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Home / Romance / SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal / Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

All Chapters of SHATTERED ICE:One rink, bound by betrayal : Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

205 Chapters

151.

Samantha’s POV Inside, everything smelled like soft perfume and luxury, the kind of place where the price tags probably had more zeroes than my bank account. My steps automatically slowed as my brain screamed wrong place, wrong place, turn around now.A saleswoman in a sleek black dress approached us immediately, her smile warm but practiced.“Good evening. How may we assist you?”I opened my mouth, but Anthony’s voice beat mine by a full second.“She needs a dress for the opening night. Something elegant. Something that fits her perfectly.”My jaw nearly dropped.I elbowed him lightly. “I can speak.”He didn’t even blink. “You can. But I am enjoying this.”I glared at him, though the flutter in my chest ruined the effect. “You are impossible.”He leaned slightly closer. “And yet, here you are with me.”I felt the tips of my ears go warm. “Only because you dragged me.”“Dragged is a strong word,” he said, looking far too pleased with himself. “I prefer guided.”The saleswoman’s smile

152.

Samantha’s POVThe second dress was champagne colored, soft and delicate, with tiny beads across the bodice. It really was beautiful. On someone else. On me, it made my skin look tired, almost pale.I caught my reflection and winced. “This is not it,” I whispered to myself.When I stepped out, Anthony tilted his head slowly, studying me from top to bottom.“You look like someone’s bridesmaid,” he said.I stared at him. “Wow. Brutal honesty.”“I am trying to help,” he replied, lifting both hands slightly. “I do not want you to look like you got lost on your way to a wedding.”I pressed my lips together. “Thank you for the feedback. Very helpful.”The saleswoman gave a polite smile. “It is a lovely gown, but the color is not bringing out your features. Perhaps something richer.”I nodded quickly. “Yes. Something richer. Or darker. Or literally anything else.”Anthony hummed in agreement. “I am voting for darker. And no more beige. You look like you smell like vanilla cupcakes.”I narrow

153.

Samantha’s POV“Anthony,” I whispered.His lips curved into the faintest smile. “Do not worry, Sam. I am not going to say anything else right now.” He muttered.Relief washed through me. And disappointment. A strange mix I could not untangle. I looked away quickly, pretending to study the dress again.He reached out slowly, and for a moment I thought he was going to touch my arm. His hand hovered, just a breath away from my skin, close enough that I felt the ghost of warmth. Then he stopped. His fingers curled, and he lowered his hand as if he had just remembered where we were.The air in the boutique shifted.It was too quiet around us. Too still. Too charged.I could hear my heartbeat in my ears.We were standing closer than anyone should. Close enough that I could smell his cologne, something warm and clean, something that fit him too well. Close enough that I felt the heat rising off his body.His gaze lifted from the dress to my face. Then lower.To my lips.My breath caught. My

154.

Samantha's POVThe ballroom was glittering gold and ice. Chandeliers hung in shimmering clusters, each one brighter than the one before. The ceiling reflected the lights like a frozen lake, and the room buzzed with photographers, guests, and athletes dressed in tailored suits and gowns that looked like they belonged on magazine covers. Everything smelled expensive. Perfume layered over polished wood and champagne. Laughter floated everywhere, light and practiced.Anthony and I had barely taken our seats when I realized two things at once.One, the women here loved him.Two, I hated how much it bothered me.I shifted slightly in my chair, smoothing my hands over the emerald fabric of my dress. The material felt cool beneath my fingers, grounding and unfamiliar. I still could not believe I was wearing something like this. That I was here. That I had almost kissed Anthony Vale less than an hour ago.My mind betrayed me, replaying the moment in the boutique. His breath close. His eyes

155.

Samantha’s POVThe Paris team arrived at our table. They approached together, their presence warm and polite, and I sat up straighter.Camille spoke first, a bright smile on her lips. “Hello again. We wanted to check if you both settled in well. I hope everything was resolved.”“Yes,” I said softly. “Thank you again for helping us earlier.”She waved a hand. “It was the least we could do. The event should treat all athletes well. Not only the favorites.”Her eyes flicked toward Anthony when she said that. Slowly. Intentionally.He smiled back at her. And my stomach twisted again.Camille was beautiful, elegant, and one of the most well known skaters in Europe. Tall, graceful, with dark curls pinned into a perfect updo. Her partner, Julien, stood beside her, equally charming in a classic black suit.“You look refreshing tonight,” Julien said courteously.“Ah, but not as striking as your partner,” Camille added smoothly, her smile turning warmer in a way that was no longer subtle. “Anth

156.

Anthony’s POVWe did not go far.That was the first thing I noticed as we slipped out through the quieter side exit, leaving the noise and lights behind. The music from the ballroom faded into a distant hum, replaced by the soft night air and the low murmur of the city beyond the venue. Paris at night felt different when you were not performing for it. Quieter. More honest.The last time I had been here, I barely remembered the streets. Everything had blurred together into airports, practice rinks, hotel corridors, and endless schedules taped to the inside of my head. I had seen Paris through tinted car windows and reflected stage lights, never through my own tired eyes. There had been no time to slow down, no space to breathe. Every hour had been accounted for, every step measured by what came next.And Celeste had not helped.She had loved the attention. Thrived on it, really. Every gala, every after party, every public appearance turned into a performance of its own. She floate

157

Anthony’s POV The words settled between us, fragile and honest. I heard her inhale sharply, a quiet sound she probably did not realize she made. It tightened something in my chest.I finally looked at her then.Her eyes were wide, reflecting the lights from the fountain, her lips parted just slightly as if she had been caught mid-thought. For a second, she looked exactly like she had eight years ago, surprised by something she had not expected to hear.“I do not understand,” she said quietly.And that was the truth, I realized. She really did not. Neither did I. That was the problem.I had spent eight years convincing myself that what I felt for Samantha was gone. Buried under competition, resentment, pride, and time. I told myself it had burned out the day she walked away without looking back. I told myself it was easier that way.But lately, I noticed her everywhere.The way my focus shifted when she entered a room. The way my chest tightened when she looked tired. The way my body

158

Anthony’s POVI had not planned to say it out loud.The words slipped out because the silence after the kiss was too full, too honest to hide behind. My mouth moved before my fear could stop it.“I have been wanting to do that for eight years,” I said softly.Her reaction was immediate. Not anger. Not relief. Something messier.She scoffed, a shaky sound that did not match the way her fingers were still curled into my jacket. “You would not have been wanting to do this if you had not messed everything up back then.”The words landed hard in my chest.For a moment, I only looked at her. At the woman I had carried with me in every quiet hour, every flight, every hotel room where sleep would not come. The woman who had haunted me without knowing it.“Samantha,” I said carefully. “You misunderstood.”Her brows pulled together, defensive instinct rising like a wall. “I did not.”“You did.”She shook her head. “I heard you.”The certainty in her voice hurt more than anger would have. I took

159.

Samantha’s POVThe cold crept in slowly, the kind that did not announce itself right away but settled into your bones when you stopped moving. I hugged my arms around myself, staring at the fountain as water arced and fell in perfect rhythm, glowing under the lights like liquid glass.My mind was not quiet. It had not been quiet since Anthony spoke.Eight years.Eight years of carrying something sharp inside my chest, something I thought was truth, something that shaped every decision I made after that night. Every wall I built. Every distance I forced between us. Every time I told myself I was fine, that I was over it, that I was stronger now.And now he was telling me it had all been wrong.I let out a shaky breath.Before I could say anything, I felt warmth settle around my shoulders. I startled slightly, then realized Anthony had taken off his jacket and draped it over me. It still carried his heat, faintly scented with his cologne and something unmistakably him.“You are cold,”

160.

Samantha’s POVI looked at him, really looked at him, and suddenly so many things made sense. The tension. The sharp words. The way his eyes lingered when he thought I was not looking.“You were protecting yourself,” I whispered.“And you,” he said. “From me.”Silence settled between us again, thicker now, but not uncomfortable. Heavy with all the years we had not spoken like this.I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling suddenly exposed. “I spent years rebuilding myself after that night,” I said softly. “Thinking I was not enough. Thinking I had imagined what we had.”His expression tightened. “I am so sorry.”“I know,” I said. And I did.The fountain continued its steady rhythm, water rising and falling like a heartbeat.Anthony reached out slowly, hesitating for a fraction of a second before his hand covered mine where it rested on the bench.I did not pull away.“I cannot change what happened,” he said. “But I can tell you this now. You were never weak. You were never a mistake.

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