Chapter 5 The Offer

Mia’s POV

By the next morning, the video had over two million views.

Two million.

I stared at my phone in complete horror while standing behind the counter at Rosie’s Diner.

“Champagne Girl Strikes Again.”

“Ethan Cross Rejected Twice In One Week.”

“Enemies to lovers energy???”

I hated the internet.

“No seriously,” Sophie said from beside me, scrolling through TikTok. “People are fully shipping you guys.”

“There is no ‘you guys.’”

“Mhm.” She snorted. “Apparently the internet disagrees.”

I shoved my phone face down on the counter.

“This is exactly why social media should’ve never been invented.”

The diner bell rang before Sophie could answer. More customers flooded in and Rosie immediately started yelling for coffee refills.

Perfect.

The entire morning passed in a blur with people staring at me like they recognized me from somewhere.

Which they probably did.

By ten, the rush had thinned out to a few stragglers nursing coffee. I was wiping down the counter when the bell above the door rang.

I didn’t look up right away.

“We’re still on breakfast if you want a table.”

“I’m not here to eat.”

The voice was polished.  

I looked up.

My stomach dropped.

Because I knew exactly who that was.

Ethan Cross’s mother.

She was dressed in a cream blazer that probably cost more than three of my monthly paychecks combined. Blonde hair blown out perfectly. A posture so straight it looked architectural.  

For one terrifying second, I genuinely thought she was going to sue me for assaulting her son with champagne at her charity gala.

“Mrs. Vance, I want to apologize for what happened at your event. It was completely out of line and I take full responsibility. Whatever you need from me to make it right, I…”

She raised her hand and I stopped talking.

Then, surprisingly, a soft laugh.

“Oh, yes. About that…”

“I’m really sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene at your event.”

“Oh, you absolutely caused a scene,” Sandra replied smoothly. “I just haven’t decided whether that was a bad thing yet.”

I blinked.

“What?”

“I’m not here to sue you, Mia.”

I blinked. “You’re not?”

“No.” She nodded toward the back booth. “Sit down.”

I sat. She sat across from me, folded her hands on the table, and looked at me without any of the anger I had been bracing for.

“You know,” she said calmly, “I did not appreciate having champagne thrown in my son’s face at my gala.”

“I apologize.”

I braced myself for the rich-person lecture from hell.

Instead, Sandra leaned back slightly and said:

“But frankly, it was refreshing.”

I stared at her.

“I’m sorry?”

“You seem to be the only person at Whitmore who isn’t intimidated by Ethan.”

I felt myself relax. “That’s because he keeps finding new ways to get on my nerves.”

One perfectly shaped eyebrow lifted.

“I noticed.”

Sandra folded her hands neatly on the table. “Most people react to Ethan the same way. They either worship him, fear him, or excuse him. Very few people are willing to challenge him.”

“Well, somebody should.”

Again, that faint amused look crossed her face.

“You called him out publicly.” She tilted her head slightly. “And despite that, he keeps gravitating back toward you.”

Something about the way she said it made heat crawl up my neck.

“What do you mean?”

She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone before sliding it across the table toward me.

A video filled the screen.

Me and Ethan outside Derek’s party.

His hand around my wrist.

The argument.

The way he looked at me right before I walked away.

Comments flooded the screen underneath.

THEY’RE OBSESSED WITH EACH OTHER.

This better end up on Love on Ice.

The chemistry is ridiculous.

I wasn’t sure what to do with any of that, so I stayed quiet and waited.

Sandra continued calmly. “Ethan needs image rehabilitation. The NHL scouts are concerned about his behavior, and your viral videos together have done more for his public perception in forty-eight hours than months of media training.”

I stared at her waiting for her to get to the point. 

“Ethan is joining Love on Ice,” she said. “It’s a reality dating show. Hockey players, their partners, filmed over eight weeks. His coach is requiring it as a condition of keeping his starting position.”

“Okay,” I said slowly.

“I want you to be his partner on the show.”

I looked at her for a long moment.

“Mrs. Vance,” I said. “With all due respect, I can barely stand your son.”

“I know.”

“So how exactly am I supposed to be around him for an entire show let alone be his partner?”

She didn’t answer right away. She just watched me, unhurried, like she had already thought through every version of this conversation.

“The same way you already have been,” she said finally. “By being exactly who you are. You don’t shrink around him. You don’t perform for him. You push back.” She paused. “That’s the only thing that’s going to make this believable.”

“Believable,” I repeated.

“The internet already believes there’s something between you. Two viral clips in three days. You’re a story. And right now, Ethan needs a story that makes people see something other than a temper.”

I leaned back. Crossed my arms. “Let me guess, if I don’t do it, you’ll sue me.”

She laughed. “Oh God no. Ethan deserved what he got.”

“Okay. Then no.” 

“I think you’ll want to hear the rest before you decide that.”

I leaned back. Crossed my arms.

She reached into the inside pocket of her blazer and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She slid it across the table without unfolding it.

Harlow Recovery Center.

My stomach dropped.

“Your mom is in rehab, isn’t she?”

“How do you know about that?” I asked. My voice came out quieter than I intended.

“I do my research.”

I swallowed. 

“I also know the facility requires full payment through the ninety-day program, and this is what, her third program?” Sandra said. “You’ve covered the first three weeks out of pocket. The remaining balance is due in nine days.”

My fingers tightened around the edge of the table.

“I will cover the remaining balance,” she added. “And any extended treatment if her doctors recommend it.”

The air in the booth felt tighter than it had any right to be.

I had been working three jobs on rotation. Catering shifts at events I could barely stand, late nights at the diner, tutoring sessions squeezed between lectures. I even sold a textbook I still needed just to cover the first part of her rehab.

I stared at her. She stared back.

“There’s more,” she said. “Love on Ice awards a scholarship to the winning couple at the end of the season and fifty thousand dollars, split between partners. You’ve been ineligible for every school-funded scholarship since your first year. This one has no restrictions. You qualify.”

She had done her research.

“And if we don’t win?” I asked.

“Win,” she said.

My throat tightened painfully.

I tried to convince myself it made sense. The money would stop the constant counting in my head. The extra shifts. The quiet panic every time a bill was due. It would take pressure off in a way I had not managed to do on my own in a long time.

“What are the terms?” I asked.

“You agree to be Ethan’s partner for the full run of the show. You perform the relationship convincingly. You don’t quit.”

“Okay.”

Sandra didn’t look surprised.

That somehow made me feel worse.

But before I could say anything else, her expression sharpened slightly.

“One condition.”

Of course there was.

“What?”

“You cannot tell Ethan I approached you first.”

I frowned.

“As far as he knows,” Sandra continued, “joining the show has to be your choice.”

A bad feeling settled heavily in my stomach.

Because nothing about this felt normal.

Or safe.

But desperation had a way of making terrible ideas sound reasonable.

So against every instinct screaming at me to run…

I nodded.

“Okay.”

Sandra smiled slowly.

And for the first time since sitting down, I realized something horrifying.

She knew I would say yes before I ever walked into the café.