I’d give just about anything for a nap.
Instead, I’m perched on the couch in my office, tablet in hand, forcing my eyes to track the sponsorship notes Evelyn is reviewing. She speaks with her usual calm precision, each word clipped and deliberate, but concentration continues to slip through my fingers like fine grains of sand. I nod, pretending I’m absorbing each detail when I can barely keep my eyes open.
Her voice trails off mid-sentence when a knock sounds against the doorframe. Startled, I jolt upright as Oliver strolls in, a white paper bag dangling from one hand.
His hair is still damp from practice as a few dark-blond strands cling to his forehead. Stubble shadows his jaw, and the glint of amusement in his eyes knocks me off balance. He looks far too good for my already shaky composure.
He doesn’t bother asking for permission to enter.
Then again, when does this man ever ask for approval?
He crosses the room, unbothered by Evelyn’s presence, and sets the bag on the table in front of me.
“Lunch,” he says simply.
Heat crawls up my neck as I glance at my boss, who’s watching us with raised brows. “Thanks, but I don’t?—”
“Yes, you do.” His voice cuts clean through mine, leaving no room for argument. Those blue eyes pin me in place, daring me to contradict him. “You need to eat.”
Evelyn’s gaze drifts between us, her lips curving as amusement flickers in her expression. “Well, isn’t this unusual. The two of you getting along for a change.”
Her tone is light and teasing, but the observation sets my nerves on edge.
If she only knew.
Panic prickles along my spine. If Evelyn even suspects what’s really going on between Oliver and me—or worse, Hugh figures it out—I’m finished. The no-fraternization clause in my contract isn’t a suggestion.
It’s ironclad.
Last year, a trainer was fired the moment her relationship with a player came to light.
There wasn’t a warning.
Or a discussion.
She was simply escorted out of the building.
My mouth turns bone dry at the thought.
We’re talking about my career here.
The stability I’ve clawed my way toward.
One mistake—one lapse in judgment—and it could all vanish.
All right… so maybe it wasn’t just one lapse.
More like dozens.
Before I can string together a coherent response, Oliver drops onto the couch beside me, his shoulder brushing mine as a smirk pulls at his mouth.
“We’ve entered a new era,” he says easily. “One where Rina doesn’t try to strangle me on the daily.”
I really should tell him to leave. To take his arrogance along with his perfect jawline and get out of my office. But then the scent of warm bread, tangy vinaigrette, and fresh herbs hits me, and my stomach gives an embarrassingly loud growl.
My glare has zero bite as I drag the bag closer and peek inside to find my favorite salad, crisp and colorful, paired with breadsticks still warm in their foil. My heart stumbles when I realize he remembered an offhand comment I made weeks ago.
Digging deeper, I find a glass bottle of chocolate milk tucked neatly beside the salad.
