4.

Samantha’s POV

I’d been skating since I was six, but never had the ice felt as cold as it did that morning.

Westview Arena was nearly empty, save for the sound of blades slicing across ice, echoing like thunder in the stillness.

I tightened the straps of my practice top, eyes narrowing as I watched Anthony glide in smooth circles near the center of the rink, warming up like it was just another Tuesday. Effortless. Arrogant.

I stepped onto the ice with a sharp breath, the sting of cold rushing through my socks and straight into my spine. My body knew the drill, posture, poise, balance,but my mind was buzzing.

I hadn’t slept. Not really. Not with the memory of Anthony’s words from yesterday echoing through my head like an old injury that wouldn’t stop throbbing.

“You’re just a replacement.”

He hadn’t even tried to be civil. And the more I thought about it, the more I wondered why he hated me that much in the first place. If anyone should be pissed and angry about the arrangement, it should be me.

He noticed me approach but didn’t acknowledge me until I was just feet away. He stopped mid-turn and looked at me coolly. “Try to keep up,” he muttered.

I bristled. “I don’t need a lecture. I’ve competed at Nationals before,” I snapped, sharper than I meant to be.

He shrugged, effortlessly coasting backward with that infuriating calm he always had. His eyes flicked over me like I was a number on a scoreboard, not a person. “Then act like it.”

The jab landed. My jaw clenched.

I narrowed my eyes, fire rising in my chest. “Do you always insult your partners, or is this just part of your morning routine?”

He stopped abruptly, his skates carving a clean halt into the ice. Tilting his head slightly, his face unreadable, he said, “Only the ones who think showing up is enough.”

My mouth parted in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, eyes locked on mine now,steady and unflinching.

I took a step forward, barely resisting the urge to poke a finger into his chest. “I didn’t ask to be here, remember? I was fine, until your agency dragged me into this mess.”

Even though I knew that was only half the truth.

“No,” he said evenly. “But you agreed. And now we both have to live with it.”

I snorted. “I agreed because I thought I was working with a professional, not an egotistical jackass.”

That got a flicker… something in his eyes, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. He looked at me a moment longer, then turned away like I wasn’t even worth the energy.

“Save the fire for the routine, Meadows,” he said over his shoulder, already skating off again. “Unless you plan on tripping over your pride mid-lift.”

The insult stung more than I wanted to admit.

I inhaled deeply, steadying myself. I wasn’t going to let him get under my skin. Not again. I’d survived worse. I’d survived him once before.

Launching myself across the ice, I caught up beside him with effortless speed. “Don’t worry, Vale. I won’t trip. And I certainly won’t drop the ball. That’s your specialty, isn’t it?”

He glanced sideways at me, something flashed in his eyes. Surprise, maybe. Or recognition.

Then, just as quickly, the shutters came down again. He skated ahead, voice cool and low. “Let’s just try to survive tonight without killing each other.”

I gave a humorless laugh. “You first.”

The tension crackled like electricity as he glared at me. For a second, I thought I might actually shove him off the ice.

But before either of us could say another word, the sound of a door opening broke the silence. Footsteps. Voices.

Anthony immediately stepped back.

I turned my head just in time to see three people entering the rink’s side gallery. One held a camera, the other two wore press badges.

Of course. The media.

Anthony straightened like a switch had flipped. He flashed a perfect, press-ready smile and skated forward. “Come on, it’s showtime,” he muttered under his breath.

I frowned but followed, struggling to mask the disbelief etched across my face. Where the hell was he going? The press had just arrived,weren’t they here to observe, capture behind-the-scenes moments?

And yet, he was already walking off like rehearsal was done. We hadn’t even been on the ice for thirty minutes. We hadn’t completed a full routine. We hadn’t trained together at all.

Nationals was in a few hours, and we still moved like strangers. A slow, creeping doubt began to settle in my chest. How were we supposed to perform tonight?

More importantly… how were we supposed to win?

“Anthony!” one of the reporters called, lifting a phone to record. “We heard about the last-minute switch. Is it true your new partner is Samantha Meadows?”

He nodded with practiced charm. “It’s true.”

I forced a smile, stepping up beside him. “Surprise,” I said with a small wave, but was completely ignored by the reporter.

“And how are things going with your new pairing?” the reporter asked, still only looking at Anthony. “Will you still be competing tonight?”

Anthony turned to me, raising a brow. He was putting me on the spot. I hesitated only a second before nodding confidently.

“Absolutely,” I said. “We’ve worked hard. We’ll be ready.”

“And what can we expect from the performance?” the reporter asked Anthony again, still pretending I didn’t exist.

I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t expecting them to like me, but they didn’t have to make it so obvious.

Anthony leaned in slightly, voice smooth as velvet. “Expect fireworks.”

The press chuckled and asked a few more surface-level questions,how we met, what our training schedule was like, if we had plans beyond this competition.

I deflected. Anthony handled it all with a smoothness that made my stomach twist. He was good at this. Too good. I was starting to see why he was the media darling.

As the reporters gathered their things and exited, Anthony’s smile vanished.

Without so much as a glance my way, he skated to center ice and waited for me.

I joined him reluctantly, forcing my posture straight.

“We’re going from the top,” he said.

I nodded, trying to shake off the knot in my chest.