chapter 30

“He’s literally checking his phone for your texts during board meetings,” Mia declared, swirling her martini with practiced elegance. “That’s not professional distance, Em. That’s a man completely gone for you.” Emma sank deeper into the corner booth of Noir, the discreet cocktail bar where she and Mia had retreated for their monthly catch-up. Three months after the snowstorm kiss and subsequent Jack meltdown, Emma was still navigating the complicated waters of her developing relationship with Alek while maintaining professional boundaries at work. “We’re being careful,” Emma insisted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “No public dates, minimal private time, absolutely no office... interaction.” “And how’s that working out for your sanity?” Mia arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Terribly.” Emma sighed, dropping the professional façade she maintained everywhere except with her oldest friend. “I think about him constantly. When we’re in meetings, I have to force myself to focus on spreadsheets instead of his hands.” “His hands?” Mia’s eyes widened with delighted interest. “Do tell.” “They’re just... nice hands.” Emma felt her cheeks warm. “Strong but elegant. The way he holds a pen or gestures when making a point...” “Oh honey,” Mia laughed, “you’ve got it bad. This isn’t just attraction anymore.” “I know.” Emma’s voice softened. “It feels different from anything before. Even Jack, in the beginning.” “Different how?” Emma considered the question seriously, swirling her wine as she gathered her thoughts. “With Jack, I always felt like I was supporting his dream. Adjusting myself to fit his world.” “And with Alek?” “With Alek, I feel like we’re building something together.” Emma met her friend’s gaze. “He sees me—really sees me. Not as Jack’s ex or Franklin’s granddaughter, but as myself. He challenges me professionally while supporting me personally.” “That’s called partnership,” Mia said gently. “Something you never really had with Jack.” “I thought we did, in the beginning.” “No, sweetie.” Mia reached across the table to squeeze Emma’s hand. “Even in college, Jack was the star and you were the supporting actress. Remember when you declined that summer internship at Goldman because he had hockey camp?” Emma winced at the memory. “I thought that’s what love meant. Sacrifice.” “Real love involves mutual sacrifice, not just one person constantly diminishing themselves.” Mia took another sip of her martini. “So what’s holding you back with Alek? The divorce is final. The professional lines are clear.” “Timing,” Emma replied. “Jack’s still on the team. The press would have a field day with ‘Ex-Wife Sleeps with Boss to Get Revenge.’ And honestly... I’m scared.” “Scared? You? The woman who took over a professional hockey franchise and faced down a room full of male executives?” Mia looked genuinely surprised. “Terrified,” Emma admitted. “I’ve only been truly on my own for a few months. What if I’m just transferring dependency from one relationship to another? What if I’m not ready?” Mia studied her friend thoughtfully. “Let me ask you something. When you make decisions for the team, do you consult Alek?” “Of course. He’s the CEO.” “But do you always follow his recommendations? Or do you form your own opinions?” Emma considered this. “I listen to his expertise, but ultimately make independent judgments. Sometimes we disagree.” “And when you disagree professionally, does it affect how he treats you personally?” “No,” Emma replied immediately. “He respects my authority even when he thinks I’m making the wrong call.” “That doesn’t sound like dependency to me.” Mia leaned forward. “That sounds like two strong people who can separate professional disagreement from personal connection.” Emma absorbed her friend’s perspective, recognizing the truth in it. While Jack had always taken professional disagreements personally, Alek maintained clear boundaries between their business relationship and growing personal connection. “There’s something else,” Emma confessed, her voice dropping. “Something I haven’t told anyone.” Mia waited, giving her space to continue. “I think I’m falling in love with him.” The words felt simultaneously terrifying and liberating. “Not the passionate, desperate love I had with Jack. Something steadier, deeper. And that scares me more than anything.” “Because you’re afraid of being hurt again?” “Because I’m afraid of how much it would break me if this doesn’t work.” Emma traced the rim of her wineglass. “With Jack, some part of me always knew we were fundamentally mismatched. With Alek... it feels like finding a missing piece I didn’t know was absent.” Mia’s expression softened with understanding. “The greater the potential joy, the greater the potential pain. But Em, that’s not a reason to hold back.” “Isn’t it? My divorce is barely finalized. The team is still finding its footing under my leadership. My grandfather’s health is concerning.” Emma listed her reasons with practiced precision. “Timing matters in business and in relationships.” “Timing always matters,” Mia agreed, “but perfect timing doesn’t exist. There will always be complications, professional challenges, personal uncertainties.” She paused, choosing her next words carefully. “When my parents died, a wise person told me something I’ve never forgotten: ’Life doesn’t wait for convenient scheduling.’” Emma felt the truth of those words settle heavily. Her grandfather’s recent cardiac episode had sharply reminded her how quickly circumstances could change, how precious time truly was. “What would you do if professional considerations weren’t a factor?” Mia pressed gently. “If there was no team, no press, no Jack situation. Just you and Alek and your feelings.” “I’d stop wasting time,” Emma answered without hesitation. “I’d tell him how I feel. I’d explore what we could be together without artificial constraints.” “Then maybe that’s your answer.” Mia signaled for another round. “The professional concerns are real and need management, but they shouldn’t be excuses for denying yourself happiness.” Emma’s phone buzzed with a text. Alek: Just finished meeting with league officials. Thought of you when commissioner mentioned community engagement initiatives. Your approach is becoming the standard. Proud of your influence. A simple professional update with a personal touch that made her heart flutter inappropriately. This was exactly the kind of message that blurred their carefully constructed boundaries—respectful enough for colleagues but intimate enough to remind her of their connection. “Is that him?” Mia asked, noting Emma’s small smile. “Yes.” Emma showed her the message. “Girl,” Mia shook her head with amused exasperation, “that man is not texting you at 9 PM about community initiatives because he’s concerned about the team’s public image. He’s looking for any excuse to connect with you.” “You think?” “I know.” Mia’s confidence was absolute. “Remember Logan from business school? The one who ‘just happened’ to study in the same coffee shop every Tuesday when I had my finance group meeting?” “The one you dated for three years?” Emma laughed, remembering Mia’s business school romance. “Men find professional reasons to stay in orbit when they’re interested.” Mia tapped Emma’s phone. “Alek’s orbiting pretty deliberately.” Emma reread the message, seeing it through Mia’s perspective. The substance was professional, but the timing and personal touch revealed more. “So what do I do?” Emma asked, feeling suddenly like a college freshman again rather than a professional sports franchise owner. “I can’t exactly suggest dinner at his place to ’discuss community initiatives.’” “Why not?” Mia challenged. “The divorce is final. You’re both adults. Professional boundaries matter at work, but you’re allowed to have a personal life.” “People will talk.” “People already talk,” Mia countered. “The question is whether you’ll let their talking determine your happiness.” Emma considered this as she typed a response to Alek: Appreciate your support. Would like to discuss expansion of these initiatives further. Dinner tomorrow? Her finger hovered over the send button, hesitation warring with desire. “Send it,” Mia urged. “What’s the worst that happens? He says he’s busy?” Emma pressed send, immediately feeling both terror and exhilaration. Three dots appeared almost instantly, indicating Alek was responding. Name the place and time. My schedule is yours. Simple words, but the immediacy and openness of his response made Emma’s pulse quicken. No pretense of checking his calendar or suggesting alternative dates—just straightforward availability that communicated volumes about his priorities. “Well?” Mia prompted. Emma showed her the response. “His schedule is mine, apparently.” “Of course it is.” Mia looked smug. “That man has been waiting months for you to open this door even a crack.” “It’s just dinner,” Emma said, more to herself than to Mia. “It’s never just dinner,” Mia replied sagely. “But it is just the beginning.” As they finished their drinks, conversation shifted to Mia’s work and life in Chicago, but Emma’s mind kept returning to the text exchange with Alek. The simple acceptance of her dinner invitation felt like a turning point—not just in their relationship, but in her own journey. For years, she’d defined herself in relation to others—Jack’s wife, Franklin’s granddaughter, team owner’s assistant. Even her current identity as team owner connected to her grandfather’s legacy. But this choice—this decision to explore feelings for Alek despite complications—was entirely her own. Not driven by obligation or circumstance, but by genuine desire for connection with someone who saw and valued her authentic self. “Earth to Emma,” Mia waved a hand in front of her face. “You’re a million miles away.” “Sorry,” Emma refocused. “Just thinking about tomorrow.” “What will you wear?” Mia asked practically. “Please tell me not one of those conservative suits you’ve been hiding in.” “What’s wrong with my suits?” Emma protested. “Nothing, if you’re going for ‘competent but forgettable.’ Everything, if you want Alek to forget how to string sentences together.” Mia grinned mischievously. “Remember that blue dress from my birthday last year? The one that made Jack’s teammate spill his drink?” Emma laughed, remembering the incident. “I can’t wear that to dinner with Alek! It’s practically indecent.” “Fine, compromise.” Mia negotiated like the corporate lawyer she was. “The black wrap dress with those ankle boots you bought in New York. Professional enough for public dining but feminine enough to remind him you’re not just his boss.” As they settled the bill and prepared to leave, Mia pulled Emma into a tight hug. “I’m proud of you,” she whispered. “Not just for running the team or finishing your MBA, but for being brave enough to try again after Jack.” “I haven’t done anything yet,” Emma protested. “You’ve done the hardest part,” Mia corrected. “You’ve acknowledged what you want and taken a step toward it. The rest is just checking the lines to make sure the path is clear.” Later that night, as Emma prepared for bed, her phone buzzed with one final message from Alek: Looking forward to tomorrow. Sleep well, Emma. Four simple words that carried worlds of meaning in their careful restraint. Not presumptuous, not overstepping, but warmly personal in a way that made Emma realize how long she’d been starving for genuine connection. She replied with equal care: As am I. Goodnight, Alek. As she set her phone aside, Emma found herself smiling at the ceiling. Mia was right—there would never be perfect timing, no moment entirely free from complications or potential misinterpretations. But perhaps perfect timing was less important than perfect understanding. And something told her that Alek Volkov understood her better than anyone else in her life ever had—perhaps even better than she understood herself. Tomorrow’s dinner would be just the beginning of testing that theory.