High Risk Rookie

by Odette Stone

  “Everyone signed. Everyone agreed they never want to talk about last night again.”

  I snatched the contracts out of his hand and started walking towards security. “If we miss this flight, I’m blaming you.”

  The lineups in security were long and slow-moving, and as they repeatedly called our boarding gate, I came to the conclusion that we would miss our flight. My gaze burned into the center of his back. He had no idea how hard I was working not to freak out at him.

  On the other side of security, I found him waiting for me.

  “They just called last boarding for our flight. We’re at Gate 23,” I complained.

  “Let’s go.” He moved down the stairs at an alarming speed.

  I concentrated on navigating those stairs in my heels without breaking my neck. When we turned onto the next corridor, I realized with dismay that we were only at gate four.

  “We’ll make it,” he told me, “but we’re going to have to run.”

  I hated running. So much. Uncaring that I was touching him, I grabbed a handful of his big warm bicep and used it to balance while I took off my heels. “I told you to be here by eight.”

  He steadied me by putting a large hand on the center of my upper back, and through the thin fabric of my dress, his hand felt warm. The tile floor felt cool and hard on my bare feet.

  “You’re picking a fight?”

  Yes. I wanted to pick a fight. I wanted to blame him for everything. It was his fault that we were in this situation, that I wouldn’t be able to sign him, and that we would most likely miss our flight.

  “Move it,” I said through gritted teeth.

  We started to run down the long airport corridor. Beside me, he moved with ease. I pumped my legs as fast as I could to keep up, and I was already out of breath. “This isn’t a fight, and there is no debate. This is your fault, without exception. You were late.”

  It didn’t look like it was costing him any effort to keep pace beside me. “You don’t know my side of the story. Maybe we had a flat tire.”

  My lungs felt tight and hot. “Why were you late?”

  “I was drinking.”

  I was losing steam. I faltered as my legs slowed down against my will.

  “Shit,” I gasped.

  He looked back and then grabbed my hand in his. With strength, he kept me moving by yanking me behind him.

  With him as my personal tugboat, I used the last of the energy in my legs to keep pace.

  By the time we got to the gate, my heart was hammering hard in my chest and my lungs heaved. To my annoyance, he wasn’t even out of breath.

  “I told you we’d make it.” He looked back and motioned for me to get in line behind the few stragglers who were still boarding.

  “That’s not the point.”

  “What is the point?”

  The point was that because of him, I had been forced to run barefoot through an airport and arrive for my flight sweaty and out of breath. The point was that I had slept with him, and now everything was going to shit.

  I ignored him as I attempted to put my heels back on. “Just stop asking questions, okay?”

  He made an amused noise, but I refused to look at him.

  Our seats were in first class. He was seated in the window, and I sat beside him. I focused on my phone when we took off. I pretended he wasn’t there taking up all my legroom when the hostess came by to offer us drinks.

  Only when I was halfway through my double vodka tonic did I feel calm enough to address him. I looked at my phone and scrolled for an email. “Mark’s assistant emailed me. They are going to book a hotel for you, and tomorrow you’ll meet Mark Ashford for your tour.”

  “Will you be there?”

  I put my phone down and turned towards him. “I’m dropping you off at the hotel, and then we part ways. Are you listening? Tomorrow at noon, you’re meeting with Mark.”

  “Sounds boring.”

  I shivered as I turned off the air above my head. I hadn’t had the foresight to bring along a sweater. “If I were your agent, I would kick your ass for even saying that.”

  “You could change your mind.”

  I flagged the attendant who walked by. “Excuse me.”

  She stopped and smiled at only Levi. “Yes?”

  I refrained from rolling my eyes. “When you have a chance, could I have a blanket?”

  Her smile cooled ten degrees as she looked at me. “We’ve run out of blankets for this flight.”

  This trip felt like one big lesson I was too stupid to learn. “Thank you.”

  Beside me, Levi pulled his hoodie over his head. Without speaking, he tossed it onto my lap.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Put it on.”

  I should have argued harder, but the fabric was still warm from his body.

  “Put it on,” he insisted.

  I’d like to see anyone wearing a silk dress on an air-conditioned airplane resist that kind of temptation. Fuck it. I was so damn chilled. I pulled it over my head. It was miles too big, but it was so warm, and it smelled so good. I wanted to snuggle into it.

  “Better?” he asked, watching me.

  Way better. “You’re almost human when you want to be.”

  He pulled out his wallet and started looking through it. “You’d probably like me if you let yourself.”

  “Not in this lifetime.”

  He pulled a piece of paper from his wallet and stared at it.

  He didn’t respond to me. I watched as he carefully folded the paper and put it in his back pocket. Then he looked at me like he’d never seen me before. His expression was a mixture of disbelief and concern.

  “What?” I demanded.

  He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  I put my chair back, curled my feet under me, and worked to find my best position. “Wake me when we land.”

  He didn’t speak.

  As I burrowed into the seat, I stole a peek at him. He drained his glass and then motioned the air hostess for another.

  I woke up hours later with a dry mouth and a cramped neck. Beside me, Levi sat awake, staring out the window. In the dim light, his features were even more angular. This quiet, almost pensive side made my observation feel intrusive.

  As if he could sense my stare, he turned and looked at me. Something I couldn’t decipher was reflected in his gaze.

  I bit my tongue, refusing to ask if he was okay.

  Levi Ziegler was no longer my concern.

  I felt relief as I walked through the Vancouver airport, knowing this trip was almost over. Soon I could put this entire experience behind me. Mark had sent a car for us. It was early morning, and despite the bright morning sun, the air outside was cool. In the car, I ignored Levi, turned on my phone, scrolled through sixteen new emails, dealt with the critical ones, and then read the latest from Mark’s assistant.

  “They have a hotel room booked for you. I’ll drop you off.”

  He stared out the window and didn’t respond. I looked over at him. Gone was the flirt who teased. In his place was an intense, hard-to-read man who seemed indifferent to my presence.

  When we pulled up to a five-star hotel, he gave me an inscrutable look. “We need to talk in private.”

  I shook my head. “To say this has been a couple of trying days is an understatement. All I want to do is get home. This is where we say goodbye.”

  He dug into his back pocket and handed me his mysterious piece of paper. I rolled my eyes as I took it from him.

  It took me a moment to process what I was holding. Acta de Matrimonio. His name was carefully typed on the paper. Then, below his name, my name.

  “Is this a…?”

  “Yes.”

  It was a fucking marriage certificate with my name on it.

  Part of my brain knew I needed to get into work mode and deal with this emergency like an adult, but I could only sit there, staring at the paper. My hand was trembling, making the paper shake like a leaf.

  This is
a nightmare. My brain repeated that phrase over and over, but I didn’t seem capable of coming up with any other thoughts.

  “Krista?” he questioned.

  Everything I did was built on my reputation. This would ruin my reputation.

  Beside me, Levi patiently waited. “We need to talk. In private.”

  I still failed to speak. This will destroy my career.

  “Are you okay?”

  Ignoring Levi, I made eye contact with the driver in his rearview mirror. “Please take us both to my address.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The car pulled into traffic. For one terrible moment, I thought I was going to burst into tears.

  Levi started to speak, but I held up one hand, silencing him. I needed to deal with my own anxiety right now.

  Don’t think about it.

  Don’t think about it.

  Breathe.

  Don’t think about it.

  My face felt hot and my body cold. Somehow, I managed to breathe and keep my cool during the ride back to my place. In silence, we rode up the elevator to my condo. Without speaking a word to him, I walked to my bedroom, stepped inside, and shut the door before leaning against the back of it.

  My breaths were harsh and shallow. I bent over, my hands on my knees, as I worked to remember my deep-breathing exercises.

  How was I going to get out of this mess unscathed? And what about my family? I could never let my mom or my sister find out.

  We needed a divorce, which meant I needed a divorce lawyer. Jesus. What if this got out? This would ruin me. It would be like planting a bomb beneath everything I had worked for.

  I worked to unbury my logic from beneath my emotions.

  I moved to the bathroom and realized I was still wearing his hoodie. It was so big it hung past my hips. I took it off and then shivered as I pressed a cold, wet facecloth to my neck.

  What did Mark Ashford always ask me when I hit a crisis? I thought about that for a long moment.

  He always asked, “What is your priority, Krista?”

  I stared at my own reflection.

  My priority was to make this marriage go away, quietly and privately.

  I straightened up and looked at myself in the mirror. “You’re the best damn agent out there. Make this go away.”

  I found Levi sitting on my couch. I sat down across from him and worked to keep my voice cool. “What happened last night?”

  He didn’t look away. “Why don’t you show me that video? You have more of an idea of what happened than I do.”

  “I deleted it,” I lied, my face flushing hotly at the memory of our kiss on camera.

  He watched my face. “You sure about that?”

  I needed to switch gears. “Did your friends say anything?”

  “They said you terrified them and bossed them around all night.”

  I straightened up. For some reason, that made me feel marginally better. “Did they say anything about us getting married?”

  He shook his head. “Mike wouldn’t talk about it. He just kept telling me to look in my wallet first.”

  “I saw you look at that paper on the plane. That was the first time you saw it.”

  “Yup.”

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  “I wanted to think about it before we talked.”

  I thought about waking up on the plane and seeing him so contemplative in the dark. “There’s nothing to think about. This—”

  He interrupted. “You’re going to become my agent.”

  I knew he was up to something, but I just didn’t know what yet. “Drop that. That’s old news. This is our biggest fire.”

  He pinned me with a gaze. “If I get a different agent, what are the odds they find out about this?”

  I could feel the blood drain out of my face. I couldn’t let anyone find out about this. “Are you trying to blackmail me?”

  He shook his head. “No. Is Mark Ashford my only shot at playing hockey?”

  “Probably.”

  “And Mark asked you to come looking for me.”

  Exasperation flooded me. “What does this have to do with anything?”

  “I got you accidentally drugged, and then I married you. How do you think Mark would feel about that?”

  “He wouldn’t be happy.” With either of us.

  “If he finds out about this, my chances of playing are over.”

  He wasn’t far off. “Maybe.”

  “So he can’t ever know about this.”

  “What is your point?” I seethed, knowing exactly what his point would be.

  “You’re equally motivated to keep this on the down-low. We can quietly take care of this together with no one else involved.”

  Unable to meet his intense gaze, I shot out of my seat and walked to the window. I hated that he was right. If I sent him to another agent, someone who had their own private investigator, their own lawyers, and accountants, the odds of exposure dramatically increased.

  If I took him on as a client, I could make sure this secret remained buried. I would also financially benefit from getting Levi signed, which would put me back in the running to get on the Forbes list. At this point, keeping the secret about this marriage was my priority.

  I shook my head. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

  At the moment, while Levi’s career hung by a thread, he was motivated to keep this a secret. But what would happen once he got signed? Would he stay quiet when this marriage no longer impacted his career? Guys talked—especially hockey players.

  I needed private leverage on him. Indefinitely. I moved to sit back down across from him. “I’ll agree to become your agent on one condition.”

  He shrugged.

  “I want you to sign a contract that if you break your silence, you’ll owe me two million dollars.”

  He didn’t even react. “I don’t have two million dollars.”

  “You’ll have way more than that when I’m done with you.”

  “I’ll sign.”

  I looked at my watch. It was almost nine. We had three hours until Levi was scheduled to meet Mark. “I need to get ready, and then we need to go to my office before heading to meet Mark. You can shower in the bathroom down the hall.”

  “You’re coming to my interview?”

  I ignored him as I walked to my bedroom. My panic attack was firmly behind me. Now I was in power mode. I needed to shower, call my lawyer, and get in touch with my PI. We needed to get Levi some clothes worthy of an interview, dig up dirt on his old agents, and extract him from his current contract.

  I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror.

  Focus on the facts and things you can control. Like making this marriage disappear.

  Chapter Four

  Levi

  I sat on the couch, waiting for Krista’s bedroom door to open. She hadn’t liked the idea of becoming my agent, but she had seen the logic of keeping our marriage a secret. I winced at the thought that I had woken up married.

  I had already tried calling Mike twice to get more answers about what had happened, but he wasn’t picking up. I was starting to feel the effects of my hangover and our long flight. What my body needed was some food.

  The bedroom door opened, and she came out carrying herself like a queen. She wore a tight navy skirt that showed off the curve of her hips and a white blouse that was both professional and sexy. Her dark red hair was twisted up in the back, and her makeup was dramatic.

  She was gorgeous. She was also so off-limits it wasn’t even funny, but her attitude gave me thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking. Thoughts about having those bare legs wrapped around my waist. It killed me that I couldn’t remember anything from our night together.

  Ignoring me, she walked into the kitchen, turned on her coffee maker, and leaned against the counter to scroll through her phone.

  Every time she ignored me, I had the urge to get her attention. I stood up and moved towards her. “I need to eat.”

  She barely glance
d at me. “Mark is probably going to feed us lunch.”

  There was no way I could wait that long. “I need to eat before we get there.”

  “If you want something, help yourself. I’m not here to cook for you.”

  “Hostess with the mostest,” I joked under my breath as I opened the fridge.

  “No,” she cut in behind me, “that would be my mother. And trust me, the bird-of-paradise napkin fold did little to advance my career.”

  I could hear something beneath the sarcasm, some sort of emotion that made me feel bad about my flip remark. “I was just trying to get under your skin.”

  “You do that without trying.”

  I couldn’t help myself. “You love it.”

  She made a little noise of amusement. “God, I knew the moment I saw you that you would be so much trouble.”

  “I’m really not.” I turned my attention back to the fridge.

  She was struggling not to laugh. “Do you hear yourself?”

  She had three mini cups of expired fat-free yogurt, two stalks of celery, papaya juice, fat-free mayo, and five bottles of wine.

  I stood up. “I didn’t start this. You came looking for me in Mexico.”

  “Your friends drugged me.”

  “Not intentionally. And they drugged me too.”

  “You married me.”

  “You obviously said yes to the idea.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Not the point.”

  I was working to not laugh. “Actually, it is. And I don’t want to alarm you, but someone stole the food out of your fridge.”

  “I just went shopping.”

  “For what? Condiments?”

  She pulled a granola bar out of the cupboard and slapped it on the island in front of us. “Have one of these.”

  The entire bar was only ninety calories. I ripped it open and shoved half of it in my mouth. “I need about fourteen hundred more calories.”

  She gave me an exasperated look. “Why do men always get the high metabolism?”

  “Trust me, it’s a menace to feed.”

  She sighed and turned off her coffee maker without making coffee. “Fine. Let’s go.”