Chapter 1
Ryland Parks
“Itruly believe you are doing everything in your power to make me drop you as a client. Is that what this is? Because if that’s the case, we can solve this now. I’ll give you what you want, Ryland. You’re no longer represented by Pinnacle PR. I’ll send you a list of suitable replacements by end of day.”
My publicist Vanassa was fed up. I understood why, but finding a new one was out of the question. Vanessa Thomas was the absolute best in the industry. There wasn’t a problem she couldn’t rectify, flip, or erase from the public eye. I knew this personally because my poor decisions caused Vanessa to earn every penny I paid her.
“You’re the best, Van. Why the hell would I want to be dropped from your roster? That’s not happening. Now whether or not I’m trying to piss you off might actually be something to consider.” I flashed a megawatt smile and Van crossed the room, connected the palm of her hand to my forehead, and shoved it back so quickly I didn’t have time to react.
She stepped between my legs and gripped the arms of the chair I was folded in seconds before she lowered her head so wewere eye level. Van sneered. My smile dropped and I pulled my shit together. She was not playing with me.
“For the past six months you have been slinging dick more than you’ve been blocking for your quarterback. You only get paid for one of those tasks, which means you need to figure some shit out. You don’t pay me enough for this.”
The heel of her hand made contact with my forehead and she mushed me for a second time. Van was cool as hell for the most part, and good at her job, but when she flipped into alpha woman business mode, she was a little scary. So I decided to act like I had some sense.
“It wasn’t my…”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. It was your fault. You went to the club. You invited her into your section. You pulled your dick out and let her sit on it and didn’t object when her friend recorded the violation. In fact, you turned and smiled at the camera, which means you were well aware that you were being recorded.”
Vanessa was now positioned across the room, shooting an evil glare my way while she assumed the position—fists balled and pressed into her hips, head slightly tilted, and eyes narrowed in that scary way which usually made me get my shit together when it came to dealing with Van.
Since I was more than positive I was skating on thin ice, I decided to bypass explaining that the woman I allowed to sit on my dick in a crowded club was the one who’d pulled my dick out, not me. I did not, however, object.
“Alright, you got that. What do I need to do to fix this?” I tried my best not to smile but Van was so pissed that it was cute. Hell, sexy actually, but she was one line I would never cross. There wasn’t a publicist in the world skilled enough to handle the chaos in my life—most of which was due in part to my dick—so I refused to allow said dick to cost me the one person who could ensure I kept my endorsements.
“Get out of my office, Ryland. I’ll send a list of suitable replacements before close of business day.”
I grinned, brushed a hand over my head, and unfolded my body from the chair I was uncomfortably positioned in. For Van to have a roster full of athletes, she damn sure didn’t care about making her office accommodating for any of us.
“I’ll give you time to calm down so you can tell me how this is going to work,” I said coolly.
She barked a laugh, cocky and laced with frustration. “You’re not hearing me.” We locked eyes and she spoke slowly. “I’m done. You’re going to need another publicist and you’re going to need one fast. If I had to guess, this latest fuck up is going to cost you.”
She turned on her heels and headed back to her desk, taking a seat behind it and powering up her laptop. I frowned and glared at Van who seconds ago was ready to knock my head off but was now seemingly calm.
Yeah, I’d really fucked up…
“Van…”
“Yes,” she answered while typing on her laptop, not bothering to give me her eyes.
“I know you’re not serious.” I scowled and she finally looked up.
“I’m very serious. I told you last time would be the last time,” she stated with no real emotion.
“I get that I messed up but that’s what I pay you for…to handle things when I do.”
“The money isn’t worth it. There’s an entire roster of Sharks I can replace you with. Players who listen and are willing to trust my advice about their careers.”
“I trust your advice.”
She arched a brow and I sighed. “I do. I’m just…”
“A gotdamn manchild.”
Again, I would have laughed because she was exasperated and also not lying. My behavior over the past year had very much been childish, but I didn’t give a damn because I had a team in place to fix my fuckups. I needed to do better. Was very much aware that I was risking my career but I worked hard as a Shark, doing my part to win championships. The privilege allowed me to gain the access I had at my fingertips. I deserved to play a little. The problem was, I had bypassed playing alittleyears ago and ventured into a space of balling the fuck out on a regular in a grand way.
“I’m going to get my shit together.”
