Parker (Face-Off Series Book 1)

by Jillian Quinn

  “You’re the boss now, silly. It’s okay to take advantage of that power.”

  “Just because I got the promotion doesn’t mean I can throw it in everyone’s faces, and you’re not one to talk. When was the last time you went out for lunch?”

  “Last month, with you. Duh, Jameson,” I say with a smirk.

  “You should be getting overtime for all the lunches and dinners you miss for work.”

  I laugh and nudge him in the arm. “I’d like to see the look on Mickey’s face if I were to ask for paid lunches and dinners on top of my commission. Besides, we just expense those meals to the clients.”

  I flip up the plastic tab on my coffee and take a sip, checking out the happy couples and children skating around us with smiles on their faces, wishing I could share their same enthusiasm.

  “I really do need to get back within the hour.” Jamie’s tone grows serious. “We’re demoing the beta version of that app I showed you to a client this afternoon. If I can impress their CTO, it’ll be huge for my firm. It might even lead to another promotion or more profit-sharing options.”

  “I have no doubt that you’ll sell it. You have nerd superpowers that people can’t resist,” I say with a genuine smile.

  Jamie hugs me tighter and plants a kiss on my cheek. “Do you want me to get the skates?”

  “Yeah, you know my size.”

  Jamie hands a twenty-dollar bill to the woman behind the counter and rambles off our skate sizes.

  After we lace up our skates, we make our way onto the ice, somewhat unsteady and needing to hold on to the ledge until we get used to balancing our weight on the blades.

  Jamie laces his fingers between mine, and I clutch his hand tight, afraid I might fall without support. We start to pick up the pace, one revolution around the rink, before I feel comfortable enough to let go of Jamie, but I don’t because I want him close.

  “Do you remember the year we skipped school, so we could go down to Millennium Park before it got too crowded to skate?” Jamie grins, his eyes scanning the bustling city around us.

  “How could I forget?” The memory makes me chuckle. “That cop tried to chase us across the ice without skates and busted his ass.”

  He laughs so hard that he snorts. “And then his partner came in after him, freaking out, and tripped when he tried to help him up.”

  “Good times. We were such punks back then.”

  Jamie shrugs, and his shoulder brushes against mine. “Maybe, but we had it rough. How many kids have to deal with what we did? We’re a dynamic duo, you and me.”

  My face hurts from smiling. “True. No matter what, we always have each other. I don’t think I would’ve made it this far without you, Jamie.” I position my hands in the air, as if I’m about to shoot a basketball, and say, “You’re the Pippen to my Jordan, the Shaq to my Kobe,” I finish by flicking my wrist, as if I had just taken the shot.

  Jamie shakes his head. “Of course you make a basketball reference, but I prefer Jobs to Wozniak.”

  “And there you go with your computer references. I guess we’re even. The sports junkie and the lovable programmer—they should write a book about us. You’re such a nerd, Jameson O’Connor…but that’s why I love you.”

  We come to a stop and move to the side, leaning against the ledge to make room for other skaters.

  “Love you, too.” Jamie throws his arm around me and kisses my hair. “Happy birthday, Charlie.”

  I lean my head on his shoulder, a smile already on my face. “How much longer do you have until you have to get back to work?”

  He slides the sleeve of his jacket up to inspect his watch. “About five minutes, and even that is pushing it.”

  After the morning I had, this is the perfect start to my afternoon. There’s no one else I’d rather spend this day with but Jamie, except for my parents. Unfortunately, because of their addiction, I never knew most of my family members. The ones who were around when I was a kid didn’t hang too long after my parents turned into full-blown junkies. I couldn’t blame them with my parents always asking for money to support their habit and pretending it was to support me.

  Jamie elbows me in the arm to get my attention, and I lift my head from his shoulder.

  “Is that who I think it is?”

  Skating down the center of the ice, I spot the most graceful and gorgeous specimen of a man, all two hundred twenty pounds of muscle and sex appeal, barreling toward us.

  Why is Alex in Philly, and why is he here?

  My heart races at the sight of him in jeans that hug him in all the right places and a fitted black sweater. He turns heads everywhere he goes, and now, people are stopping to take a second look.

  But I hate him…or at least I want to hate him. The feelings I’ve developed for Alex over the past few months are so strong that I have no idea how to process them. My mind and heart are not in sync because one tells me he’s a jerk and to forget about him, and the other wants the man who holds me in his arms until I fall asleep at night.

  Before I can get in a word, Jamie steps in front of me, facing off with Alex, and pushes his hand out to stop him. “She doesn’t want anything to do with you, Parker. Don’t go ruining this day for her.”

  “Just let me explain,” Alex says, making eye contact with me and ignoring Jamie. “It’s not what you think. I know how that picture looks, but I didn’t drink, and I never touched that girl. I ate dinner with Kane and Donovan and went up to bed right after. By myself,” he stresses.

  Biting down on my lip, I fight back the tears that are welling in my bottom lids. I hate that I care enough about him to shed a single tear. This week, alone in my bed and waking up with painful nightmares, hasn’t been easy without Alex there to comfort me. I never need people. They need me. But, lately, the tables have turned, and I’m finding that all my rules that were meant to protect me are also what have been hurting me.

  “She doesn’t care,” Jamie says, raising his voice. “Don’t do this here and on today of all days. Just let her go, and move on. Charlie was fine before you came along.”

  Alex places his hands on his hips, looking perplexed. “What do you mean, today of all days? Because it’s Valentine’s Day? Look, sweetheart, I sent you flowers and jewelry earlier, but your secretary refused the delivery of them. I wanted to be here with you, but it’s out of my control when I’m on the road.”

  “Today is her birthday, jackass.” Jamie shocks me with his boldness. He’s always been very protective of me, but to get in Alex’s face takes some nerve. “She doesn’t need you to send her flowers or jewelry. All she needed was for you not to be an asshole.”

  Alex glances down at the ice for a few seconds and sighs. “I had no idea that today was your birthday.”

  He skates around Jamie and stands at my side, taking my hand in his. I want to shrug him off, but I don’t because it’s freezing cold, and he’s keeping my hand warm.

  “That means, it’s your parents’…shit! Charlotte, I am so sorry, baby.”

  “How could you do that to me, Alex? I took you in when you needed help, believed you when you said you wanted to be with me and no one else. Even if I could pretend that you didn’t hook up with the girl at the restaurant, how do you explain the girl you were seen with at the airport?”

  To say that Alex looks confused would be an understatement. “What girl at the airport? I came here alone. As soon as I saw that picture, I left Dallas and got on the first flight out here.”

  I remove my cell phone from my jacket pocket, thankful I bought special gloves that allow me to use my iPhone with them on, and open my email before shoving the phone in Alex’s face, so he can see the skank from the TSA line.

  His mouth and eyes widen. “I don’t even know her. She was just some girl who was standing behind me in line and needed help. They asked her to remove her shoes, and she almost fell over, so I offered her my arm. I was being nice. I honestly didn’t think anything of it at the time. She was going to Little Rock to se
e her grandmother. It was a two-minute conversation. I promise, Charlotte. Nothing happened.”

  “No, I don’t want to hear it, Alex,” I say, shaking my head in disgust. “If it was one picture, maybe I could see it as a coincidence, but two—”

  “C’mon, babe, you can’t take the word of whoever snapped this pic over me.” Alex does something completely unexpected and drops to his knees, still holding my hand, and looking up at me with those gray-blue eyes that make me melt. “I wouldn’t be here, begging you to hear me out when I have a game in six hours, if I wasn’t telling you the truth. Do you really think I’d jeopardize my career if I was lying?”

  He has me there, and now, I’m stunned, unsure of what to say in response. Alex’s incredibly thoughtful and adorable gesture warms my icy heart.

  “As your coach, I order you to get back on a plane to Dallas right now.” I raise my hand and point toward the exit of the rink. “Don’t talk to anyone. Just get your ass to that arena before you’re out of a job.” I bend down to meet his height and end up falling flat on my butt. “Ow!”

  Alex laughs and moves closer. “That seemed like one hell of a speech you were about to give before you hurt one of your best assets. Want me to rub it all better?”

  “Seriously,” Jamie moans. “I’m right here, for fuck’s sake.”

  We all burst into laughter, including Jamie, who seems less guarded than before. He’s well aware of my feelings for Alex, whether he likes them or not, and he’d never interfere if he thought that would make me unhappy.

  Alex helps me stand because he’s so damn comfortable on skates that it’s as if we were on concrete and wearing sneakers. For the five minutes we were talking, I didn’t notice the entire rink had come to a complete halt, their cameras and cell phones in hand, which almost seems par for the course when it comes to Alex.

  Not until I hear people whisper, “Did she say yes?” does it register that not every situation is what it seems.

  Like right now, for example.

  Coach

  “Coach, get your ass in here!” Mickey yells into the intercom on my desk so loud that I can hear his gruff voice travel down the hall from my office. “Right now!”

  I haven’t had a taste of Mick the Dick in years, not since we almost lost a major client when I was first starting out and still getting the hang of how things worked in this world. I cross my fingers and say a silent prayer, hoping I’m not being fired.

  “I’ll be right there.” I press the button on the phone to end the call before he can get in another word.

  This is about Alex and the scene he made at Dilworth Park. Alex has no self-control, allowing his emotions and needs to do all the thinking. While I can understand that not every situation is what it seems, like what happened at the ice-skating rink, that does not excuse him from constantly making an ass out of himself in public. And, now, he’s made an ass out of me. Reputations and appearances matter in this industry.

  Placing my palm on the desk, I use it to support my tired body as I rise from the chair. Last night was rough in terms of sleep because I had about an hour of it before the alarm clock went off. I lucked out that Alex went straight to the airport, leaving no time to talk before or after his game.

  As soon as I saw the people behind us taking our picture, I knew this relationship was doomed. And, now, I’m doing my death-row walk toward Mickey’s office, on edge and scared for my career, rubbing my clammy hands down the sides of my skirt to wipe off the sweat.

  Veronica, Mickey’s assistant, waves me on as I pass her desk without as much as a word with her eyes focused on her computer screen, which scares the shit out of me. Out of all the years we’ve known each other, she’s never given me the treatment that’s usually reserved for employees who are about to get fired.

  I’ve watched dozens of employees do their walk of shame out of Mickey’s office and to the elevators. Despite what they showed in the movie Jerry Maguire, no one ever has this sudden epiphany where they try to rally the troops by making long, awkward speeches, and they most definitely aren’t taking the goldfish with them—or, in DMG’s case, the piranhas. I always thought it was pretty fucking convenient that Mickey chose fish with strong jaws and sharp teeth that could tear off an arm. On my way out the door, I will most definitely leave the piranhas.

  Mickey drove from our office in New York this morning just to make a special appearance for me. Yep, I’m fucked. He has every right to be pissed about Alex.

  When I step through the door, Mickey has his back to me, staring out the window at City Hall. I clear my throat to let him know I’m here, and he turns around, his hands fumbling to loosen the gray-and-white-striped tie dangling around his neck.

  Judging by the looks of him, he’s had about as much sleep as I have had lately. We haven’t seen each other in close to two months, and he seems older, more worn down. He’s relied on me more since John’s death.

  Will he really fire me over this?

  “Take a seat,” he growls, pointing at the conference table to the left of his desk. Disappointment registers first on his face before changing to irritation. He glances down at a stack of newspapers on his desk, his lip quivering in anger as he gathers them.

  After everything I’ve worked for and all the years I’ve spent trying to make something of myself, I’ve given it all up for Alex Parker. Granted, it’s been the most amazing sex of my life, and I’ve finally found someone I can connect with, other than Jamie, but is it worth it?

  “You know, I’m used to Alex screwing up.” Mickey drops the papers onto the conference table and takes a seat in the chair in front of them. “But I never expected this from you, of all people. Have you read these yet? Have you seen the filth some of these rag mags are spewing about you and me?”

  Mickey has yet to look me directly in the eyes. My mouth is so dry that my tongue feels like paste. Leaning close enough to inspect the newspapers, I see similar headlines to what I saw this morning on social media. “From Bunny to Bride” is on most of the papers with different angles and shots of Alex on his knees on the ice, begging for forgiveness.

  I was humiliated when I first saw the posts about our secret love affair. Up until yesterday, Alex did everything he could to protect me, but no matter how many times I tried to deny it, none of the reporters I spoke to believed my story.

  But there are more than just pictures of Alex and me. They have pictures of me in my Villanova basketball uniform, posing alongside Mickey. There must be at least a dozen different shots of Mickey and me at charity events and championship games. And the newspapers think—

  Oh no, this cannot be happening to me…to Mickey. Not after everything he has done for me.

  A chill runs through me, and now, I’m the one who’s afraid to make eye contact.

  Mickey folds his arms over his chest, and he sinks back into the leather chair. “You know, when I told these jerk-offs that one of my agents would never fraternize with a client and that there was no way Coach would do that to me, I thought the papers were lying. Now, everyone in the industry is calling into question how we do business here at DMG. They want to know if you’ve worked out the same deals for other clients as you have with Alex.”

  The reason I resisted Alex, constantly bringing up Mickey’s rules and calling into question the lack of professionalism our relationship would set, was because I wanted to avoid this moment. After growing up mostly parentless, I found a friend and a father figure in Mickey, which is why I didn’t want to risk my relationship with Mickey over a fling with Alex.

  He continues, staring down at the papers in front of him, “I know I haven’t been around a lot lately, and I’ve left you with most of the responsibilities around here. This is my fault. I blame myself for this. If I were more present, you never would’ve had to deal with Alex directly, and we could’ve avoided this mess.”

  “I’m sorry, Mick,” I say in a hushed voice. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I was only trying to help him. Alex was drinki
ng and partying heavily when we first met. I didn’t want him to blow his shot with the team, so I took him in and helped him get back on track. We never meant for this to happen.”

  Mickey finally glances up at me beneath thick, dark brows and sighs. “He’s been playing better since the trade. But I can’t excuse this behavior from you. What kind of example does this set for other agents? If I allow an employee and a client to date, it sends the message that it’s okay, and fraternizing with other employees and clients is forbidden at DMG.”

  “I don’t want to lose this job, Mick. You know this means everything to me.” Struggling to fight back my tears, I plead, “Please. I will do whatever it takes to keep my position. You can trust me. I’m still the same person I was before I met Alex. Nothing has changed.”

  “Some things cannot be fixed, Charlie,” he says, sliding a magazine in front of me with his index finger. “Look at what they’re writing about us.”

  Horrified, my mouth and eyes widen at the article in front of me that reads, These agents know how to take one for the team.

  The story talks about how Mickey pimps me out to our clients. They’re even claiming that Dante Fisher signed with DMG because of my talents that extend outside the office.

  Motherfuckers!

  My entire client list is on display with pictures of me either hugging them or standing at their sides. Plenty of agents have the very same photos with their clients. I even have some of these on a table in my apartment.

  As I peek up from the paper and lock eyes with Mickey, I want to cry. I can feel the tears in my eyes, threatening to break free, but this is not the time to have a meltdown. I need to act as if this doesn’t bother me even though I’m dying on the inside.

  “We can get a retraction printed.” I push the paper away from me and sit back in my chair. “I’ll make some calls.”

  Mickey shakes his head, his lips pursed. “Howard is working on it, but the articles that are already out there cannot be unseen. I have a certain reputation in this business, and that reputation is the reason the top players sign with DMG.”