requires professional intervention. She looks at Elias, who is already holding the door open."He's not judging the suitcase," Elias says, without looking at her."I know," she says, and walks through.The elevator is quiet. Thirty-third floor. The doors open onto a short private corridor and then—the apartment.Mia steps in and stops.The floor-to-ceiling windows run the full width of the living room. The CN Tower clean agai
Mia rubs her gritty, exhausted eyes and lets out a long, ragged sigh. "I'm afraid not. My apartment...a pipe burst. The walls are already damp and starting to swell. I tried to clean it up, but the floors are still a swamp. The whole place is a wreck, it's completely unlivable."A sudden, sharp wave of vulnerability crashes over her, and her composure finally cracks.Her voice hitches, trailing off into a frustrated, emotional whine she can't seem to suppress. "It's all because of these damn games! Between the fans and the press, I can't even find a hotel room within fifty miles. I'm literally about to be homeless, Elias."Her breath hitches as she leans her head against the cool glass of the window. "I was already running on empty when I landed, and I haven't had a single second to breathe since I got back."Silence stretches across the line for a heartbeat. Then, the sudden, sharp rustle of fabric and the jingle of keys echo through the speaker. His voice, when it finally comes, is
The apartment building is a four-minute walk from the training facility, which Mia has always considered one of the better decisions she made when she arrived in Toronto.She makes it to the door. Inserts her key. Turns it.Nothing.She frowns, tries again—the same resistance, the lock sticky in a way it's never been before.She leans into it, lifts the handle, and it finally opens.The smell reaches her before anything else does.Mia pushes the door fully open and stands in the threshold.The apartment is tidy, at first glance. It is only at first glance.The carpet in the entryway has absorbed enough moisture to change color along its edges, and a trail of water marks maps a path from the kitchen toward the living room like the outline of a slow disaster.Drip. Drip. Drip.She sets the suitcase down in the driest patch she can find and picks her way toward the kitchen. The cabinet under the sink is already open. Someone has been here—the floor has been wiped, roughly, and on the exp
Elias's hands roam restlessly across Mia's back, his palms searing through the fabric of her clothes as he drinks in the intoxicating heat of her skin.Just as the air between them thickens, the rhythmic thud of footsteps echo from the hallway. Driven by a raw, guilty reflex, Mia shoves Elias back, the force of it surprising them both.They stand a few feet apart, chests heaving in a ragged unison, neither looking particularly composed.Mia's cheeks are a vivid, incriminating crimson, and her lips—swollen and darkened from the relentless friction of his mouth—are a dead giveaway of exactly what they've been doing.She casts a panicked glance at the door before darting to the corner sink. She frantically tries to smooth her hair and steady her breath, her fingers trembling against her skin.A sharp rap on the door precedes Dr. Anderson as he swings it open. He's decided to pull a "surprise inspection" to ensure his star player is actually following his recovery protocol rather than sla







