My Playboy Fiance

by Katerina Cole

  I needed a minute. I didn’t want him to see my defensive stance.

  “Thank you, Isaac. I’ll look into it." I began to rise from the seat, pushing my hands into the armrests. I needed them to steady myself.

  “That's it? Are we going to talk numbers?” There was a new flicker in his eyes. It made me catch my breath. He was intoxicating without even trying.

  “I’m not ready for that yet.”

  “When, then?” he pressed.

  “What if we meet again tomorrow?” I bit my lip nervously. I did need help with the team. I needed someone on the inside who knew the players. Someone who could guide me. “You could go into more detail. Tell me the specifics?”

  I caught the quick glance of his eyes to my breasts. Then they lifted toward mine. He nodded, rubbing the dark scruff on his cheek. “I can do tomorrow.”

  “Good. I have a lot of people to meet with today. I’m sure you understand. I’m not making any promises or decisions right away.” I smiled at him.

  “That's good to hear. There are a lot of men counting on you to do the right thing.” He reached his hand toward me, and for a second I wondered if he was going to wrap it around my waist and pull me toward him. I wanted to be pressed against his rock-hard body. Feel the indentations where muscle met bone. I had lost my mind.

  Instead, I remembered I was ownership now. My hand slid into his and I felt the roughness of his palm. I closed my eyes for a second, imagining what his hands would feel like tracing my body. There was a silent whimper on my lips.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He dropped my hand and turned toward the door. As soon as it closed, I collapsed into the chair. My knees had given out. I didn't how much longer I could have stayed in a room with Isaac Price.

  I never thought about what my grandfather did on a daily basis. Until today. My shoulders slumped, and I crossed my ankles under the desk, kicking the heels off my feet. I’d had one meeting after another. I’d met with the coach. I’d met with advertising and marketing. I’d heard from the building manager and the equipment specialist. The one thing I’d heard repeatedly from every man I met with was that there wasn't enough money.

  The one person who wasn't lined up to meet with me was our corporate accountant. He was the man with the money answers. I tapped the button on my phone, calling Candy. Within seconds she appeared in the doorway.

  “Did you need something, Vanessa?” she asked. I could tell she was practicing using my first name.

  I nodded. “Can you set up a meeting for me with our business manager?”

  “Sure. What day?”

  I realized I would not be able to grant any of the requests I’d heard without a full understanding of the money. Everyone wanted something from me. I didn’t know the extent of the accounts.

  “This afternoon.”

  “I will make sure to get him in here before the end of the day.” She smiled. “Do you want me to order lunch for you? You've been trapped in here for hours. It looks like you could use a little food.”

  “That’s very sweet, but…” I didn't know why I was arguing. My stomach growled. I had two cups of coffee and half a bagel this morning. I needed food.

  “Let me get it for you,” she offered a second time.

  “Ok, yes. Lunch would be amazing.”

  “No problem. I will go get something for you and be back in thirty minutes.”

  “Wait, Candy before you go, can I ask you something?”

  She paused at the door. "Sure. What is it?”

  I didn’t know how to phrase it. “Do you think you make enough money in your position? Are you paid fairly?” I shook my head, realizing how personal my question was. “It’s ok whatever you tell me. I won't be upset or offended. I just need to know. It would be a huge help.”

  She pressed her lips together. I didn't know anything about Candy’s skills. She was pleasant, and pretty. That might’ve been the only qualification my grandfather cared about. But while I was here I might as well check on her perspective. She was a part of this organization too. She knew everyone who ever stepped foot in this building.

  “I don't know how to answer that,” she admitted. She shrugged her shoulders. “I don't really think about the money I make working in the office.”

  “What do you mean? You get a paycheck, don’t you?”

  “There are a lot of perks for working with the football team. I’m here because I love all the benefits.” She grinned widely. “I’m not here for the paycheck.”

  It took me a second to realize what she was saying. “Ohh. You mean...” I immediately blushed, feeling naïve.

  Candy giggled. “I’m happy to tell you more, but maybe we should just leave it at that.”

  I nodded, suddenly uncomfortable and feeling more out of my element than ever. She basically admitted that she was here to sleep with players and accept gifts and money from them. What kind of world had I landed in?

  “I think that's best.”

  “I’ll be back with lunch. Hopefully no one will bother you while I'm gone. I left my number on the desk if you need me.”

  “Thank you, Candy.”

  I slumped in my chair, knowing I was drowning. Nothing made sense and I had no idea how to swim in water this deep.

  5

  Dylan

  There weren’t many people in this world who could relate to my life. To know what it meant to be a football god. To understand the pressure. The physical stamina it took to perform at the highest level every day my cleats crossed onto the damn field. The moment the chalky lines coated my shoes.

  But there was one. One man who got it. Who knew what I knew about the toll the game took on my body. Who knew how the sweat was more than physical exertion.

  He didn’t give a shit about the trouble I got in off the field. He didn’t care about how many women I fucked, or how many nights I didn’t go home. He didn’t give me shit about anything. The man was my best friend for a reason. He let me live my life the way I wanted—wide open.

  I knew Isaac planned on meeting with the new ownership today. That was just like him. He always had to have the first say.

  I shook my head. The locker room was full of bullshit talk. Guys had been worked up for two weeks. Some wanted to leave the team. They didn't want to give ownership a chance to screw them over again. They couldn’t see any other path other than to quit.

  I wasn’t wired like that. Quitting wasn’t in my vocabulary. Never had been. I liked winning at all costs.

  I knew what I wanted to do. Whether or not, I could pull it off was another story.

  I liked being a Warrior. I’ll rephrase that. I fucking loved being a Warrior. It was the only team I had ever played for. It was the only jersey I had ever wanted to wear. Growing up in College Station, it felt as if the Warriors were the home team. They were less than two hours away. Sure, some kids loved the Wranglers, but we weren’t one of those families. San Antonio was almost too far for a game-day drive. We were Warriors fans and that was the one place I had to play.

  On game day, my dad hung the team flag in the yard. It didn’t matter that it was tattered and the colors started to run together from being left out in the rain. He put it up, no matter the weather.

  They knew the colors. They knew the chants. They knew the leading scorers and retired jerseys, but what did my parents know about contracts? How did a ten-year-old boy know he had fallen in love with a broken program, a team that had never been on track? I didn’t know shit until the day I walked in the locker room.

  I was drafted from college. As far as anyone knew, I was living the Texas football dream. My parents couldn’t be prouder that a boy from College Station could play for the Austin Warriors. The family team. Texas’s team.

  I was a dick about a lot of things, but I wasn’t going to crush my mom’s pride with the truth. I kept them in the dark about the organization. I wasn’t going to kill the dream with honesty.

  My phone buzzed. I looked down at the text from Isaac.

>   Meeting went well, fill you in later.

  That's all it said. He was usually short on words, but what the hell? He met with ownership and couldn’t tell me what happened?

  It was time I took fate by the balls. There was a small window of opportunity to get what I wanted. I threw my helmet in the locker. It landed on the floor with a thud.

  “Where are you going, James?”

  I wasn’t in the mood to explain myself. Everyone was on edge since McCade died. There was too much uncertainty circling us.

  “Headed out for a while.”

  “You’re going to see her, aren’t you?”

  I whipped around to face Jackson Steele. The tight end was barely taller than me.

  “None of your damn business.”

  He laughed. “It’s a waste of time.”

  “Why do you say that?” I questioned. “Have you gone up there?”

  He shrugged. “No, but everyone says she doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing up there in corporate. My bet is we’ll be sold before the season is out. Pointless trying to talk to her. You’re going nowhere with that one.”

  I hung my head. “Shit.” Isaac hadn’t made it so sound hopeless.

  “Face it. There’s nothing we can do. McCade screwed us twice. Once, when he signed us and again when he left us with her.”

  “Fuck that,” I growled. “I’ll catch you later, Jacks.”

  “She’s just gonna bust your balls, man. I tried to warn you,” he called after me. “We have practice in an hour.”

  I charged out of the room with a new fire lighting my way. I wasn’t going to take his word for it. I walked down the corridor of the underground stadium tunnels, growing angrier with each stride I took.

  I tapped the button, waiting for the elevator to carry me to the executive level. Within seconds, it took me to the top floor. My fingers curled into a tight fist. I could feel the blood pump through the strained veins on my wrist. My dream wasn’t going to vanish because some spoiled rich girl inherited my team.

  The doors retracted and I stomped out. The executive suites were quiet. It looked as if it the entire place was empty. I rubbed the back of my head.

  I expected to see Candy, but she wasn't sitting at her desk. I walked past it, remembering the few times we had hooked up. She was a hot fuck. The kind of girl who loved sex just for the sake of sex. She had no attachment to me or any of the other guys. I smiled. Why weren’t more women like that? Unattached? Available for just the right thing?

  I was tired of women trying to take more than I was ready to give. I sure as hell didn’t want a girlfriend. I didn’t want commitment and all the bullshit that came with it. Candy seemed fine with a strictly fuck-for-fun arrangement.

  This might be a wasted trip, but I walked to the old man's office. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been here. I stayed away from McCade. I stayed away from Coach. All I wanted was to play the game. This kind of shitty drama was exactly what I tried to avoid. I was here now out of survival. If I didn’t try to save my ass, I didn’t know who would.

  I didn't bother to knock, assuming no one was here just like the rest of the office. But as soon as I opened the door, I realized how wrong I was.

  Fuck.

  I had never seen eyes that blue. Or lips that perfect.

  Her beautiful mouth opened, and I realized she was staring at me. I wanted to dive in—cock first.

  Her eyes were locked on my chest with a look of shock. I looked down. Shit. I had forgotten to throw on a shirt. I was wearing my warm-up shorts for practice and nothing else.

  “C-can I help you?” she stammered. I saw the blush rise on her cheeks. Damn. She was gorgeous. Nobody had mentioned how insanely hot she was.

  “I didn't think anybody was here,” I explained.

  “Well, I am.”

  “I see that.”

  She shuffled papers on her desk. “Are you looking for Coach Applewhite?” she asked. “He left my office a while ago.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I’m looking for the new ownership.”

  “Well you found her.”

  I didn’t expect to find a woman so beautiful in the old man’s office. “I did.”

  I took a step toward her.

  “Let me guess. You're here because you want to talk to me about money.” She sighed.

  I grinned. There was something about this woman that made me forget I had stormed up here ready for a fight.

  “How did you know?”

  Her eyes met mine. “I’m Vanessa McCade. You are here because of my grandfather. Or at least because of what my grandfather did. I've heard from a lot of your teammates today.”

  She seemed frustrated or sad. I couldn't tell. “Right. Your grandfather. I’m sorry about that.”

  “Thank you.”

  I didn’t wait for her to offer a seat, I pulled up a chair and sat in front of her desk.

  “I’m sorry," she whispered. “I should have just held a team meeting and let everyone stone me.”

  “What?” My body took up the entire seat.

  She shook her head, letting her loose blond curls fall around her face. “I’m sorry. That was overly dramatic. I know everyone’s frustrated.”

  “Yeah, they’re frustrated and scared as shit their contracts are going to be torn up.”

  Her eyes widened. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “No one around here knows that.”

  “I don’t know what else to say except I’m so sorry. I really am. I don't know what you make. I don't know what's in your contract. I really don't know what money there is. I haven’t met with payroll or accounting yet.”

  Her blue eyes drifted upward and my cock was suddenly as hard as a rock. It strained against my shorts. There was no way I was standing up any time soon. One look from this beautiful girl and I was hard as shit. What in the hell was happening? She was beautiful. Sexy. Soft and graceful.

  “When will you know?” I asked. “All the guys have been here. They need answers. My best friend was here.”

  “Your best friend?” I saw her blink back a tear.

  I nodded. “Yes. Isaac Price. He told me you two met. Thought I should come up here myself. I need my own answers.”

  “You two are the team’s best wide receivers and you are best friends?”

  I laughed. “At least you know what positions we play. That’s something. But, yeah, we go way back. We played on a Pee Wee together. Then in high school. Isaac left for the Navy half-way through college, but I got him into open practice here after he left the Seals. You could say we are practically brothers.”

  “Seals?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. He was a Navy Seal.”

  “Brothers,” she mouthed.

  “Something wrong with that?”

  She shook her head. “No. Nothing at all.”

  6

  Vanessa

  This couldn’t be happening again. I stared at the shirtless football player in front of me, hoping my mouth didn't drop open in disbelief. He was gorgeous. His muscles were chiseled and cut in ways I'd never seen. Little beads of sweat rolled from his collarbone along his pecks. I swallowed hard, imagining what the planes of his chest felt like.

  I didn’t want him to know that he had this kind of effect on me. He was clearly cocky. I could see it in his eyes. They were a light green, almost the color of jade.

  “So, what are you going to do?” Dylan James asked.

  “Excuse me?” I blinked.

  “How are you going to handle this mess? The team isn’t happy. No one is happy around here.”

  “You aren’t the first person to tell me that today. I've heard it over and over again.”

  I was exhausted. It was only lunch time and I’d heard nothing but complaints. Not a single compliment. I knew the sympathy comments were only out of obligation. The staff was unhappy. Management was unhappy. And the team was angry. They were like an army ready to fight, and pick up any weapons they could find and hurl them at this offic
e. I didn't feel like I had any allies or anyone who cared what I was going through. The only thing that mattered to them was money. They had made that perfectly clear.

  Dylan smiled. “Darlin’, I think you need to come up with a plan fast or you’re going to have a rebellion on your hands.”

  I should have cared that he called me darlin’. I should've said something to put him in his place. I was the one in charge, not him. But instead the word made my spine tingle and my thighs warm.

  “I’ll figure it out,” I explained.

  He leaned back in his chair, adjusting his large frame to the seat. “So, what did you do before you owned an AFA team?” he prodded.

  I pressed my lips together. I didn’t know what answer to give him. Whatever I said was going to make me sound like a spoiled rich girl. I was the one who grew up in a million-dollar estate on the Texas hillside. It didn't matter to him that my grandparents raised me, and their life had been lonely for me. I never knew my mother. My father died when I was five. It wasn’t a happy story, regardless of how much money I had.

  He didn’t need to know about my irresponsible brother. He didn’t care that I was carrying the family on my shoulders right now.

  “I’ve always been interested in the family business,” I lied.

  “Really?” he smirked. “So, your grandfather groomed you for this position?”

  His questions got under my skin, leaving me feeling rattled and uneasy. But it may have had more to do with his intense stare. The way his eyes made me feel. The heat I could almost feel radiating from his smooth chest. Whatever it was, I was completely shaken.

  “My grandfather made sure I was always around the business,” I explained “I don’t want you or any of the other players to worry. You're in good hands. I promise. I take the Warriors very seriously, Dylan. I know this is your career, and I’m going to make sure we have a winning season.”

  I don’t know where the sudden movie-esque speech came from. It felt foreign on my lips. As if some other girl had spoken the words, not me, the artist. Not the girl who was forced into a life of football when she would have rather been at an art museum or in a studio creating something beautiful.