Chapter 1: The Wrong Ice

The Ridgemont Ice Academy always smelled the same—cold air, sharpened steel, and relentless ambition.

For most people, it was just another skating facility.

For Nadia Vasquez, it felt like home.

She had spent most of her life inside rinks like this. While other children remembered playgrounds and birthday parties, Nadia remembered early mornings, frozen fingers, and the sound of blades cutting across fresh ice.

At twenty-six, skating wasn't simply something she did.

It was who she was.

That was why she immediately noticed something was wrong the moment she stepped through the entrance.

Someone was already on her ice.

Nadia stopped walking.

The morning training session belonged to her. It had belonged to her for almost a year.

Nobody used this rink before nine o'clock except her.

Yet there was a man gliding effortlessly across center ice.

He moved with a precision that caught her attention instantly.

Not because he was showing off.

Quite the opposite.

Every movement looked controlled. Calculated.

Like he'd repeated the same sequence a thousand times until his body knew it better than his mind.

Nadia folded her arms.

The stranger completed a complicated footwork pattern and flowed into another one without hesitation.

For a second she simply watched.

Then she remembered she was annoyed.

"You're on my ice," she called.

Her voice echoed through the mostly empty rink.

The man didn't react immediately.

He finished the sequence first.

Only then did he stop.

Nadia wasn't sure why that irritated her more than if he'd ignored her completely.

The skater turned toward her.

Tall.

Dark hair.

Sharp features.

The kind of face magazines loved putting on covers.

His expression, however, was completely unreadable.

"I was told this session was available," he said calmly.

"It isn't."

"Apparently it is now."

"Apparently not."

For the first time, a faint spark appeared in his eyes.

Not amusement exactly.

Recognition.

Like he had finally found something interesting.

"Dominic Hartley," he said.

Nadia blinked.

She knew that name.

Everyone in competitive skating knew that name.

Dominic Hartley wasn't just another athlete.

He was one of the most respected ice dancers in the sport.

Also one of the most difficult, according to rumors.

"Nadia Vasquez," she replied.

"I know."

That annoyed her too.

"Then you should know this is my training block."

"And yet we're both here."

Nadia stared at him.

Dominic stared back.

Neither seemed interested in backing down.

Her phone buzzed.

She looked down.

A message from Coach Irina.

Nadia. Come to my office before skating. Important.

Nadia closed her eyes briefly.

Whenever Irina used the word important, someone's life was about to become complicated.

"You've spoken to Irina already," Nadia guessed.

"Yes."

"And?"

"And she said we'd discuss everything together."

"I hate surprises."

"So do I."

For the first time, his answer felt genuine.

That surprised her.

Without another word, she grabbed her bag and headed toward the coaching offices.

Irina Solokhova was waiting.

Of course she was.

The legendary coach sat behind her desk looking entirely too calm for someone responsible for ruining Nadia's morning.

"Sit," Irina said.

"I don't want tea."

"Good. More for me."

Nadia sat anyway.

"What did you do?"

Irina sighed.

"Such trust. After all these years."

"What did you do?" Nadia repeated.

"I solved a problem."

"Whose problem?"

"Yours."

That answer immediately made Nadia nervous.

Irina folded her hands.

"Your ranking points are no longer enough to guarantee entry into the Grand Prix Invitational."

The words landed heavily.

Nadia already knew this.

After withdrawing from Montreal earlier in the season, her ranking had slipped.

Still, hearing it out loud hurt.

"I know," she said quietly.

"You need another path."

"And Dominic Hartley is that path?"

"Potentially."

"He's an ice dancer."

"You're an elite skater."

"Those are not the same thing."

"No," Irina agreed. "But they are close enough."

Nadia laughed once.

Not because anything was funny.

Because the alternative was screaming.

"How long?"

"Fourteen weeks."

"Fourteen weeks?"

"Until the invitational."

"Irina, that's impossible."

"For ordinary athletes? Maybe."

"For me?"

"For you, it's merely difficult."

Nadia rubbed her forehead.

This was exactly how Irina operated.

She never saw obstacles.

Only problems waiting to be solved.

"And Dominic agreed?"

"Immediately."

That surprised Nadia more than anything else.

"Why?"

Irina smiled slightly.

"You should ask him."

A long silence followed.

Nadia thought about her career.

About Montreal.

About the months she'd spent trying not to think about opportunities disappearing.

Fourteen weeks.

It sounded ridiculous.

It sounded impossible.

Unfortunately, it also sounded like her only chance.

"Fine," she said finally.

Irina nodded as if she'd expected nothing else.

"Good."

"This is a terrible idea."

"Most worthwhile ideas are."

Nadia stood.

"If this goes badly, I'm blaming you."

"You always do."

"Because it's usually your fault."

Irina laughed.

Nadia left before she could change her mind.

When she returned to the rink, Dominic was exactly where she'd left him.

Center ice.

Waiting.

He watched her approach.

"Well?" he asked.

"Apparently we're partners."

"Apparently."

"I still think this is insane."

"Probably."

"That's all you have to say?"

"Not really."

For the first time, Dominic smiled.

It wasn't a big smile.

Barely there, actually.

But it changed his entire face.

"I think we'll be good," he said.

Nadia looked at him.

Then at the empty rink stretching around them.

Then back at him.

"Let's hope you're right."

"I usually am."

"Wow."

"What?"

"You're even more arrogant than the rumors said."

"And you're exactly as stubborn as yours."

For one second, they simply stared at each other.

Then, unexpectedly, Nadia laughed.

A real laugh.

Dominic looked mildly surprised.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing."

She stepped onto the ice.

"Let's see if we can survive fourteen weeks without killing each other."

Dominic pushed off beside her.

"That's a reasonable first goal."

Together, they skated toward the center of the rink.

Neither of them realized it yet.

But fourteen weeks would change everything.