"You're not going to watch?" I asked Hastings.
"I'm working."
"You own the team. You should watch."
His fingers paused on the keyboard. Just for a second. Then he resumed typing. "I can read the match report later."
"It's not the same."
"It's efficient."
I grinned. Hastings and his efficiency. The man would schedule his own heartbeat if he could.
The screen flickered to life. The stadium filled my view, thousands of fans packed into the stands, the pitch bright green under the floodlights. The commentators were already talking, their voices crackling through the tablet's speakers.
"Welcome to Twickenham for what promises to be an exciting match between—"
I tuned them out, scanning the field for Etienne. There. Number seven. He stood with the rest of the team, his jaw tight, his eyes focused.
He looked good. Dangerous.
The whistle blew, and the match started.
Fifteen minutes in, and Etienne was playing like a man possessed.
He tackled the opposition's fly-half so hard the man went down like he'd been shot. The crowd roared. Etienne was already back on his feet, charging after the ball.
"He's playingwell," I said.
Hastings grunted. He'd closed his laptop ten minutes ago and was now watching the screen with the kind of focus he usually reserved for board meetings.
"He's showing off," Hastings said.
"Because Presley's there?"
"Obviously."
I laughed. "Can you blame him?"
Hastings said nothing, but his jaw tightened.
The camera panned away from the action, sweeping across the stands, then up to the VIP boxes. It lingered on one in particular, zooming in on the figures behind the glass.
And there she was.
Presley.
She stood at the window, her hands pressed against the glass, her eyes locked on the field. The cream jumper and navy coat made her look delicate. But there was nothing delicate about the way she watched Etienne. She was completely focused, completely absorbed.
The commentator's voice cut through my thoughts.
"And it looks like our French flanker has brought a guest today. A mysterious blonde in the VIP box. This is the first time Étienne Moreau has been seen with anyone since his pack had a very public split with socialite Greta five years ago."
My stomach dropped.
Hastings went very still.
"Interesting development," the commentator continued. "Moreau's been keeping a low profile in his personal life, but it seems he's ready to step back into the spotlight with a new lady. Let's see if this mystery woman is a good luck charm."
