It takes me a while to recover before I head downstairs to start mythrillingday back in Elm Hollow.
Yes, that was sarcasm.
I don’t know why, but embarrassment clings to me like a second skin—
and it only gets worse when Dominic looks up from his laptop, half-smirks, and asks,
“Sleep well?”
I nearly flinch.
What?
Does he know?
How the hell does he always know everything?
He can’t. It was just a dream.
Still… that question isn’t like him. Dominic doesn’t do casual.
“Yeah!”
Too loud. Definitely too loud.
I scan the room. Nate’s not here. Thank God.
Because the last thing I need is to land on his mental shit list under the heading:
Becker fantasizes about the coach’s daughter.
27
An Impossible, Infuriating Tightness in My Chest
Sloane
I mentally prepped for this session.
Breathe. Stay neutral. Be professional.
Easy.
I inhale.
One. Two. Three.
Everything’s fine.
I’m a CEO.
I run a matchmaking agency.
I handle difficult clients every single day.
One soccer player cannot throw me off my game.
Until Cohen Becker opens the door.
