My name falling off her lips is the first shot fired.Fuck.Has she ever said my name before? The two syllables have never sounded so appealing, like smoke barrel bourbon with a bite of vanilla. Bold, smooth, and subtly gentle.
“I know you have…personal issues with Hughes, but the team looks to you for guidance. Scouts for the National Team are randomly attending games, and they’re going to hear about this. You don’t want to lose your chance because the asshole who stole your girlfriend got under your skin. You shouldn’t even give him the satisfaction of seeing you angry. I empathize with your situation, and I’m sure it must be hard to see them?—”
“It’s not about Olivia,” I interrupt her.
She blinks. “Are you telling me…they’re called Oliver and Olivia?” I purse my lips to keep from smiling. “Does that feel…incestuous to you somehow?”
A raucous laugh bursts from my mouth, surprising even me, as I bend at the waist trying to catch my breath. When I straighten, I can see a glimmer in her eye, even as her face remains neutral.
“A bit, yeah,” I chuckle.
“If it’s not about them, then why the visceral reaction?”
I sober, shaking my head, refusing to answer. To have her brilliance, and drive and strength and beauty, whittled down to what her body can offer isn’t worth repeating. She doesn’t need to be subjected to that.
“Was it worth it, at least?”
“Yes.” No hesitation.
She reads my eyes—weighs the speed with which I answer her question. “Okay.”
“That’s it?”
“I trust my team. If you say he deserved it, then I’ll handle the fallout around it.” She nods to the chair opposite her desk. “Sit.”
I do as she says, grateful to be off my feet after running, dodging, and jumping around for roughly three quarters of an hour.
Jade rounds the worktop, rummaging through a low drawer before she pulls out a first aid kit and walks back over to me, slightly perching on the lip of her desk.
“Do you expect to get into enough trouble to warrant a medical kit in your desk?”
Jade pops open the sage coloured lid to show every item perfectly lined up and organized, all labels facing the same way.
“I figured it was only a matter of time before a hulking brute came traipsing through my door, needing assistance. Hand.”
I reach out my hand, and she grabs it none too gently. I welcome the bite of pain even as a frizzle of excitement shoots up my arm from the contact.
Her face sets into a mask of concentration, her brow furrowing slightly as she hunches over to clean and disinfect the cuts scattered over my knuckles.
“Will there be a lot?” I ask.
“Hmm?”
“Will there be a lot of fallout for you to deal with because of what I did?” It’s probably the only thing that could make me regret my actions tonight.
“I’m sure there will be,” she shrugs.
“I’m sorry. I’ll talk to the press?—”
“It’s not them I’m worried about.” The sting of the antiseptic has me sucking in a breath. “Don’t be a baby. You can handle a two hundred pound man knocking you to the ground, but disinfected cuts are where you draw the line?”
“If it’s not them, then who?”
“The press will be easy. I can wrap a PR story like nobody’s business after this long in the game. It’s the other shareholders I’m concerned about. They aren’t too pleased about my presence here and are actively waiting for me to fail so they can have a reason to kick me out.”
A fifty pound stone drops in my stomach, settling low in my gut and making me feel ill.
“That’s absurd. You’ve done more for this club in a few measly weeks than they’ve done in years.”
