Rule 9: Mandatory Counseling. Weekly sessions with the team psychologist. Progress will be monitored.
“No. Uh-uh.” I shake my head. She’s gone way too far. “Fucking therapy? I don’t need to lay on some shrink’s couch and spill my guts.”
Therapy? Fuck that.I’ve spent eighteen years avoiding shrinks, and I’m sure as hell not explaining why to the Ice Queen.
“First of all, Leighton has a PhD in Sports Psychology. She won’t appreciate being called a shrink. Second, you almost landed a man in the hospital, Steele. If that doesn’t scream anger issues, I don’t know what does.” Tori purses her lips and stares up at me, my mouth getting drier with each passing second.
This isn’t good. I’m losing the first battle, the earth quaking beneath my feet and leaving me unsteady.
I don’t like it one little bit.
“How long is this fucking list?” I scowl at her, getting more pissed off by the second.
“You’re almost done.”
Rule 10: Location sharing. Phone GPS to remain on at all times. Must notify Tori of any location changes outside of daily routine.
“You’re going to track me 24-7?” I squint at her in disbelief, my gut swirling.
“Absolutely. I told you – I’m your new warden.” She flashes me a wicked grin, all white teeth and ruthlessness. Like she’s thoroughly enjoying this.
Rule 11: Weekly face-to-face debrief meetings. Will discuss upcoming schedule and any changes to rules.
“Changes to the rules?” I crush my eyebrows together, tension radiating through my temple.
“See the asterisk.”
* Any violations of these rules can and will result in penalties. Three violations = Max Prince involvement. Five violations = potential contract review.
“Contract review?” My voice comes out strangled.
“Yes. If you can’t abide by these simple rules, you’re not a team player. And the Coastal Crushers only want team players. Surely you can understand that, right?”
I clear my throat, aggravation humming through me. This entire scenario is unreal. Back at the office, I thought Tori was fucking around, only trying to assuage her daddy. That we’d walk out of the arena, she’d hand me the keys to the condo and tell me to get lost. Maybe shoot me a ‘Stay out of trouble’ to be on the safe side.
But she’s not fucking kidding. About any of it.
This dark-haired siren’s really and truly going to rule my life. At least until her dad decides otherwise.
I’m benched and circling the drain toward a buyout.
Blood roars in my ears, and I lick my lips, swallowinghard over the lump in my throat. Seemingly accepting my fate.
For now.
“Thanks for stopping by.” I bite out the words, not the least bit thankful.
“That’s it? No questions? Concerns?” Her voice tips up, her delicate fingers smoothing the non-existent wrinkles from her slacks.
Oh, I have concerns. Plenty of them.
But I’ll have to chisel her down over time.
“Nope.” I shove a hand in the pocket of my sweats and act way more nonchalant than I feel.
“Good. Glad we got this hammered out. I’ll be on the lookout for your morning check-in tomorrow.”
With that, she spins on the heel of her stiletto and sashays away, pausing at her door and wiggling her fingers at me in a condescending wave.
