Content Independence: Captain Moreal will not monitor, limit, or otherwise interfere with my social media output unless legal liability arises.
She wants full freedom on social media. Fine, as long as she doesn’t post anything reckless. I don’t havetime to hunt down every motherfucker who likes the post.
I reserve the right to reevaluate terms at any point if the captain becomes ‘difficult’. Captain Moreal will conduct himself with basic civility and be nice to me.
“Difficult.” She quoted it.
“Basic civility? Be nice to me?” Jace makes a face. “What the hell have you done to the girl, man?” He laughs.
She put “be nice to me” in an official document.
Melodramatic, ridiculous, and spoiled.
Yet I still laugh under my breath. “Nothing she didn’t deserve,” I mutter.
Jace barks a laugh. “And now she wants your balls in a jar.”
No woman has ever put reins on me.
Jessica Brooks just walked into the arena, tossed them at my feet, and expected me to kneel and put them on.
I would laugh if I had any air in my lungs. But it’s gone as soon as my eyes skim the last condition.
Residency Requirement: For logistical, scheduling, and safety purposes, I will reside at Captain Moreal’s primary residence for the duration of the agreement.
My brows dip together, and my free hand curls around the bench.
I reread it.
She wants to move into my house. During playoffs.
The audacity is diabolical.
I stare at the words again, slower.
Reside. Duration of the agreement. Move in.
“Oh, she’s bold,” Jace says.
“She’s delusional,” I say flatly.
Bold isn’t the right word. She’s shameless.
Does she want access to me? Some kind of proximity?
Heat crawls down my spine, and I can’t tell if it’s arousal or anger. Both. The two blend together when it comes to her.
She thinks she has leverage, and somehow, fucking unbelievably, she kind of does.
She came to play. And she plays mean.
Good.
I close the email and pocket my phone before anyone can get curious.
What kind of childhood trauma produces a woman bold enough to demand moving into a stranger’s house?
Beside me, the door cracks open, like someone’s scared to enter. Frankie, one of the equipment guys, pokes his head in.
