“There is always something to lose, Mr. Wolfe.”
Again, with the truth. Sheesh. She’s not wrong, as the wordplaybookdrops into my mind like a thick tome. The pages flip, and the word grows in volume in the exact tones of Declan’s, Chase’s, and Grey’s voices.
I can’t let the guys down.
Not only that, but if my brother found out I was kicked off the team—it’s the only thing that has me on the leaderboard. Well, and my millions. My success after years of failure means everything to me. The goal of getting to where I am kept me alive. My success is a gratifying sort of revenge after years of struggling to survive.
I sit up and square my shoulders.
Let’s do this.
The corners of my new teacher’s lips turn up ever so slightly. I fight against matching her expression or saluting her in a Pavlovian response at a mere crumb of her approval.
She says, “Now that I have your attention, if it helps you, you may think of me as your personal coach.”
Oh, it’s personal.
“Mr. Wolfe, I am here to guide you, help you overhaul areas of your life, and teach you manners.”
“So no brawls?” I ask, unable to help myself. “No pranks?”
She doesn’t say a word, as if her silence is enough of a response. “We have an interview now, an evaluation at dinner, and then, based on my findings, I will tailor a plan unique to you that we will review and perfect in the coming week. After that, we will be leaving the manor campus for real-life reform school where?—”
“Freedom.” I pump my arm and whoop.
“This isn’t a prison sentence, so that is hardly the case. As I was saying, off-campus, I will be offering real-time coaching. You will have the opportunity to apply the lessons you learned here. You’ll be evaluated and if I find you have made sufficient progress in the various areas of aptitude, I will give your actual coach and commissioner my final review saying you passed. If not...”
I shrink back into the chair. “You’re all business, huh?”
“What else would I be?” She folds her hands one over the other in the picture of perfect poise.
I shift to put my feet on the table again, then think better of it. “I’m not used to women like you.”
“Women like me?” With the posture and grace of a dancer, she turns away slightly as she speaks. If I’m not mistaken, I detect a faint smile.
What will it take to coax another one out of her? Then I call a penalty on myself. I’m not the kind of guy totryto get a woman to smile. They’ll get accustomed to wearing a rosy-glow grin and come back for more.
I prefer to keep things simple. One and done. It’s safer and smarter to keep her expression dialed to a stern scowl.
8
CATELINE
Working with Connor is going to be like herding cats, only he’s a wild dog, a wolf if there ever was one. I have my work cut out for me.
“Shall we begin the interview?” I ask.
“This isn’t a job.”
“Have you ever had one of those?” The snarky little question pops out of my mouth before I have a chance to stop it. My life is a finely tuned balance, like moving across the floor in pointe shoes. I can’t let the likes of Connor Wolfe throw me off or cause me to stumble. I won’t let him see a ripple of frustration. I’ll carry this off with the poise and grace with which I was trained.
He barks a laugh. “I’ve had many jobs.”
“Given your arrogance, cockiness, and rudeness, I find it hard to believe you’re employable.”
“I didn’t say I kept the jobs.”
“Figures.” A furrow tries to crease my brow, but I resist it.
