His Father Bought Me-Chapter 6: Athlete To Athlete

"The only place she’s going," Magnus said coldly, "is your bedroom."

Roman barked out a harsh laugh. "Not in your wildest dreams or hers. I don’t need her."

"That isn’t your decision," Magnus replied. "She stays. End of discussion."

Roman’s smile turned vicious. "Funny. You need a wife too, don’t you? She’s already Mrs. Whitehall. All you have to do is claim her," he said, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

Magnus’s hand snapped up. For a second it looked like he might strike him, then he stopped. Slowly, he lowered it, straightening the sleeve of his jacket as he exhaled through his nose.

"You will marry her," he said quietly, "or you will deal with the consequences."

"Then give me the consequences." Roman was already walking away as he shot back.

The rejection hit Estelle like a freight train. Her heart stuttered as she looked at Roman. She opened her mouth to fire back, but her gaze drifted to her legs for only a second. The doubt tried to creep in, and she crushed it immediately.

"If you leave, you lose everything," Vance’s voice cut through the air. "The Whitehall name, your place in the team, the NHL, the world of hockey... everything," he said.

Roman froze mid-step, his chest heaving, his nostrils flaring. His hand brushed the pocket where a small black velvet box rested. It was the engagement ring he had bought that morning, meant for tonight.

He turned around and looked at Vance, ignoring Magnus completely.

"I’m not the one who is leaving," he said, eyes blazing despite the calmness in his voice. "I’m going to propose to Lena tonight, and you can’t—"

His words broke off as his phone buzzed. He glanced down and Lena’s name lit the screen. He looked at Magnus finally. "She’s calling."

Across the room, Estelle’s stomach dropped. How do I be a leash for a man whose heart another holds the keys to?

But Magnus’s gaze remained cold. "She can call you all she wants, but tonight your duty is to your wife."

Roman’s face twisted. "But—"

"The proposal is irrelevant. She will not be your fiancée. You already have a wife. And the press will be waiting for you to make your first reveal with your wife in 24 hours."

Roman’s breath stalled, every heartbeat pounded against the box in his pocket. Then he shook his head. "Not happening, Father. Take her back to wherever you found her," he shot back. "Lena will be my wife. She’s the only one I want."

For the briefest moment, his voice faltered. Then his glare cut sideways, narrowing at Estelle. "I would rather have someone who knows what it takes to rule the ice. That’s who belongs beside me. Not some dancer who thinks twirling and swirling is all it’s meant for."

The room went still.

The insult hit Estelle like a hard slap. "Do not!" she shot back, her voice low, sharp, and trembling with fury. "I’ll be happy to leave. Hell, I don’t even want to be here. But I will not let you insult me."

Roman opened his mout to speak, but she raised her hand to him.

"Do not interrupt me!" she snapped. "Athlete to athlete... I’ve won more gold than your entire franchise has seen in a decade, and more than you entire career will see in the next one, so speak to me with respect!" Her words were precise and deliberate.

Before he could stop himself, Roman broke into a chuckle. The sound was harsh, echoing off the walls. He shook his head slowly as his eyes flicked over her where she sat in the wheelchair.

For the first time, Magnus could see that their collision wasn’t just anger. It was something raw, heated, unspoken, impossible to ignore.

Then Roman fixed her with a look that was all challenge and danger. "So, you think because you’ve danced on ice and been handed a few gold medals. You own it?"

Estelle’s jaw tightened and her fingers curled around the wheelchair handles. She leaned forward slightly, her heart hammering. "I don’t think I own it," she replied firmly. "I know I do. And I’ve owned it for as long as you’ve been learning to take a hit without crying."

The insult landed like a punch he hadn’t seen coming and Roman clenched his fists, his nostrils flaring.

The air between them crackled with tension.

"Well," he said, forcing a calm he didn’t feel, his gaze condescending. "I’m sure we can both agree that’s in the past now. So maybe you should get used to your new situation and stop pretending you are anything more than what I’m looking at. That ended a while ago."

Estelle’s eyes burned as tears threatened to spill. She said nothing. She could not because if she opened her mouth to speak, the tears would fall. Slowly, she lifted her chin. If he wanted to see her break, he would die waiting.

Roman noticed the look in her eyes and it gnawed at him, tugging at something he didn’t want to admit. Still, the deed was done. He turned back to Magnus. "I will not have her. She has to go."

Magnus’ gaze hardened. "Maybe Vance did not make the terms clear enough," he said, voice cold. "If you leave, you lose everything. If she leaves, you still lose everything."

Roman’s eyes widened, his disbelief was sharp enough to taste. "You don’t mean that..."

Magnus leaned in, his words hanging like a guillotine. "Your only choice, if you want to keep your inheritance, your place in the NHL, this family, the life you have now... is to stay."

"What a choice!" Roman scoffed, his fists clenched. "I will not lose everything over this..." he said, looking at Estelle once more. She still had that same look. The one that tugged at his soul, the one that made him feel something he could not explain.

Then he turned back to his father. "But tell me. Why her? Why would you choose her?"

Magnus paused, looking between them before he delivered the blow. "Because she knows what it feels like to fall from the top. She’s seen it. She’s lived it," he paused again, deliberately. "And she will be a constant reminder of what will happen if you fail."

The room went still.