Risking the Crown

by Violet Paige

  “Can I get another glass of champagne for you?” the flight attendant asked on his way through the aisle.

  I nodded emphatically. “Please.”

  It was true I was headed to Rio to reign in our highest paid ambassador for excessive drinking and partying, but I had eight hours to go—I needed another drink if I was going to make it.

  He returned to my seat within minutes and brought an extra plate of fruit.

  The lavish display reminded me of another reason I wanted to keep this job. I always traveled first class for the company. I stayed in the best hotels. My clothes were always new. I never wore the same suit twice. I had made it. Some people thought I had skipped a few rungs on the ladder, but I didn’t care.

  Revolution was the pinnacle in the industry. The company had its hands in everything electronic: equipment, music, and gaming. We had the best tech developers in the country. There was nowhere else I wanted to be. And I had the hottest video game on the market. The launch was in less than two months. The timing couldn’t be better—until last night.

  The marketing team counted on Kenzie walking away from the Olympics with a medal. He was already a world star in the sport, practically a household name. Anything he touched would sell, but for kids around the world, a video game with his name on it would be even more thrilling if he had a medal around his neck.

  Women loved him. The fans loved him. Kids wanted to be him. Getting him to sign for this game was a clear coup. But he had screwed it up. How was I going to sell games to kids if he was whoring around? What parent would let their child play a game whose star licked shots off women? I cursed myself, thinking we should have gone with Taylor Dirks, the squeaky clean dad. Sure, we’d lose the twenty-something demographic, but I wouldn’t have to deal with the angry email assaults and posts from parents who had to explain to their children why Lachlan Kenzie’s game wasn’t welcome in their house.

  It was a risk choosing Kenzie, but he was the edgier, sexier choice.

  I took the frosted glass and pressed my lips to the rim. The tiny bubbles slid down my throat as I released the death grip I had on the arm rest.

  When I awoke this morning, the last thing I expected was to pack a bag and head to the Olympics, but I didn’t see what choice I had.

  If I let Lachlan Kenzie keep on this rampage, he would take the Kenzie game down with him. And that meant my biggest account would lose its ambassador and I would lose my position. It had taken over a year to develop the game. I’d spent six months preparing for the release. I’d worked too long and too hard to let some privileged, egotistical asshole ruin my life.

  He was reckless. Arrogant. Selfish. All the things I wasn’t.

  He had to get his life under control while he was in Rio, and I was the woman who was going to make that happen.

  3

  Lachlan

  I sat at the bar while a lazy fan twirled overhead. I didn’t know what in the hell I was drinking, only that it made the hangover disappear in an instant. Liquid lunch worked for me.

  “Another round.” I held up my glass to the man behind the counter.

  He slid a cold drink across the bar. I slung it back, feeling the sting hit the back of my throat. The sweat beaded across my brow. It was hot as fuck here for winter.

  Practice had ended hours ago. There was only one story that had emerged from the football world today. It was the only thing anyone was talking about. It didn’t help that we were a week out from Opening Ceremonies and the press was looking for anything to report. They were like sharks sniffing for blood.

  The ticker ran along the bottom of the TVs mounted to the wall.

  Lachlan Kenzie walked out on the UK football team after night of debauchery.

  I glared at the headline. What did they expect? I was surrounded by pricks. They didn’t have boots or a kit for me. The pitch wasn’t ready. I wasn’t going to stand around while they got their shit together. I had played my share of amateur matches. I was done with it.

  I reached over the counter, grabbed the remote, and hit the mute button. I didn’t want to hear any more speculation on why I left. I knew what a cock up the whole thing was, and that was the only thing that mattered.

  “Bad day?” the bartender asked.

  I nodded. The locals seemed laidback. But the last thing I needed was someone snapping my photo and announcing to the world I was in this bar. Last night I didn’t care, but my world was closing in on me today.

  They couldn’t touch me inside the village. The press wasn’t allowed to enter, but out here I was fresh meat to them. A juicy story to devour one bloody bite at a time.

  I kicked the stool out of the way. It was growing dark outside. I paid for my drinks and pushed the door, emerging into a blast of heat.

  I shoved my hands in my pockets and kept my head down. But before I turned the corner, the flashes came out of nowhere.

  “Fuck,” I muttered, putting my hands up.

  “Lachlan, why did you leave practice?”

  “Have you quit the team?”

  “What did your mates say when you walked out?”

  “Are you boycotting the Olympics for political reasons?”

  I started jogging toward the village, but they swarmed me, making it a fucking nightmare to get away from them. They were on my heels. It didn’t matter if I turned down a side street or stayed in broad daylight. They tripped after me like yapping puppies.

  “All right, bugger off,” I spat at them. I had enough. I finally stopped to address the crowd.

  “Come on, Lach. Tell us what’s going on.”

  “Give us a statement about practice,” they demanded.

  I didn’t talk to the paps. There were some guys who did. They loved it. They loved this. But I fucking hated it.

  “Statement? You want a statement?”

  One of the photographers shoved a camera in my face, grazing my cheek, and the flash went off. I felt the warm ooze of blood trickle into my mouth with a metallic taste.

  I didn’t think. I didn’t come up with a way to handle him. Everything in my body fired with instinct first. My fist reared back in a solid mass and I punched forward, slugging him and knocking him to the ground.

  “What in the hell?” The photographer rolled on his side, gripping his nose. He looked horrified at the blood on his fingers.

  I stood over him, clenching my fists.

  If I thought it was bad before, the mayhem grew to a frenzy as soon as his back hit the pavement.

  “You hit me, you bastard.” He looked up at me, startled. “I think you broke my nose.”

  “You shoved a camera in my face.” I was ready to beat the shit out of him, but I was suddenly aware of what was happening around me. No one gave a shit that he had cut my cheek and I had blood splatters on my shirt to prove it. I wasn’t the victim here.

  There were recorders, cameras, and a small crowd gathered on the street.

  I took off in a full sprint, not looking back.

  I knew I had royally fucked up this time.

  4

  Aspen

  As soon as the wheels hit the tarmac, I powered on my phone.

  “Come on, come on.” I coaxed it to life.

  My heart seized and my chest tightened. “No, no, no. Not now. Not possible.”

  I scrolled through the headlines. I saw the alerts pop up on the screen. Oh my God.

  “Everything okay?” the flight attendant asked.

  Now was not the time for more champagne. I nodded, but I knew my face gave him a different answer. There was nothing okay about what happened. He moved on to help prepare the plane for passenger arrival.

  “Welcome to beautiful Rio de Janeiro,” the captain announced over the speakers.

  My phone rang and I hesitated to answer it. I knew what my boss was going to say before I heard her voice. There were more headlines—worse than the ones from last night. My trip had just risen to level def-con five.

  “Hi, Karen.”

  “Aspen, th
ank God. Are you there? Where is he?”

  We were still taxiing toward our gate.

  “I just landed. As soon as I get my bags, I’ll find him.”

  “It’s worse. He’s out of control.”

  I closed my eyes. “I know. I saw the latest headline.”

  “Bring him back to center.”

  “I will,” I promised, but I had no idea how I was going to do that.

  Lachlan had just punched a member of the Brazilian paparazzi on camera. The photographer was threatening to sue him. Things had snowballed faster than I could have imagined.

  I thought I was flying in to deal with a hell-raising partier. Now he was being labeled as unpredictable and violent. The brand could drop the British soccer star before I even had my first conversation with him.

  “And if you don’t, it’s going to cost us millions. Millions. Development is finished. The game is already in the hands of reviewers. If we drop him…” Her words trailed off.

  “I know it is.” She didn’t need to tell me what stage of production I was dealing with. I had made the Kenzie game my life.

  “I will handle it.” It had become my standard response. It worked, but I didn’t usually have sponsorship problems like this. Lachlan had taken things to a new level.

  There was a silence on the line. I was waiting for my boss to tell me that the other thing on the line was my job, but she didn’t need to say it. We both knew without this account, I was finished.

  “Karen, I need to get to customs. I’ll call you as soon as I talk to him.”

  “It doesn’t matter what time. Call me.”

  “I will.”

  I hung up and waited to be escorted from the plane. I was quick to dodge the passengers ahead of me on the jetway so I could make it to the front of the customs line. I didn’t have time to waste. If Lachlan could lose his shit while I was in the air, he could be a complete loose cannon. He could have half of Rio burned down by the time I made it to the hotel.

  I presented my passport at the counter and waited nervously while the customs official scrutinized my paperwork.

  He studied it as if I had handed him counterfeit bills.

  “It’s all right there.” I smiled. “Have you been busy with the Olympics?” I asked, trying to speed up the process with a little small talk. “I bet it’s non-stop,” I added. “This is my first time in Rio.”

  He raised one eyebrow, inferring I wasn’t the one who was supposed to ask the questions.

  I clamped my lips together and stood behind the glass. Finally, he slid the booklet through and I tried to look calm as I hurried to baggage. National security was important—I got it. The entire world was descending upon Rio, but they had no idea what kind of chaos I was dealing with. I had to get to Lachlan before he cost me everything.

  5

  Lachlan

  I hated social media. It was a fucking joke. My phone blew up with texts and alerts. My name was smeared across every damn sports headline in the past hour. It was worse than this morning and the splash about the girl in the bar. Worse than walking out on practice. Everything was balls up in Rio. There was only one person who could get me out of it.

  I looked at phone. Rick had called three times.

  I finally phoned him back. It rang a few times before he answered. “Hello, Rick.”

  “Don’t start with that bullshit,” he fumed. “What the fuck is going on out there? I started calling this morning. Why haven’t you taken my calls?”

  I had walked from the street where I left the photographer bleeding on the sidewalk. It seemed like wherever I tried to go, people were staring at me. I didn’t know if it was because they recognized me, or because they were now afraid I was some kind of bloody lunatic.

  I paced along the edge of the athletes’ village. I still had to pass through security before I could check in to my room. According to the equipment crew at the hotel this morning, my travel bag was already deposited here. It was a safe haven for now.

  “You know how the press is. The guy shoved a camera in my face. The idiot swiped my cheek with his lens. He cut me, Rick. So I shoved him.”

  “You shoved him? Great.” Rick paused. “And you walked out on practice? Both in one day.”

  “They weren’t ready for us. There was no practice. No kits. No boots. The pitch was being worked on. Did you expect me to sit on my arse the entire time?”

  He groaned. “I don’t know what I expect anymore. I’ve already had calls from Dorsey, Aid-Thirst, and Skillz. While you’ve been shagging every girl in Brazil I’ve been trying to put your business back together.”

  “What did they want?” I asked. Those were my biggest endorsement deals.

  “They’re threatening to drop you. Revolution has flown someone out there to have a meeting.”

  “Why in the hell would they do that?”

  “You have a video game with them that is supposed to launch in two months. Have you forgotten? You’re a loose cannon, Lach. You’re a liability for any of these companies now. Don’t you see that?”

  I shook my head, feeling the tension seize around my shoulders.

  “No, I play football. There’s no other keeper out there like me. We have contracts. They can’t touch me.”

  “Contracts that can be broken if you violate the morality clauses,” he reminded me. “Revolution is the biggest electronic company in the world. If you don’t take the meeting with them seriously everyone will cut you.”

  “I’m no different than I’ve always been. If they don’t like it, they can—”

  “Do you even hear yourself? I can’t do this anymore, Lach. I’ve tried. Really I think I’ve given you every chance, but I can’t represent someone who doesn’t give a damn about his brand. You are a one-man wrecking ball.”

  “What are you saying?” I could feel the sweat rolling down my neck.

  There was silence on the other end of the call. I heard sirens in the distance. Rio was a noisy city.

  “I’m saying that I have to end this relationship with you. I can’t be your agent any longer. I’m tired of the outraged phone calls. I’m tired of being threatened. I’m tired of being asked to babysit you. It’s bullshit. You’re a damn talented footballer. But I’ve had enough with your personal life. It’s too much stress. There’s not enough money anymore to make it worth it.”

  I had an instinct to fight for my cause. To ask him to stick it out with me, but it evaporated as the anger took over.

  “Fine. We’re done.” I gnashed my teeth. Years of loyalty meant nothing to him. I wasn’t about to beg.

  “That’s it? You don’t have anything else to say? No apology? Nothing?” he asked, raising his voice more than one octave.

  “I’ve got nothing for you. Good luck finding another star, because I’m moving on.” The words felt bitter on my tongue, but as soon as I said them, I couldn’t reel them back in.

  “I’ll send you the paperwork.” His voice was clipped. “Goodbye, Lachlan.”

  I didn’t bother with a goodbye. I hung up and shoved the phone in my back pocket.

  I realized things had gone from bad to worse. But I didn’t need Rick. I could handle my own press. I could handle the sponsors, the teams, the Olympics.

  I didn’t need him. I didn’t need anyone.

  6

  Aspen

  Armed with suitcases filled with designer clothes, I waved down a cab outside of baggage claim. I didn’t have time to go to the hotel. I needed to find Lachlan Kenzie. I instructed the cab driver to take me straight to the Olympic village. I read the UK teams moved into the village today.

  Revolution’s sponsorship came with privileges. I had a pass that would get me in the village. I should be able to find Lachlan. So far, he hadn’t answered any of my calls and neither did his agent. I wasn’t stupid. I knew I wasn’t the only executive after Lachlan. He had endorsement deals with numerous companies. If they had all flown here I was going to have to fight for time with him.

  I star
ed at the high rises towering in front of me. How was I going to find him in there? The village was its own city. I knew there were over ten thousand athletes here. If I had to search every building and every floor I would.

  I handed the driver a wad of cash and pulled my luggage from the backseat. He sped off toward the airport to make another run. He had been more talkative than the customs agent.

  There was a line half a block long at the security checkpoint. I retrieved my ID badge from my purse and roped it around my neck.

  I was operating on a few hours of sleep. The heat wrapped around me, and I had to wrestle my bags into position behind me. They bumped over the sidewalk as I stood in line behind a girl that was easily six feet tall. I wondered what sport she competed in. I sized her up as a volleyball player or maybe a rower.

  Thirty minutes later I made it through the metal detectors and started my hunt for Lachlan. The buildings were divided by country. I couldn’t imagine the nightmare of working out the political logistics of placing each team based on preferences and cultural demands. The United Kingdom was grouped together in building three.

  I rolled my suitcases behind me, looking for numbers on the buildings.

  I passed by a small tropical oasis filled with bright flowers and a cascading waterfall that trickled into the pool. A game of volleyball had broken out between the most perfectly toned people I’d ever seen in my life. I tried not to gawk as I walked past them, but it was like something out of a magazine. Their muscles glistened under the lights of the pool as they laughed and splashed in the water.

  I forced my gaze straight ahead and marched into the third building in the row. I tilted my bags upright in front of the concierge desk.

  “Hi, I’m here to see Lachlan Kenzie. Is there a way to page him or can I go directly to his room?” I asked.