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His smile was smug, but I barely registered it as I scribbled my name at the bottom of the contract, my hand shaking.

“You made the right decision,” he said, taking the paper back and tucking it into his jacket.

I ignored him, spinning on my heel. My legs felt like lead as I walked away, my chest hollow. I’d figure out a way to fix this. To protect Dalton and the people who mattered to him.

I turned a corner to see Gracie and Ricky standing there, the shock and concern on their faces a lifeline. Ricky opened his mouth to speak, but I shook my head sharply.

I didn’t want Vincent to hear them.

The moment Dalton woke up, I knew his father would be there to spin his lies. And I needed a plan before that happened.

“Graciella, I need you to do something for me.”

FORTY-SEVEN

GRACIELLA

PRIMAS ARE RIDE OR DIE.

What the hell could he possibly be doing that is taking this long to answer?

I jammed the ivory button three more times, tapping my foot. He would have some old-school doorbell instead of a camera. The guy probably had a flip phone, too.

I shuddered at the thought. My whole life was on my phone. It was what kept me employed.

“I do not have time for this,” I muttered, raising my fist to knock against the wooden door. But before it could connect, it opened.

“Monroe, wha—” the rant trailed off.

It wasn’t a tall, pissed-off-but-hot man glaring down at me, but instead an adorable girl with a pink princess dress, honeyed curls, and a slightly crooked tiara looking up at me.

“Oh, hello,” I said, peering past her, searching for a clue on if I’d gotten the right house.

I was guessing no.

What was the over-under she’d know where to locate a professional hockey coach in the neighborhood?

She pointed at my platform Vans with brightly colored flowers. “I like your shoes.”

“I like your crown.”

Her little face blossomed into a smile, revealing a missing front tooth.

“Goldie.” The stern voice caused us both to nearly jump out of our skin. “What have I told you about answering the door? You need to let Daddy do it. Now, go upstairs and play.”

“But Dad⁠—”

“No, buts. Upstairs. Now.”

My brain short-circuited a bit when the door was pulled open farther, revealing the very man I was in search of.

Daddy? Holy shit.

I probably should have been more sly, but my impulse control wasn’t great, so my eyes shot to his left hand, searching for a ring. Hell, the tan line was the real indicator, but there was none. Which, I guess didn’t really mean anything. Relationships took all sorts of different forms. And why did I care if he was in one? I mea⁠—

“What are you doing here?” That gruff tone pulled me back. “How’s Ari? What happened? No one will tell me shit. Vincent sent us all on a fucking plane the second the game ended and then said she was no longer on the team and that Dalton was in recovery.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his brows pulling so close together they nearly touched.

The mention of my cousin reminded me of why the hell I was back in Dallas only a handful of hours after that shit-show of a season opener.