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I parked the car at our own stadium, climbing out and closing the door behind me. Vince climbed out of the passenger seat, sighing. I walked ahead of him, running a hand through my hair while making my way inside and straight up to James' office.

Right before we left from New York, James called me and said he wants to see Vince and me in his office as soon as we get back, so rather than driving him home, I drove straight to our rink, where James' office was. I stopped at the door, yanking it open and holding it for Vince while I stared blankly ahead.

He walked over, stopping in front of me. It seemed like he wanted to say something but he decided against it, sighed again, and kept walking. Good.

I don't want to hear anything from him right now. I don't even want to hear anything from myself. What the hell was I thinking? Vince wasn't right when he yelled at me this morning but he also wasn't wrong. I should have stopped him, I was a little less drunk than him but I was still drunk nonetheless. And I didn't lie when I told him that I didn't stop just because I didn't want to. I really didn't want to stop.

But neither did he and knowing him, he'll walk into that office, throw it all on me, play the victim and say he was drunk and had no idea what he was doing.

I rolled my eyes as we walked up the stairs. Vince, of course, pushed the door and strolled right in without knocking. I walked in behind him, closing the door behind me slowly.

James was on the phone with someone while typing on his computer. "Isn't there anything you could do to get the article off your website, Mr. Thomas?" His eyes flicked over to me and shined with disappointment. He shook his head, turning back to his computer. "That's not what you said a couple of seconds ago," he barked, "I want that article off your site now unless you'd like to be in trouble as of legalities, Mr. Thomas. Stick to your fucking word." He slammed the phone down and used the mouse to send off an email before turning to us.

I remained standing by the door while Vince went and sat in the chair across from James.

He turned to me and then nodded to the chair. "Sit."

I walked over, pulled the chair, and plopped down.

He stared between us, shrugging and lifting his hands. "What the fuck happened?"

I sunk into my chair while Vince huffed, gazing out the window.

"I asked you both something. What the fuck happened?" he repeated, taking a deep breath and keeping himself calm. "Demi?"

"We..." I stared at him. "We were drunk."

"Both of you?"

"Yeah," I mumbled.

"Why both of you?"

"It was the after-game party," I explained.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And whose room did you go to?"

"Mine," Vince gritted out.

"Why?"

"I was wasted, she went to drop me off."

"Drop you off? Well, what happened to that? Why didn't you leave?" He lifted his brows at me.

"I just..." I glanced at Vince. I didn't want to throw him under the bus like he would probably do to me. "I knew I should have left, but—"

"But what?!" James snapped.

I sighed, lowering my head and staring at my shoes.

"But what, huh?" Vince asked him. "What do you think?! I asked her to stay, okay? I fucking held her there. Is that what you want to hear?" I stared at Vince as he said the last thing I expected of him. "I asked her to stay. I was drunk, I thought she was pretty, I asked her to stay, then I kissed her. Then what? Do you want to hear the rest too? Can you not figure it out?!"

James glared at him, leaning back and heaving a breath. "How did neither one of you think, just think to stop?!"

"I did," I said quickly, "but we didn't..."

"Care?" James finished for me. "Were you both really just that desperate and needy that you threw everything to shit just to fuck around? Vince?"

Vince didn't reply, his thumbs twiddling in his lap.

"Demi?"

I cringed, looking away from James. "We didn't think anyone saw us," I mumbled.

"That doesn't matter, guys! You have a contract that you both signed! You are not allowed to have any sort of personal or intimate relationship, what part of that didn't you understand?" He turned to me. "You've been doing this job for two years, how did you mess it up now, Demi?" He glanced at Vince, fuming. "And you. You know how much we struggled to find you an assistant like Demi, she's the best you've ever had, how did you not even consider that before fucking this up?"

"That wasn't exactly on my mind at the time, sorry," Vince spat angrily.

"You should be! That should have been the only thing on your mind as you lost control over your thoughts and body! This is un-fucking-believable. What am I supposed to do, huh? What do you think I should do?" He looked between us.

I ground my teeth. "Follow the contract," I mumbled.

"No," Vince said sternly. "We can't follow the contract, this is different. Demi's different. The rules don't apply."

"The rules do apply, Vince," James scolded, "there's nothing I can do. We have to follow the contract. Demi..." His eyes met mine. "We have to let you go."

"No," Vince snapped. "It doesn't matter what happened, we can't fire her! Take care of the press and... it'll die down. It has to. People will forget, we'll claim it's a lie and people will stop caring. We dealt with these rumors before."

"Before. When you didn't fuck each other," James scoffed. "The guilt is written on your faces."

"We'll lie," Vince persisted.

"You can't just lie! People saw you, Vince! Worse comes to worst, they could release hotel footage! Do you realize that?!" We all paused and sat silently for a minute. "Vince, at the end of the day, no matter how good of an assistant she is, she's just your assistant. The rules that would apply to any other assistant also apply to her. We fired Mimi for breaking the contract."

"Mimi leaked personal information!"

"Demi slept with you! Compare the two, I dare you!" James reasoned. He sighed, turning to me. "You need to leave. You two can talk it out, whatever you need to talk about. You can give everything back to him on your own, I'm not interfering. His penthouse key, his gear, anything you have, return it to him. And you, Vince..."

I turned to look at Vince. He stared at the table, his jaw ticking.

"Let her go," James sighed. He hesitated before reaching over to the printer and bringing out a typed resignation letter. "Sign it. We'll say you quit, nobody will know you were fired."

"She's not fired," Vince grounded out.

"She is and you better fucking get that through your head," James said sternly, sliding the papers with a pen to me.

I stared at it and let out a shaky breath. I can hate this admission as much as I want, but that won't make it a lie. James is right. It's simple. I broke the contract so I must be fired. That's it, no arguments. I reached for the pen, only for Vince to snatch it out of my hands.

"James, do something! It's your job to help me!"

"I am helping you," James said softly this time. "Maybe it's for the best. We'll find someone just as good as her. We'll try." He faced me. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"I understand," I cleared my throat.

"Plus..." James hesitated. "You're not dying. You can see her outside of work. If you want." He stood up. "I have magazine owners to meet now, thanks to you two. Both of, sign where you're meant to on those papers and leave them there. Demi, you can go home. Vince, you better go home." And then he left.

I turned to Vince, shifting in my seat. "Give me the pen."

"No." He pulled it back. "It wasn't just your fault."

"The contract says otherwise," I mumbled, standing up and reaching for it.

"Fuck the contract!"

I stared down at him, one hand on the back of his chair as I reached for the pen with the other. "Vince, don't make this worse. Just let me go. You... you can find another assistant, just how you found me. I'll even help you find one and train her without people finding out, you won't even realize I'm gone."

He stared at me, shocked. "How can you say that, Demi?" He shot up. "You've been around for two years, do you really think I don't see you? Do you think I see through you? You can't leave." He pulled the pen behind his back.

I put an arm around him to grab the pen but tripped over the leg over the chair, falling into him. He put his free arm around me, steadying me. He stared down at me, his jaw hard, his whole body tensing. "You have to let me go. I have to quit this job," I explained slowly. "Your whole reputation is on the line."

"So is yours," he replied.

I chuckled dryly, "I'm not star hockey player Vince Hunter. People only know me because I'm your assistant. In a couple of days, it'll be someone else. I'm nobody. And the smart thing to do would be for me to quit. I don't deserve this, neither do you. I know I shouldn't be paying alone for a mistake we both made, but I signed that contract when I started working for you, I knew what I was doing. Give me the pen and let me go."

He hesitated but held up the pen for me. I reached for it and he snatched it away. "Demi—"

"Vince, stop," I said sternly. "Give it to me."

He sighed, thrusting it in my hand and taking a step back. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry," I mumbled sarcastically. I turned to the papers, scribbling my initials onto each page and then signing the last page like I was meant to. I slid it over to Vince since I needed his signature too. But I didn't wait for it. "I'm leaving. I'll take my stuff out of your car and leave the keys with security. I'll drop by your apartment, probably when you're at practice so nobody sees us or thinks anything wrong. I won't even go upstairs, actually. I'll leave your apartment keys at the reception and any hockey stuff I have to.

"I'll bring over your schedule for the next month, you can give that to your new assistant," I sighed, standing there and looking at him as he sat back down, staring at the papers. "Thank you for giving me the opportunity to work for you these past two years. Good luck with every future game. Knock three times."

He turned to look at me.

I forced a small smile and took a few steps back. "Bye."

He sighed.

"Asshole," I turned around and pulled the door open, leaving, biting back a sigh.

He couldn't help, he couldn't save me from being fired.

Fucking liar.

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