Loving
Hourster, theyy tangled in the sheets of the master bedroom, the panoramic windows revealing snowkes still dancing in the moonlight. The storm had intensified, transforming their weekend retreat into
a true istion–no chance of unexpected visitors or press intrusions.
“Hungry?” Alek asked, tracing patterns on Emma’s bare shoulder.
“Starving.” She stretchednguidly. “You mentioned something about cooking skills?”
“Give me twenty minutes.” He kissed her forehead before sliding from the bed, pulling on lounge pants
Emma watched appreciatively as he moved around the room, struck by howfortable this felt–as if they’d been doing this for years rather than a first weekend away together.
She eventually borrowed his discarded shirt and followed him to the kitchen, where he was efficiently preparing what looked like an borate pasta dish.
<b>“</b>Can I help?” she offered, hopping onto a barstool at the counter.
*Just keep mepany.” Alek worked with the same focused precision he brought to hockey operations. “Wine in the fridge, if you’d like more.”
Emma retrieved the bottle, refreshing both their sses. “You mentioned strategy thinking happens here. What kind of strategies?”
“Career nning. Team structure.” Alek stirred the sauce thoughtfully. “Life direction.”
“Deep thoughts for a weekend retreat.”
“Important decisions deserve space for contemtion.” He nced up from his cooking. “I decided to ept the Boston CEO position here, three years ago.”
“Really?” Emma sipped her wine. “What were the alternatives?”
“Coaching offers from two teams. Front office position with the league.” Alek shrugged lightly. “Boston was the biggest challenge professionally.”
“And personally?”
“Personally, I needed distance from Russia.” A shadow crossed his expression. “Familyplications.”
Emma hesitated, sensing delicate territory. In all their time together, Alek rarely mentioned his history beforeing to America. “What kind ofplications?”
Alek continued cooking silently for a moment, then said, “My sister, Natasha. She was sixteen when I took the Boston job. Our parents died when she was small–car ident. I raised her while ying professionally.”
“I had no idea, Emma said softly. “Where is she now?<i>” </i>
“University in California. Pre–med.” Pride warmed his voice. “Brilliant girl. Stubborn as hell.”
“Sounds familiar.” Emma smiled. “Why didn’t you ever mention her?”
Alek’s hands stilled briefly, “Habit of privacy. In Russia, my prominence as a yer made her a target for gossip, unwanted attention. I learned to separate my public and private livespletely.”
“Even with me?” <fn64be> For original chapters go to find[?]ovel</fn64be>
“Less so with you, certainly. He served the pasta onto warmed tes. “But old habits persist.”
They settled at the dining table, the storm providing dramatic backdrop through the windows. Emma savored the first bite, genuinely impressed. “This is incredible.”
“My grandmother’s recipe. She insisted all her boys learn to cook.” Alek’s pression softened with memory. “She said women are too smart to marry men who can’t feed themselves.”
“Wise woman.”
“The wisest.” Alek refilled their sses. “She would have liked you. Seen through your professional facade Immediately to the fire underneath.”
Emma felt oddly touched. “High praise,ing from her grandson.”
“The highest.” Alek’s eyes held hers across the candlelit table. “She taught me to recognize quality when i found it. In hockey, in business–in people.”
The conversation flowed easily as they ate, moving from family histories to professional philosophies to their shared passion for the game’s future. Emma found herself sharing stories she’d nearly forgotten–childhood ambitions<b>, </b>university triumphs, early professional disappointments before meeting Jack.
“I lost myself in that marriage,” she admitted, curled beside Alek on the sofa after dinner, the fire rebuilt and crackling. “Not all at once. So gradually I barely noticed.”
“How so?”
“I had such ns after business school. Startup ideas. Investment strategies.” Emma stared into the mes. Then Jack’s career took off, and suddenly my role was supporting his dream, not pursuing mine.”
“You resent that time?”
“Not resent, exactly. I loved him. I was proud of him.” Emma chose her words carefully. “But Ipromised more than I should have. Let his needs overshadow mine until I couldn’t remember what mine were.”
Alek’s arm tightened around her. “And now?”
“Now I know exactly what I want.” She looked up at him. “Professionally and personally.”
The kiss that followed was different from those earlier–less urgent, more profound. A connection beyond physical desire or shared circumstances.
When they finally broke apart, Alek rested his forehead against hers. “I have something to show you.”
He led her to a part of the house they hadn’t explored–a ss–walled room overlooking the rear property. Inside was a simple desk,fortable chair, and walls covered with what appeared to be strategic nning materials–whiteboards with diagrams, notes, hockey systems.
“My thinking room,” Alek exined. “Where the real work happens.”
Emma examined the boards with professional interest, recognizing team restructuring ns, draft strategies -and then stopped, surprised. “These are my ideas.”
One section was dedicated to proposals she’d submitted anonymously during her “Emma Carter” days- concession pricing models, fan engagement strategies, international marketing approaches. Each carefully analyzed, expanded upon, integrated intorger ns
“You were implementing my suggestions even before you knew who I was
toured
“Good ideas deserve development, regardless of source Alek watched her examine his work then learned you were Franklin’s granddaughter, it made perfect sense. The strategic thinking, the statistical inte they reflected the Mitchell business acumen
“And here I thought you were just being nice to the boss’s granddaughter)
theme
“I was impressed by your mind long before I knew your family name Alek turned her gently to face tim kut as I fell in love with you as a woman, not as an owner or executive
Emma froze, the word ‘love‘ hanging between them. They’d been careful to avoid that particr deration despite months of growing closeness.
“Is <b>that </b>what this is?” she asked softly. “Love?”
“What else would you call it?” Alek’s voice was steady, certain. “I’ve restructured my life around you. My thinking, my nning, my future–they all include you now.”
Emma felt a profound shift inside her–like puzzle pieces finally settling into their proper ces With Jack, love had been performance, amodation,promise. With Alek, it was partnership, respect, mutual
growth.
“I love you too,” she said simply. “I think I have for months.”
Outside, the storm howled against the windows, but inside their private sanctuary, something vital had rified between them–a breakaway from past patterns into something new and entirely their own.
“I didn’t bring you here just for privacy,” Alek admitted<b>, </b>taking her hands in his. “I brought you here because this ce represents my truest self. I wanted you to know that personpletely before…
“Before what?”
He nced toward the desk drawer, then back to her. “No. Not yet. Too soon.”
Understanding dawned. “Aleksander Volkov, do you have a ring in that drawer?”
His startled expression confirmed her suspicion.
“I wasn’t going to ask this weekend,” he said quickly. “It’s too soon after everything with Jack, the press conference, the trade drama-
Emma silenced him with a kiss. “When the timees,” she whispered against his lips, “ask me here. In your thinking room. Where you make your most important decisions.”
His smile was both relieved and radiant. “Another strategy to consider carefully.”
“The most important one.” Emma led him back toward the main living area. “But for now, we have approximately thirty–six more hours of nothing scheduled, and I intend to make the most of them
The storm outside had transformed from threat to gift, ensuring theirplete istion from the works this precious interlude, there were no teams to manage, no press to avoid, noplicated histories to navigate–just two people who had found in each other something worth building a future around.