Just My Hockey Roommate’s Filthy Desires by Esther Pen novel Chapter 282

muted streaks of yellow and white.

I sat behind the dark oak desk, listening to the soft hum of the encrypted laptop in front of me. On the high- resolution screen was the final legal draft my corporate litigation team had spent the last forty-eight hours putting together.

Beside it lay the complete, unredacted surveillance package on Viktor’s wiped servers and Julian’s paper trail -every wire transfer, every encrypted chat log, every desperate middle-of-the-night query.

Marcus knocked twice on the heavy wooden door before stepping inside. He didn’t say a word. He simply walked across the thick carpet, placed a thin manila folder on the exact center of my desk, and stepped back, his hands clasped behind his back in a disciplined stance.

“It’s done, boss,” Marcus said, his voice flat, neutral, and thoroughly professional. “Julian received the physical delivery at his private sports agency twenty minutes ago. Signature confirmed by his talent manager.”

I didn’t open the folder immediately. I already knew every line of text written inside it. I had reviewed the drafts line by line at three o’clock yesterday morning while Aria lay sleeping soundly in our bed down the hall.

“How did he take it?” I asked, leaning back into the soft black leather of my chair and resting my hands together in front of me.

“He tried to turn the courier away at the lobby desk,” Marcus reported quietly.

“He claimed he wasn’t accepting personal mail at the office. Until he saw the heavy parchment letterhead from your personal legal firm and the attached draft of the criminal affidavit. His manager took one look at the red cover sheet and forced him to take the package into a private conference room immediately.”

I turned my head, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window at the rain slamming against the glass high above

the street.

Julian had wanted to play games from the dark. He had wanted to buy leverage on the black market, slide into the shadows with street fixers, and wave old corporate documents in Aria’s face to intimidate her into submission.

He thought that as long as his ice hockey career remained pristine, as long as the sports commentators praised his squeaky-clean image on television every night he could sling mud at my reputation without taking a single scratch himself.

He had miscalculated. Completely and utterly. The legal package delivered to Julian wasn’t a civil lawsuit meant for a public courtroom where news reporters could turn it into a spectacle.

It was a formal, ironclad Cease and Desist backed by a sealed criminal dossier. It laid out every single illegal transaction Julian had made to Viktor’s offshore accounts over the past two weeks.

It detailed the exact time, date, and IP address of the three-minute call he placed from his car outside my

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My Hockey Roommate’s Filthy Desires

face lightened by the morning sun.

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Julian had tried to break us with legal threats, emotional guilt, and corporate blackmail. But out here, standing in the cold mountain air with Brandon’s arms locked tightly around me, I knew the truth.

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