“Brantley Beck, Carlos Greer, and…” She nibbles on the back of her iPad’s pen, lost in thought. “Coach Dawson.”
“Dawson is too old for Mia.”
Erika’s brow quirks behind her black-framed glasses. “Dawson’s your age.”
“I’m too old for Mia.”
“Good thing you’re not interested in dating her, then.” She looks back at her lap and turns her iPad off. “But I’ll make a note. Would you like me to pass your opinion along to Dawson, or…?”
I swear the woman is too snarky for her own good. Clearly, we have worked together far too long if she doesn’t fear me the way most do. It might bother me if I didn’t rely on her so much. She is practically family at this point. Annoying but indispensable, and she knows the truth as well as I do.
Leaning back in the leather office chair, I stare out at the skyline and mutter, “Keep it to yourself, Erika.”
“Got it.” With a smirk, she stands and heads to my office door but hesitates and turns back toward me. “How’s Scarlett doing, anyway?”
I swivel my chair toward her, my gaze narrowing. Erika never asks about Scarlett. She doesn’t like her. I’m not entirely sure why, but my girlfriend has always rubbed Erika the wrong way. Even though my assistant is always professional, the subtle huffs and eye rolls whenever Scarlett is around have not escaped my notice. Why would she ask about Scarlett now?
“Scarlett is fine,” I answer carefully.
“Still traveling?”
“She came home last night. Why?”
She taps the iPad stylus against her chin and asks, “Isn’t she the same age as Mia?” Not giving me a chance to answer, she shrugs one shoulder and adds, “It doesn’t matter, of course.”
Suspicion swells in my gut. The woman is speaking in riddles, and I have enough on my plate without having to deal with her meddling.
Leaning forward in my chair, I warn, “Get to the point, Erika.”
“I’m curious if Scarlett plans to attend this week’s away game with you?” Erika returns. “I want to ensure I’ve booked the correct number of rooms.”
“If she’s staying with me, I’m not sure it matters how many rooms you book,” I point out.
“No offense, but we both know she can be a bit…particular when it comes to amenities and such.”
“Yes, I’m aware.” My annoyance flares, and I rub small circles in my temple. “Don’t worry about making any arrangements for her.”
“Oh?”
“I have a theory that Scarlett is cheating on me.”
“A theory?” Erika prods, yet she doesn’t look surprised.
My phone signals another incoming text, but I don’t check it as I hold Erika’s unreadable stare. “That will be all.”
“Of course.”
As she leaves, I pick the phone up, scanning the message.
Mia
Here’s another one so you don’t get your panties in a twist.
I watch the short ten-second clip showcasing Thorne and Taylor passing drinks to each other and grinning while “When You’re The Best of Friends” from The Fox and the Hound plays in the background. It’s ridiculous. And cringe-worthy. Yet I find my amusement sparking and end the video early so I can type my response.
Me
Approved.
Mia
Thanks again, Professor.
Professor.
Makes me want to pull a ruler out and smack her ass, but I refrain from playing the scenario in my mind and set my phone back on the desk––again––despite the itch in my fingers to write her back.
Yeah. Pretty sure the girl will be the death of me if I’m not careful.
She may wind up being the death of Dawson too.
And Greer. And Beck.
Part of me wonders if it was a good idea to pass on implementing a no-fraternization policy, but I have never had one, and I refuse to allow Mia to crawl under my skin long enough for it to affect how I run the team.
I have more willpower than that.
Don’t I?
Besides, I have enough problems with the opposite sex, and it’s past time I rectify the situation.
11
HENRY
Scarlett’s red dress hugs her slim figure as she sways toward me. This one is different from the dress she wore to the banquet a few weeks ago. The one I ruined in the bathroom when I ripped the flimsy fabric up to her waist and shoved myself deep inside her.
Her dresses are almost always red.
It’s Scarlett’s favorite color.
I had booked our dinner reservation for 9 pm. I glance down at my Rolex. It’s nine-thirty.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Scarlett apologizes. She kisses my cheek and sits across from me.
A waiter strides toward us almost instantly, balancing two empty goblets. He sets them down in front of us and pours the Petrus 2016 red wine into the glasses. He opened it when I arrived, allowing the oxidation process to begin. Now, it’s time I enjoy it. Or at least, I would if I was sitting across from anyone but Scarlett. After my conversation with Erika, I concluded my patience with this woman is nearly nonexistent. Even the feel of her lips on my cheeks seems lacking.
Insignificant.
This needs to be done. Quickly.
After Scarlett asks for a salad with the dressing on the side, I wave the waiter off without bothering to add my order. I won’t be here long enough to enjoy it.
“You aren’t ordering anything?” Scarlett asks.
“Afraid not.” My phone buzzes in my pocket, interrupting Scarlett’s response.
Her red-painted lips pucker with distaste as she watches me pull it out of my slacks.
The message is from Mia, requesting my approval for another video. Without watching it, I type my response.
Me
Looks fine.
Mia
Gee, thanks. Did you even watch it, Professor?
Me
Do I need to?
Mia
Technically, no, but since you’re the pain in the ass who insisted I send them to you for approval, I assumed you’d take the time to actually APPROVE the content before allowing me to post. But hey. You do you, Boss.
“Who is it?” Scarlett questions.
I set my phone screen side down on the tablecloth. “No one.”
“You were smiling,” she notes.
I was?
I school my features and scratch the five-o'clock shadow along my jaw. “Am I not allowed to smile?”
“Is it a woman?” She reaches for her glass of wine and sips it.
“It’s an employee.”
“A woman employee?” she pushes.
I smooth a small wrinkle in the linen tablecloth. “I’m not sure why it matters, but yes.”
“Is she pretty?”
“This is starting to feel like deja vu from the Lions’ banquet,” I note. My eyes fall on the low ‘V’ showcasing her cleavage. “You’re even wearing a red dress and acting jealous.”