Chapter 7 Sydney
SEVEN
SYDNEY
“Sorry I’m late!” I rush out, bursting into my dad’s office.
“I overslept, then there was an accident on the off-ramp. I was stuck at the exit forever.” It’s not a total lie.
After my night at the club, I hit the snooze button several times, and there was a fender-bender on my way here.
It didn’t exactly block traffic, but I did drive by extra slow, just to be safe—and because I’m really fucking nosy.
“But you still had time to stop at Brew-La-La. Weird,” my sister replies, biting the inside of her cheek to stifle a smile.
I look down at the coffee in my hand, rolling my eyes as she chuckles quietly.
“Don’t worry. Dad wanted Steele to meet with the coaching staff before he brought him up here.
He signed his contract this morning. One year, and he has to stay out of trouble, or he’ll be right back where he started—a free agent who nobody thinks is worth the risk.
We got him for a steal, too. Four million dollars for a player of his caliber is unheard of. ”
I hum noncommittally as I make my way across the room, her words settling in.
I have to admit that I feel kind of bad for the guy.
I didn’t have time to do any research on him—not that I’d understand it anyway, since football lingo makes zero sense to me—but from what I gathered the other day, there’s no proof he’s done anything wrong.
He has a bad attitude, which is why he doesn’t have the best reputation, but maybe he’s just misunderstood.
I can totally relate, unfortunately.
As the younger, sassier daughter of Paul Grant, I’m rarely taken seriously.
I’ll be the first one to say I’ve brought some of it on myself, because I refuse to fit into the perfect football-shaped box society says I should.
In fact, that’s probably why I’ve never tried to learn more about the game.
As soon as I’m told to do something, I make it my mission to do the exact opposite.
That was all good and well when I was a kid.
I got a lot of attention from being rebellious.
But I’m all grown up now, and helping turn this guy into a model Clevelander is the perfect way to show the world just that.
I plop down in the oversized accent chair, curling up into a ball.
I’m exhausted, thoroughly wrung out from my night with Mr. Jacob’s Ladder.
The man was incredible, blowing every expectation I had when I walked into the club right out of the water.
The sex was mind-altering, the conversation was easy, and oddly, being in his arms—even though I was trying to provide adequate aftercare—felt… nice.
What the hell is happening to me?
I never take what goes on in those rooms with me when I leave.
When the scene is over and our time is up, I say my goodbyes and move on.
Sometimes I’ll request the guy again if it goes well, but I generally don’t think about them when I’m living my normal life.
Yet for some reason, I haven’t been able to get him out of my head.
He was the first thing on my mind when I woke up, and even though I’ve been trying to focus on the meeting I’m about to have with my dad and Steele, my imagination has somehow wandered right back to the way he worshiped me like he’d been doing it his whole life.
The fact that I can’t seem to keep the memories from taking over should have alarm bells blaring in my head, but I honestly don’t care.
He said he didn’t have a choice but to take the job here in Cleveland, so I’m hoping he decides to frequent the club on a regular basis.
I can’t imagine going the rest of my life without feeling the rush he gave me at least one more time.
Now that I’ve slept on it, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I want to see him again… as soon as possible, to be honest.
I’m broken from my thoughts when the elevator down the hall dings, the sound of my father’s voice filtering through the air.
I rise from the chair, and Livvy mirrors me, shoving her tablet into her tote bag as she gets her Coach Grant face in check.
She’s all fun and games when football isn’t involved, but in this building, when there’s a Renegade in her presence, she’s a bulldog.
Even her own boyfriend is afraid of her sometimes, and rightfully so.
She knows more than the whole team combined, and she doesn’t take shit from anyone.
“Hey, girls,” my dad says as he steps into the room.
His bright purple shirt is almost neon—a fashion choice we’ll talk about later when I make him throw it straight into the trash, which is why it takes me a few seconds to realize who enters the office behind him.
But once I do, I’m frozen right where I stand.
Because the new player I’ve agreed to help isn’t new at all…
at least not to me, since he was inside me less than twelve hours ago.
“Steele, you’ve already met Olivia”— my father gestures toward Liv before turning to me— “and this is my other daughter, Sydney. As we discussed earlier, she’ll be in charge of your community outreach and posting to your social media accounts.”
At first, my heart gallops in my chest, an uncharacteristic giddiness flowing through my veins.
The guy I’ve been thinking about non-stop all morning is here in front of me, and I actually get to work with him.
But his words from last night begin to play like a recording in my head, and suddenly, I’m no longer excited. Instead, I’m fuming mad.
The company I’ve been transferred to is a joke.
They’ll be a laughingstock by next year, mark my words.
My new co-workers are washed up and have no idea what it takes to succeed.
The company he was talking about wasn’t a company at all. It’s my family’s fucking football team.
My blood boils, my eyes narrowing into slits as he stares back at me like a deer in headlights.
By the looks of it, he’s just as shocked as I am, his throat working with a rough swallow while he stands completely unmoving.
I’m ready to launch myself at him, wrapping my hands around his neck and showing him exactly what happens to people who talk shit about my family and friends.
Nobody’s ever gotten away with it, and he sure as hell won’t be the first, even if he does have a huge dick and knows how to make me come a hundred different ways.
I’ll make him regret ever coming to this city.
“Syd?” my dad says, his familiar voice bringing me back to the here and now. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, sweetheart.”
I whip my head his way, pasting on my signature nonchalant expression so he and Liv don’t pick up on the fact that, internally, I’m burning with rage.
I can’t tell them how I know Steele without revealing my secret life—no fucking thanks to that—so I have to act like this is the first time we’ve met.
“Just tired,” I reply, sliding my gaze toward the snake in question. He still hasn’t moved or blinked, his chest rising and falling rapidly like he’s struggling to find his breath.
Good. I hope he’s terrified.
“Hello, Steele,” I greet, my back teeth grinding as I extend a hand between us.
“It’s nice to meet you.” I have half a mind to lean in and throat-punch him for being such a liar and an asshole, but again, I have to wait.
The last thing I need is for him to retaliate and tell my family that I frequent the local kink club in my free time.
My eyes bounce back and forth between my hand and his face, widening as if to say shake it, idiot.
He doesn’t react at first. The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and I think for sure that we’re about to be busted.
There’s no way the dumbstruck look on his face isn’t raising red flags, especially to my sister, who is usually very observant.
But if she notices, she doesn’t say a word, watching as Steele finally snaps back to reality and darts his hand out, wrapping his fingers around mine.
“Pleasure’s all mine,” he rasps, and I hate my traitorous body for its reaction to his words.
Heat prickles at my skin, beginning where we’re joined and blazing a trail up my arm, chest, and neck.
Memories of the aforementioned pleasure pull me under like a rip current, and I have to fight against them just to remain in the moment.
I need to get this shit over with so I can hide somewhere and regroup, then rethink my plan to help with this douchebag.
I could probably act like nothing happened if we’d just met at the club and fucked, but he disrespected my family—my team—and I sure as hell can’t overlook that.
I pull my hand from his, wiping it on my pants as though it’ll erase the tingles that still dance across my skin.
He locks onto the motion, something I can’t distinguish passing over his expression as he lowers his gaze to the floor.
He almost looks hurt or offended, but fuck that.
The man is heartless, obviously, or he wouldn’t have spoken so poorly about the only team in the league that’s willing to give him a shot.
“Alright then,” my father says, looking back and forth between Steele and me.
“I trust the two of you can take it from here. Sydney”—he focuses on me—“keep HR informed of any appearances you schedule, so they can prepare a press release. Other than that, you’re free to do whatever you think will show the fans what an asset Mr. Harlow is to the city and the Renegades organization.
” He turns to Steele. “I trust that you’ll treat my daughter with the utmost respect and do as she says.
If you step out of line, there will be consequences. Do we understand each other?”