Starting

Chapter 2

Roman’s POV

The morning after Kaia walked out of my office, I sat behind my desk with the team’s financial reports spread across it. I had spent most of the morning going through the numbers, and the more I read, the clearer one thing became.

Kaia was the center of almost everything.

Her name was attached to the biggest sponsorship deals, ticket sales depended heavily on her, merchandise carrying her number sold faster than the others, and even the team’s media attention was largely built around her.

My assistant walked into the office with a tablet in his hand.

“Sir, there is something you should consider. Kaia is the most talented player on the team. If she leaves, it will be a loss for the acquisition because so much of the team’s value depends on her.”

“I know.”

I turned another page before leaning back in my chair. “I didn’t know when she became this brave. I thought she would rush back after realizing what she was giving up.”

My assistant hesitated. “What do we do?”

I closed the file and looked at him. “We make sure she doesn’t leave.”

He remained silent.

“If she tries to terminate her contract, don’t let anyone sign her.”

He nodded. “Understood.”

I picked up the file again.

I hadn’t bought the team because of Kaia. I bought it because I saw a business opportunity, and she happened to be the most valuable part of it.

I wasn’t going to allow one stubborn decision from her to turn my investment into a loss.

  - - 

Kaia’s POV

I was confident when I left Roman’s office.

Maybe too confident.

I had spent years building my career, and during those years, I had met enough people to believe that someone would be willing to help me. I had sponsors, business contacts, other athletes and people who had supported me from the beginning.

Surely, I wouldn’t have to beg anyone.

The first person I thought of was an old sponsor who had supported my career for years, so I called and arranged a meeting.

I walked into the office expecting a simple conversation.

Instead, I walked out less than an hour later with nothing.

“We’re sorry, Kaia,” the man had said. “We believe in you, but things have changed since Roman acquired the organization. His company now controls several of our biggest sports partnerships, and we can’t risk damaging that relationship.”

I had forced a smile. “I understand.”

But I didn’t, not  really.

I had expected Roman to control my team.

I hadn’t expected him to have enough influence to make people afraid of helping me.

Still, I refused to give up.

I contacted another investor, he  declined.

I contacted another, he  gave me the same answer.

By the time the third person rejected me, I was sitting alone in my car, staring at the list of contacts on my phone and wondering how many more names I could cross out before there was nobody left to call.

That was when I finally understood what Roman had done, he hadn’t simply bought my old team., he  had bought himself enough influence to make people think twice before standing against him.

The thought made me angry, but beneath the anger was something else I didn’t want to admit.

I had spent my entire life learning how to play hockey, I knew how to read the rink, how to read my opponents, how to stay calm when thousands of people were screaming, and how to score when the pressure was at its highest but  building a team was different.

I didn’t know enough about contracts, I didn’t know how to find serious investors, I didn’t know how much it would cost to run a professional team, where to find a proper training facility, or how to convince players to leave established organizations and follow me.

I knew hockey, I didn’t know business.

For the first time, I understood just how much I had taken for granted.

I could have gone back to Roman.

It would have been easy.

I could sign his contract, stay with the team, continue playing, and let him handle everything else but  the thought of doing that made my stomach turn.

I had already told him I wouldn’t let him control my career.

I wasn’t going to take those words back because things had become difficult.

So I made a decision.

I wasn’t going to build another huge organization overnight.

I would start with whatever I could find.

I spent the rest of the day looking for a training facility and eventually found an old one that had been sitting unused for years.

It wasn’t impressive.

The ice needed work, most of the equipment was outdated, and the building looked nothing like the professional facilities I was used to.

But it was affordable.

I stood in the middle of the empty rink and looked around.

There were no cameras, no fans, no teammates and no coaches.

Just me, an old rink and a dream that suddenly looked much bigger than I had expected.

I smiled despite myself. “This will do.”

Then I started looking for players.

I contacted athletes I knew and approached a few young players who had shown promise but hadn’t been given much opportunity.

“I’m starting a new team,” I told them. “Are you interested?”

Some laughed because they thought I was joking.

Some politely turned me down.

Others admitted they were interested but didn’t want to risk their careers by going against Roman.

A few didn’t believe I could even get the team into the professional league.

By the end of the day, I had nothing.

Not one player.

I stood alone in the empty facility as the evening light faded through the windows.

For a moment, I felt the weight of everything I had just walked away from.

My old team had coaches, players, sponsors, facilities and everything I needed to focus on hockey.

Now I had an empty rink.

That was all.

I looked at the ice again and took a slow breath, maybe  Roman was right, maybe  I had no idea what I was doing but I  had already made my choice.

I picked up my bag and smiled faintly.

“Fine,” I whispered to myself. “If nobody wants to join me yet, I’ll start with nobody.”

I turned off the lights and walked out of the empty rink.

I had no team, no sponsor, no money and no players.

But for the first time since Roman bought my old team, I felt like I was finally building something that belonged to me.