Back in professional mode, Drew walks across to the floor lamp, tossing my PT’s bra at me. I catch it against my chest.
“You need to return this to her at your next session. If that’s who it belongs to.”
Drew’s halfway out of the living room when I drop the bra and move to catch her by the forearm.
She spins around, and her perfume hits me again as her blue eyes stare up at me.
“I’m really fucking sorry for letting you down today. I promise it won’t happen again.”
I’m not sure if she believes me, but the softness in her expression reveals that she’s at least accepted the apology.
“It’s okay. I just need you to cooperate and stop doing stuff that could endanger your future.”
Drew glances at my front door, and I consider telling her to take the elevator. That way, I can talk with her a few seconds longer.
“You have an awesome career ahead of you, and it’s my job to get the best out of every opportunity that comes your way.”
Her voice is warm and caring, and it wraps around me like the feeling of a hot summer’s day on the beach.
“I also posted on your behalf because you weren’t getting back to me and we needed to acknowledge your arrival with the Rogues before it was too late.”
Heart racing, I slide a hand into my pocket and pull out my phone.
I fucking hate the picture she used, and the caption is absolutely not in my own words.
“Repeet liked my post,” I say.
Drew rises to her tiptoes so she can see the screen. “They’re the ones who pulled out of a collab with you, right?”
I nod once, remembering how pissed I was at the time. “I thought they’d turned their back on me and forgotten about my existence.”
A palm lands on my forearm, and we lock eyes again.
“And that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you, Will. No brand—unless they’re totally idiotic—would burn bridges with you. Repeet is just waiting in the wings to see how you present yourself now that you’ve turned pro. They want to see you demonstrate the kind of brand that will align with theirs. If you can hold yourself together and follow my lead, then the deals will start rolling in soon. I promise.”
8
. . .
Drew
Thanks to an unruly client who is incapable of following basic instructions, I already know my weekly check-in with Colton will be difficult.
One social media post in two weeks. That’s all I’ve managed to achieve with Will, who prioritized his sexual conquest above the meeting he was supposed to have with me.
I thought controlling his erratic behavior would be straightforward and I’d be the last person he would screw around. Evidently, I was mistaken.
Will is a law unto himself, and everyone else is merely a spectator.
Yet, despite all of the above, I’m struggling to be mad at him, and that, in itself, makes me more infuriated. Perhaps I’m giving him more leeway based on our past, or maybe I’m not cut out for this job at all. A client has never tested me—or my patience—to this degree.
I thought Will had more respect for me and my career.
“So …” Colton opens the conversation with an ominous tone. He clearly has about as much faith in me taming the Rogues rookie as I do. “How’re things going with Will? I saw his postabout joining the Rogues.” Colton bites down on his bottom lip. “Or should I say, your post on his behalf?”
Heat invades my entire body. I knew the caption wasn’t reflective of Will’s voice, but he left me with no choice. The regular season is only weeks from starting, and he had to make a statement to the fans.
“Everything is shaping up fine,” I lie, hoping that Colton will buy it.
