7. Monroe #2
“I don’t stand in the background,” I said through clenched teeth. “I coach, like you hired me to do.”
Why did that part keep getting overlooked?
“Oh, no,I didn’t mean— I just meant—”
“I think we can all agree that Monroe is one of the best coaches the league has,” Graciella said, wrapping her dainty fingers around my wrist.
Their warmth was like a brand—same as her words—searing into my skin. Hearing her call me the best had my shoulders straightening. Which was ridiculous. She didn’t mean it. This was all her putting on a show.
Like she wanted me to do for the League. Play puppet for them again.
“What I meant was,” Tommy stammered, “it’s important Josh has a strong connection with the people.” He shot me an apologetic look. “We’re a newer organization, and while winning the Cup garnered us a whole slew of new fans and attention, it also brings…scrutiny.”
Of me.
“And with so many public-facing events coming up…”
The implications hung between us, threatening to snuff out all the oxygen in the room. Graciella scooched forward again, leaning her elbows on the glossy wood.
“That’s exactly why we need to make them feel connected.
Invested in what’s happening with Monroe.
We’re going to give them a story, something people can latch onto, and make them root for him.
” She looked over her shoulder at me, but I barely registered it, too busy trying to understand where she was going with this.
“Without exposing the parts of his life he wants kept private.”
I fought to keep my mouth from dropping, not liking the sounds of this plan.
Tommy clapped, smiling so wide his face had to hurt. “Yes, this is what we need. And what is this story exactly?” he asked, ready to trust whatever she was about to say.
She didn’t even blink. “A relationship.”
Her words looped around my neck, applying pressure. My chest heaved, forcing air into my lungs and I drilled my eyes into the carpet, hoping Tommy couldn’t see my whitened knuckles hanging by the sides of the chair.
The hell was she talking about a relationship?
“Oh.” He blinked, owl-like. “Oh, that’s—uh—that’s interesting. I didn’t know you were seeing anyone, Monroe.”
“This is news to me” was on the tip of my tongue, but Graciella’s hand landed back on my wrist. This time it was a death grip. She caught my gaze, eyes begging for the trust I’d promised her earlier. Half a beat passed before I gave her the slightest nod of my chin.
Her shoulders relaxed, smile back in place as she answered. “He’s not. Not yet.”
Tommy’s eyes widened even more, mouth hanging open.
I tipped my head back, dragging a hand down my face.
And there goes my career.
But if Graciella was worried, she didn’t show it. She pushed on as if Tommy’s response hadn’t dripped with doubt.
“We’re going to bring someone in. A strategic partnership, if you will.
” She flashed a confident smile, to both of us, like she sensed my spiral.
“They happen all the time in entertainment when someone needs a reputation boost. We’ll pair Monroe up with someone well-behaved and charming, and run this as a highly organized and managed relationship.
Let the fans feel like they’re getting a peek at the man behind the Stars’ bench.
It'll humanize him, show that he's lovable instead of just, you know," —she waved her hand vaguely in my direction— "a grump.
Then, before the season starts, when the charade has done its job, they'll part amicably.
"I glanced her way, surprise flinting through me at how thought-out this thing was. Because seconds ago, I was sure I’d just trusted another person who was looking to screw me over in my career.
Tommy blinked again. “Oh, that’s actually quite smart,” he said, mimicking my thoughts. “When do you plan on rolling this out?”
“Starting at the City Cup dinner next week.”
My stomach dropped. “How do you know about that dinner? And why am I the one going? Send Thatcher. Or you go, Tommy.”
She gave me a sidelong look, jaw ticking.
“Well, Joshua,”—the jab dripped with irritation—“I asked Tommy for the summer schedule of events so I’d know what appearances you’ll need to make.
And you are the one going to this dinner because we need as many opportunities as possible to get you in the public eye. ”
The tops of my ears heated. That was very…professional of her.
“So…how are you finding someone for this unique position?” Tommy asked, gaze flicking to me.
His guess was as good as mine, but before I could tell him as much, she cut in.
“I reached out to my contacts for clients needing to boost the visibility of their projects.” She pushed the top manila folder across the desk and slid the second to me.
“I have some interviews set up so we can find a good fit, and legal is already working on the details of the NDA.”
Shock flitted through me. She’d already done so much.
“Sorry for not waiting for your approval first,” she said, tone not matching her words. “But we’re on a tight timeline with this whole thing. I need to find candidates and hold interviews by Friday.”
My pulse pounded. That was only four days from now.
She kept talking, oblivious to my panic. “What I need from you, Tommy, is the green light, so Monroe can move forward and pick someone.”
I glanced at Graciella. Her head held high, showing off the delicate line of her neck.
Afternoon sun shone off her hair, highlighting the blue-black color that looked so good against her flawless golden skin.
She turned toward me, thick lashes fluttering a few times as she tilted her head, dark brows pulling together in a silent question.
I swallowed, snapping my head forward.
Not picking her.
I wasn’t sure if that was a statement or a reminder.