2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Cameron
“This is a disaster .” Frankie folds her arms across her chest, shooting icy daggers at me.
I mimic her stance, crossing my arms as well. “It was unavoidable.”
My eyes flicker to the video that’s been playing on repeat for the past several minutes before looking back at my public relations manager.
Frankie’s eyes widen. “You punched a fan!” She throws her hands in the air, the gray streaks in her hair looking a little more pronounced this morning.
“You should’ve heard what they said about Blaze,” I rebuttal. “If I had to go back, I’d still knock the guy’s lights out—maybe a little harder than I did the first time.”
My lawyer, Tucker, groans but doesn’t say anything.
“What?” I look over at him, exasperated.
Everyone in the room is now staring at me—all wearing the same shade of disappointment.
“How do you people not understand? My teammates are my family ,” I say before gesturing toward the video loop. “And this guy—this guy had it coming when he said Blaze was worthless. He’s obviously not even a real fan—if he was, he wouldn’t have said that.”
“People can say whatever they want,” Frankie snaps, her eyes flaming with enough frustration to burn a hole right in the center of my head. “You’re a public figure, Cameron. Regardless of what anyone says, you’re expected to respond with grace and silence. ”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“A punch says a lot more than words ever could,” Tucker finally speaks up, his voice flat. “And we’re lucky Richard Normans isn’t pressing charges over it. We could’ve been in a lot hotter water if he had.”
“Well, lucky me, then,” I grunt, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “Besides, I’m sure the guy enjoyed his fifteen minutes of fame.”
“We’ve written a statement for you.” Frankie slides a piece of paper across the table toward me. “We plan to release it to the media, but it would mean a lot more if it came directly from you. ”
I frown. “Yeah, well, I don’t do that kind of stuff.”
“Yeah, well, your stupid decision has changed your options.”
“No way.” I shake my head, already knowing their angle. This isn’t the first time they’ve tried to convince me to have a public image .
“I hate social media,” I continue. “It’s fine that the other guys have their profiles or whatever, but I like to keep my life private. If fans want to know about me, they can watch the games.”
“That’s not going to cut it.” Tucker grimaces. “I agree with Frankie on this one. It’s better for you to get it out personally through your own social media channels.”
“Why don’t you guys just do a press conference or something?” I ask.
Frankie huffs. “No.”
“Why?”
“Because fans need to think you sat down and wrote this statement.”
“But I didn’t.”
“Well, technically, you’ll be the one that’s typing it into a post.”
“Deceitful,” I shoot back at the PR rep. “I don’t like that.”
Her face reddens and she leans across the conference table, narrowing her eyes at me. “I don’t like the fact that you punched a fan. You knocked him out cold, Cam. You could have done some serious damage. You’re lucky he didn’t press charges. If you want to stay on the Atlanta Glaciers, you will follow our plan. The owner is pissed at you. Make it right.”
My jaw tenses. I fight the urge to argue. Hockey is my life. My team is my family . If that means I have to create a stupid Instagram post and apologize, then... “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Great.” Frankie sighs with relief. “I’ll bring her in.”
“What? Who?”
My eyes follow Frankie as she heads for the door. She opens it a few inches and waves before saying something to whoever’s on the other side.
I turn to Tucker. “What’s she talking about?”
He shrugs. “No idea. I came here with you, remember?”
“Right,” I mutter, tapping my Converse shoe under the table.
I glance at the clock. It’s a quarter past two. I should be hanging out with my friends and teammates or catching up with my dad.
I’d rather be doing just about anything other than sitting here in this meeting .
“Cameron.” Frankie turns back to me, a nice, pleasant smile suddenly plastered across her face. “This is Nila Christianson.”
Frankie steps to the side, revealing a bombshell redheaded woman.
My jaw falls to the floor and my mind starts spinning.
Is this going to be some kind of fake relationship for a PR stunt?
Or heck, maybe even a real one?
I can’t pull my eyes away from the woman. She looks to be about my age—twenty-four, maybe twenty-five. She’s got green eyes and creamy skin speckled with freckles. She’s dressed to kill in a tight white blouse and black pants with red heels the same shade as her painted lips. And man, those curves.
She raises a ginger eyebrow at me. “Nice to meet you. I’m Nila, your new social media specialist.”
I frown.
Not what I was hoping for.
“Great.” My voice comes out flat.
“I’m optimistic that we can clean up your image using social media. You have the reputation of being a hothead,” she continues, opening a binder and sliding it across to me—like I actually care. “But if we give the public a glimpse into your private life, we can change that.”
“Hmm,” I say mindlessly, still immersed in her jade irises, admiring the way they’re glaring at me.
She clears her throat, tapping on the open page. “ This is the plan we’re going to follow.”
“Cool,” I say tersely, shrugging my shoulders. “Whatever you wanna do.”
Nila makes a face and then leans away to look at Frankie.
She sighs. “It’s just how he acts.”
“Right.” Nila glances back at me. “I’ll just have to work with it. ”
Now my eyes narrow. Work with it? Does she think there’s something wrong with me?
“I’m a cool guy,” I reason, leaning back in my chair. “It’s a privilege to work with me.”
Nila looks me straight in the face. And then laughs.
“What’s so funny?” I gape, my eyes jumping to Tucker and Frankie, who also seem to find the comment I made amusing. “I was being serious. If I wanted to joke, I’d have asked Nila if she was born near a certain river in the Amazon.”
She rolls her eyes. “The Nile River is in Africa. ”
“Right. The Amazon.”
“The Amazon is in South America. Geography must not be your strong suit,” she counters, shaking her head.
“Nope,” I say with a shrug. “It sure isn’t, and neither is social media, so you definitely have your work cut out for you.”
“Clearly.” She makes another face at me. “We definitely have a lot to work on.”
“ We? Aren’t you just going to follow your cute little plan?” I gesture to the binder in front of me, glistening with color-coded highlights and a lot of words I have no interest in reading.
“Oh, she’s going with you— everywhere. ” Frankie gives me a bright sucks-for-you smile. “Nila here is one of the most sought-after social media strategists on the East Coast—with over a million followers on her own platforms to prove it. She has an incredible plan. But she’s gonna need material—and we intend to do some livestreams and videos. ”
Oh boy.
“So, I have a shadow?”
“ Ooh .” Nila beams. “I like the sound of that. I can be your shadow.”
“So glad I could appease you,” I say dryly. “Can we go now? I don’t want to sit here any longer than I have to.”
Tucker grunts. “We need to finish the paperwork. She has to sign an NDA. There are too many risks with this arrangement. I don’t like it.”
“Would you rather your client lose his place on the team?” Frankie snaps, popping her hip out. “She’s already signed the necessary NDAs. She’s more than ready to go—she’s worked with plenty of high-profile people.”
“Which I can’t name because of those NDAs.” Nila winks at Tucker, causing a pang of unwanted jealousy to thump me right in the chest.
Am I seriously feeling jealous over a girl I’ve only known for a few minutes?
Tucker must not feel the same way I do about the cute little quirk, though. He only nods. “Okay, well, send them over to my office so I have them on file.”
“Already emailed you a copy.” Frankie beams. “It’s like I know how to do my job. Wild.”
I swear, all successful women are sassy.
“Well then.” I push back from the table. “I’ll see myself out. I have other things to do today, and this wasn’t on the list. ”
“Wow, busy man,” Nila snickers, gathering up her things in her arms. “Where you headed to next?”
“I’ve got a thing with my friends—and it’s a closed event,” I add, daring her to argue with me.
But she doesn’t miss a beat. “Cool, what’s the dress code? Snappy casual? Or homeless?” She motions to my faded jeans and black Henley, paired with my old black and white Converse.
I roll my eyes and head for the door.
“She’s going with you, Cam,” Frankie calls after me.
I tense my jaw, opting for silence rather than protesting. I thought when I got this job—playing hockey for a whole lot of money—I’d be able to do what I wanted. Turns out, people weigh in now more than ever with all their stipulations, opinions, and concerns about my private life.
It’s beyond annoying.
“Can you slow down?” A sweet, sultry voice pants from behind me. “My legs are like half the length of yours.”
I glance back at Nila, scurrying behind me in her red heels. “You’re gonna have to learn how to keep up. I’m not slowing down for you. Besides, you’re my shadow, right? You should be able to handle it.”
She glares at me. “Just let me change into my Nikes.”
I chuckle, unable to hide my amusement .
Everything about this woman puts me off, but somehow, she’s too beautiful to let it ruin my day. I mean, who doesn’t want a beautiful woman hot on their heels? (Pun intended.)
Especially a fiery redhead.
I bite down on my lip as I shove the office doors open, taking in the cool March air and heading for my Lamborghini parked in one of the front spots.
I have no interest in dating anyone right now—but I am definitely attracted to the new thorn in my side. I guess I’ll just have to deal with that...
And not let it go too far.
“Okay, seriously!” Nila screeches from behind me. “ Please slow down, Cameron. I can’t keep up at this pace.”
Ugh.
I slow to a snail’s pace, letting the wild-eyed woman catch up to me. Her heels click across the asphalt like a woman on a mission. “Maybe if you didn’t wear dagger heels, you’d be able to keep up.”
She finally reaches me, shooting me another glare. “They’re Louboutin, not dagger heels—and they happen to be my favorite pair.”
“Then you should be able to run a mile or two in them. I think I know where a good running track is. I can drop you off there to practice while I go about my day. Then I can pick you up later ... maybe. ”
“Ha ha. ” She blows out a sharp breath as I open the passenger side door for her. She slides in and then looks up at me, her eyes softening. “Can we please just stop by my hotel so I can grab some different shoes?”
I raise a brow. “Oh, so you were serious about the Nikes.” I smirk.
Her thick lips purse in a flat line. “I was dead serious. You’re not going to be able to outrun me, Cameron. I’m going to make this work, whether you like it or not.”
“They must be paying you well,” I snort, shutting the door and trotting around to the driver’s side. I climb in and try to ignore how pretty Nila looks sitting against the black leather of my sports car.
She looks lethal.
“What?” Nila snaps at me.
“Nothing,” I say quickly, starting the car and listening to the engine roar to life. There’s nothing quite like it, but as I look over, Nila is already gripping the ceiling handle, her posture screaming rigid and tense. “What’re you doing?”
She eyes me. “Preparing to die.”
I break into a grin, shifting the car into first.
Maybe this will be fun.