Whatever It Takes

NATALIA'S POV

I didn't expect anything different from him—an arrogant, spoiled brat hiding behind his family’s money and name. Honestly, I was still in shock that he even offered to pull me off the rink in the first place. But then he had to go and put on that pathetic little act, pretending like he actually cared.

God, that's what made me sick. Nobody has cared about me, not really, since the day I lost my legs. It’s like the moment I began to use these crutches, a switch flipped and the whole damn country suffered collective amnesia. Overnight, I just... vanished. I became a ghost. And it pisses me off because I wasn't just somebody, I was the face of Los Angeles. Not Daniel Prescott. And definitely not my worthless step-sister. But now? Now I'm just invisible, and I hate him for making me forget that, even for a second.

The morning air at the office was shattered by the usual sound of my boss screeching my name from her room.

"Have you started the write-up on Daniel Prescott yet?" Linda demanded, slamming a stack of papers on my desk.

I froze. My eyes locked onto hers, every muscle in my body tightening. Daniel Prescott, the exact same arrogant jerk I had encountered, twice. All I was supposed to do was keep my head down and ask a few simple questions, but I had completely ruined it.

"Do you have any idea how many big magazines have tried to get an interview with him?!" Linda continued, her voice getting louder.

"Because it’s impossible, Linda!" I snapped back, my anger boiling over before I could stop myself. "Why are you asking me to do the impossible?!"

Beside me, Christopher tugged hard at my shirt, glaring at me with wide eyes, signaling me to shut up.

Linda leaned over the wall of our office, her voice turning cold. "I am going to be the first publisher to print a story on Daniel Prescott. And you, Natalia, are going to get it for me—or consider yourself fired." She threatened, and walked away.

I slammed back into my chair, my chest heavy with anger and fear. I looked around and saw the whole office staring at me.

"What?!" I shouted at them. "Why are you all looking at me like that?!"

"Natalia..." Christopher cut in softly. "Look, I can help you get info on Daniel--"

"Really?" I sat up straight, holding onto any bit of hope.

"Yeah, but you have to figure out how to get the interview yourself," Chris added.

"Anything. Please," I breathed out, terrified of losing my job. "I can't lose this job, Chris. I really can't."

"Sure I know, just listen. Daniel spends twelve hours of his day at the hockey rink," Chris explained. "He spends six hours at his office, and the last six at home. If you can't catch him at the rink, try his company."

"What about his house?" I asked.

"His Fortress? You can't get to him there, and no one even knows the address," Christopher replied.

"Don't even think about it," another coworker chimed in, leaning over from her desk to join our conversation. "One time, a reporter tried to stalk him home once. She got caught and arrested. She’s in prison as we speak"

"He should be at his desk right now, and I’ve got to figure out a way to catch him before he leaves at noon," I said.

"Or he might be at the rink," Christopher cut in.

I gave him a smirk, keeping my face strictly neutral. He had no clue I’d already run into Daniel at the rink—and if he found out I’d blown that shot, he’d kill me.

I dropped what I was doing, left the publishing house, and boarded a cab straight to Daniel's office. It was a race against the clock, traffic wasn't helping, and I honestly had zero plan of what I’d say once I actually got there.

The building was locked down tight. Security guards were posted everywhere outside, leaving the main entrance as the only way in. I walked up to one of them, gave him Daniel's name, and was told to stand by.

"Does he have you on his schedule?" the guard asked, looking me up and down.

"Well, no, but—"

"Then he's not available."

"Seriously? Just send a message up. Tell him Natalia is down here and it's urgent."

The guard didn't't budge. The guy was completely dismissive and refused to even hear me out. Realizing I wasn't getting past him, I walked back to the parking lot. My only option now was to find a place to sit and wait until twelve o'clock, when Daniel would have to leave for the arena. He’d made it dead clear I was banned from ever stepping foot in his arena again, which meant this parking lot was my one and only shot. I couldn't screw it up.

At exactly noon, the elevator doors opened to the parking lot, and Daniel stepped out flanked by his bodyguards.

I rushed to cut him off, but moving fast on crutches was a total mess. I felt awkward and completely ridiculous trying to hustle over to him.

His guards moved to block me, but Daniel held up a hand. "Let her."

"Hi," I managed, giving him an awkward wave and a tight smile.

"What do you want? Make it fast—I don't have time for this," he said, his tone sharp.

"I... um..." I cleared my throat, leaning heavily on the crutches as I stared at him. "I... I..."

Daniel just shook his head and started walking past me.

"I need your help!" I blurted out.

Honestly, I couldn't tell if I was terrified of him or if my own pride was keeping the words stuck in my throat. Asking him for anything physically pained me.

Surprisingly, he stopped and turned around. "Help with what?"

"An interview," I practically shouted. "Please, just give me one minute."

The second the word *interview* left my mouth, he turned his back on me and kept heading for his car.

"I'm sorry about the other day!" I yelled after him. "My entire job is on the line, Daniel Prescott! Don't prove everyone right about you being an arrogant jerk!"

He stopped again and turned, a lazy half-smirk on his face and both hands shoved in his pockets.

"I don't give a damn about your job, Natalia Brooks," he said calmly. "And I'm pretty sure I already told you—my name is the only thing you're ever getting from me."

"I'll do anything!" I cried out, dropping to my knees right there on the concrete.

A sharp spike of pain shot through my legs the second my knees hit the ground, but I squeezed my eyes shut and refused to let it show on my face.

Daniel paused for a split second, but the man was cold as ice. He just got into his car, shut the door, and sped off.

Part of me thought about coming back to camp outside his office every single day until he caved, but I didn't have time for that. I was going to follow him to the arena, or even to that stupid fortress he lived in. Whatever it took, I was going to get that interview.