4. The First Move in the Game
4
THE FIRST MOVE IN THE GAME
Rafe
In the morning at the gym, I run through my workday agenda. When it comes to business, I’m usually a one-track-minded machine, so while I lift weights, I focus on the pressing things I need to do—not the man I saw once.
Well, technically it was twice. But who’s counting?
I can’t let distractions get the better of me. I have too much to accomplish and too many people who rely on me—like those I work with.
After my workout, I settle in at my desk and review the new fabric samples that have come in. One is a pure but simple turquoise color, and the other has little pictures of a devil on it.
So much for not thinking of the man I danced with last night.
Chuckling, I email the manufacturer and request he run with the Lucifer design—so long as he can make it bigger. I’m about to move onto some phone calls when Theresa knocks at my open office door.
She seems relaxed, but I frown upon seeing her. “I thought I told you not to come in today.”
“Yes, but Dad’s fine now. The fall looked worse than it was, and the staff thought it better to be cautious.”
“Are you sure? Do you need anything?” I ask, still concerned.
“I’m positive, Rafe. He’s bruised but unbroken.” She nears the desk and sinks into the leather chair opposite me with a contrite sigh but a playful smile. “And I feel absolutely awful for pulling you away from that delicious man.”
“Don’t think twice about it,” I say, waving off her unspoken apology.
“But I do.” She leans in and says in a quieter voice, “It was the most relaxed I’ve seen you in a long time.”
I laugh, reclining in my leather chair. “Relaxed? Is that the word you’d use?”
She laughs. “Fine. You weren’t relaxed. More like... energized?”
The way she says the word is flirty and coy, but she’s not flirting with me. It’s more like she’s acknowledging the flirt potential she observed last night.
I admit nothing. “It was more important to me to make sure you were okay. I told him where I’d be tomorrow, and I’ll see him if he chooses to show up.”
It comes out casual and cool, but that’s not how I feel.
I feel hungry . I feel pent-up.
I have no time for relationships for so many reasons. Work is my one true romance, and I won’t ever be sidetracked by love again.
Love only hurts.
But desire? That’s a different story.
Desire winds me up, and I want to race the clock till tomorrow night, then discover him waiting for me at Edge, dancing for me, seducing me with that rock-hard body.
Theresa and I return to work, and after meeting with the PR team, I close the door to my office so I can focus on those new design plans in private.
I give them my undivided attention because that’s what my business deserves. That’s what these people who work with me deserve, because they rely on my company’s success to pay their bills.
Three hours later, Theresa rings through from her own office.
“What’s going on, love?” I ask.
“Sales for the last few hours are through the roof. A huge uptick, even for a Friday morning.”
“Hmm. That’s interesting. We’re not having a promo on the site that would drive it.” But every now and then, a prominent celebrity will post a sexy video while wearing a pair of Rafe Rodmans, and sales will jump. I’m certainly not complaining, I simply like to keep my finger on the pulse of social media. “Is it a TikTok video?”
“Sort of,” she says playfully. “It seems that your Prince Charming is a bit of a showboat.”
I sit up, my interest piqued. “Is that so?”
“Your secret admirer is the third baseman for the San Francisco Dragons.”
I blink in surprise. “I don't follow baseball. I had no idea he was a ballplayer,” I tell Theresa.
“Well, I do. And lots of other people follow the players on social. He posted a picture this morning on Instagram of him wearing one of your designs.”
My fingers tingle. I did say the business would get my undivided attention. But this I have to see. And it’s work related, in a way.
I click over to Instagram and scroll through our mentions to find the shot. There’s no missing it, but this image I need to enjoy alone.
“I have to go,” I tell Theresa, then hang up.
Need a minute to myself with this shot.
I stare at the screen, taking it all in from his cocky smile to his fuck me eyes. The man is stunning, and judging by his caption, he seems to like a game of cat and mouse.
How about a new design, Rafe? Here you go.
Well, Gunnar. Two can play. If he’s going to throw down publicly, I’ll do the same.
Let the dirty games begin.