Page 52 of Her New Billionaire Bosshole

“There…?” I ask, scooting forward in my seat and picking up the paper, sending her a confused glance. “What is this?”

“It’s a sign-off from Molly,” Lena says, her body barely contained, shaking. “She’s cleared me to play.”

Something heavy and uncertain drops in my stomach.

It’s been a week since I burst into that conference room. A week since I realized it was true, that he decided to sell the team. A full seven days since I blocked his number, made it clear to everyone here that if he showed up, I didn’t want to see him under any circumstances.

Everything is falling apart. I’ve already started preparing, trying to figure out what a new owner might mean for the team. Trying to make sure that when it changes hands, I can protect as many of the people here as possible.

I told Elliot that he would be a fool to fire me, that I’m the heart of this team, and that’s true — but it doesn’t mean that another owner might not care about that. Plenty of rich assholes don’t give a fuck about heart, if it affects their bottom line.

Which means I’m not even sure if I’m still going to have a job at the end of the season

“Coach?” Lena prompts, her smile slipping a bit, the look on her face wavering between joy and worry. All the players have been shooting me concerned glances lately, and I know why. I’ve been moody, snappy, quick to anger.

All because of a man.

I feel stupid, naive for letting him in like that. For falling so fast, even though I got a solid read on him straightaway. If my grandmother was alive, she’d be singing herI told you so.

“Sorry.” I shake my head, focus on the paper, find Molly’s looping signature at the bottom of the page. It takes me another moment to process it. Molly has cleared Lena to play.

“Isn’t it great?” Lena says, bouncing from foot to foot. “I can play on Friday! We’lldefinitelybeat New York if I play.”

I’m shaking my head before I realize it’s what I’m doing, and the shift of expression on Lena’s face is murderous.

“Don’t you have tryouts for the Olympic team?” I ask, shifting my eyes to hers. “In just a few weeks?”

“Coach, are you hearing yourself?” She lets out a quick, incredulous breath, sticks her hand on her hip. “Yeah, I do! And I’mhealthy. So I can play in the playoffs, then do the tryouts. In fact, I’ll need the time to prep, to get fully back into the flow of things, get that competitive edge?—”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Lena.”

She goes quiet, and I can tell she’s doing her best to compose herself. Her ability to control her emotions has come a long way since the beginning of the season.

Finally, she says, “I want to play. I’m healthy. I don’t understand what the problem is.”

“Molly cleared you, but what if you push it?” I stand up from my desk, shaking my head and thrust a hand into my hair. Normally, I would have braided it, but I didn’t have the energy this morning, so it’s a wild, unkempt mess from my hands constantly going through it. “What if you go too hard, and reinjure yourself?—”

“So what if I do?” Lena throws her hands up in the air, her voice raising. “Soccer iseverythingto me. I want to play. And I just don’t get why you won’t let me!”

“Because!” I throw the paper down on the table, take a step toward her. “You are more than just a soccer player, and you’re more than just a player here for Dallas. Of course we want to have you, but at the risk of your entire future career? It’s just not worth it, Lena?—”

“You want to know what I think?” Lena shakes her head, steps away from me, and crosses her arms over her chest. “I think that you’re, like,projectingonto me! So you got hurt, and it ruinedyour career, and I’m really sorry that happened to you, but Iam notyou, okay?”

“Lena—”

The fury, confusion, and frustration all tangle up inside me until it’s impossible to get my words out. Lena turns and goes, pushing her way out of my office much like she did all those months ago. When Elliot was waiting in the hallway just beyond the door.

Thrusting my hands into my hair, I pace back and forth in my office, staring at the pattern in the carpet and sweating furiously.

Ever since the storm, my air conditioner has been out, unable to turn back on even once the power returned to the building, and it’s stifling in here quick, even with the gentle breeze through the window.

When I emerge into the parking lot, my car is the only one left. The other players left a while ago, and Lena must have come straight over after her appointment with Molly. She’s long gone now.

It’s for the best. I still don’t know how to explain it to her — that I ignored my coach, too. Pushed myself too hard. Ended my career before it could ever really start.

I make my way out to the pitch, hoping there’s something I can pick up. Like stacking cones or tidying loose balls might help me to organize my thoughts.

But the field is immaculate, not a single thing out of place. It’s also dark — the lights off, nothing but the moon above and the glow of the city to illuminate the night.