For the first time in what felt like forever, I actually believed her. I hadn’t felt this confident in my game since before the accident. Even if another Grand Slam win wasn’t on the cards yet, I was finally okay with that. Tennis was giving back to me, loving me the way I’d always loved it. Every performance, every shot felt like something to take pride in again.
“I’ll cool down and shower first,” I said as we reached the main building. The rush of air conditioning was a welcome relief against my overheated skin.
“I’ll walk with you,” Selene said, sticking close as we headed to the cool-down area. “It’ll give us a chance to catch up. I’ve got some offers to discuss with you after the conference.”
I glanced at her, startled. “Offers?”
“Sponsorships,” she clarified, her grin widening. “Not big ones yet, but it’s a start. The momentum is building.”
I exhaled slowly, the buzz of confidence from my match growing even stronger, now tinged with a flood of relief. Everything I’d been working towards, asking Scottie and Dylan for help with my socials, collaborating with Chloe, keeping up with my physio’s rehab plans, was paying off.
“It’s not much money yet, but like I said, this could be the beginning,” Selene continued, her voice brimming with optimism. “Oh, and there’s even a magazine cover for an Italian publication.”
I blinked at her, taken aback. “What? Acover? Why? I’m not doingthatwell.”
She laughed lightly, nudging my arm. “Well, it’s not only about you.” My mind began racing, picturing a group feature, maybe a highlight on Grand Slam winners or up-and-comers. But her next words made my stomach drop. “They want you and Chloe to feature together.”
“Why?” I couldn’t help the disappointment in my voice.
“Because you look good together,” she said, as if it was so obvious. But all I felt was anxiety. “There’s chemistry. People love it.”
I shook my head. “No, that’s not happening. We’re not doing that.”
I turned and headed to the treadmill, needing to cool down from the match, and from the conversation. A magazine cover together? That was too much. I didn’t want our private relationship to be used like that.
“Come on, Inés,” she said, keeping pace. “The fans are eating it up. And I’ve known you long enough to tell when something’s going on. So, is she officially your girlfriend or are you still keeping it casual?”
“We’ve worked together a long time. I know everything you’ve done for me, but I need you to respect my privacy here.”
My agent looked shocked for a moment; this clearly wasn’t the reaction she’d thought the offer would get.
Chloe and I had become more comfortable now that Calvin knew; we’d brought our PR teams on board, allowing them to control the narrative online, and deleting any fan comments that appeared on our socials. Zackary had awkwardly warned me to stay off socials for a while. I understood that people could be a little unhinged, but I’d still been left a little curious by his instruction. One I regretted not following after reading some headlines and comments about Chloe that seemed entirely untrue.
I knew a joint magazine cover would be like trying to put a fire out with petrol.
“I’ll turn them down if you feel that strongly about it.” Selene relented, sounding less than pleased. “Chloe is still the main attraction, sure, but if you keep playing well, people will notice. And there’s nothing wrong with letting her shine rub off on you a little.”
The rage bit at me again. Couldn’t this be left alone? Why did I need more if I was doing better? If it was enough before, when I was single, then why was it different now?
Selene smiled, as she looked almost like the friend I knew, before joking, “But you are dating, right?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think we should play into the story. It makes me feel really uncomfortable.”
She tsked, rolling her eyes. “You were happy enough to do the TikToks at the beach house.”
“Happyisn’t exactly the word I would use there,” I muttered. “But you told me I had to generate buzz and now I have, but you’re still asking for more.”
“I’m looking out for you,” Selene said. When I didn’t respond, her voice softened. “I’m sorry, I am. I thought, since it’s a public relationship...”
I stopped the treadmill and stepped off, facing her directly. “It’s not a public relationship,” I said, biting off each word. “It’s private.”
“You’ve been hitting partners together publicly,” she said.
“Exactly, not girlfriends!” I hissed. I suddenly became all too aware of my raised voice, my eyes scanning around the room for anyone who was close enough to hear.
Selene’s eyes gleamed, and a sly smile spread across her face. “So, it’s true.” Her hands rested on the treadmill frame, her painted nails tapping against the metal.
I stared her down, the tension between us thickening. Selene and I had worked together for a long time. Our meetings would turn into an hour in the wine bar downstairs from her office. And then into late-night karaoke sessions that left Pinot Grigio–tinted memories of us murdering Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep.”
