4. Gwen
four
Gwen
Present
My armpits feel like the burning depths of hell as I go over the slides on my laptop again. I have no problem speaking in front of large groups, but today is different.
Today, my boss, Maryse, is going to announce the new season’s player and team marketing strategies. Starting with the spring training plan. Since Maryse is pregnant this year, she is sending me to Arizona in her place, and I am nervous as hell.
This is a great opportunity for me to prove to my father that I have what it takes.
“Good morning.” Maryse walks into the conference room with the file box of the printed decks for all the players as I finish plugging in the laptop and mirror it to the presentation screen up front.
“I would have come back for these.” I rush to her side to grab the box, but she waves me off and places the box on the table.
“Oh hush. I can carry this measly little box.” Maryse is two months pregnant, and Sylvie has put me under strict orders to keep her from overexerting herself.
“Fine. But promise, no heavy lifting?” I glare at her.
It was a hard-won pregnancy for my boss, and I have no problem pampering her.
“You sound like my husband,” she grumbles.
She takes a seat at the front of the room and gives me a rundown of what she’s going to cover during the meeting as I grab the file folders and place one on each chair.
Maryse is amazing to work with. As soon as I started here, she had me shadowing her, learning all the ins and outs of the marketing department and getting the whole PR team on my side.
According to Maryse, “We women have to stick together.”
She’s the ultimate girl’s girl and knows I can do this job with my hands behind my back. She has so much faith in me and has already implemented the new team branding campaign I thought up over the break.
The strategy my father approved without knowing it came from me.
After the agenda and marketing packets are laid out, I return to Maryse at the podium.
This is not your typical executive conference room.
This space is arranged like a movie theater and acts as the team meeting room and media press conference space as well.
The stadium-style seating means everyone’s eyes will be set on me.
My pesky little heart beats double-time as butterflies take flight in my stomach.
Today is the day. I’m no longer able to hide from Lance-mother-freaking-Taylor.
A white-hot shiver races down my spine just thinking of his name and, of course, my traitorous brain flashes images of that night in my head.
The last time I saw him. Felt him. Tasted him.
Every moment of that night is engraved on my soul.
His piercing blue eyes and his gravelly voice visit me in my dreams every night.
I will never forget what happened that night.
From now until the end of my days, I will remember every word and every kiss we shared.
Every touch of his hands on my body. Every inch of him inside me.
What I experienced with Lance was life changing. Nothing like what I had experienced with other lovers before.
There was this indescribable energy between us. It felt like red-hot threads of shimmering gold that were determined to bind us together.
I could have sworn Lance felt it too.
But the more I go over that night, the more I think maybe it was all in my head.
Or maybe he’s just that good with his dick that he dickmatized me into thinking there was something special between us than just the best sex of my life.
I still picture his thick cock as it slowly …
Nope. Do not think about his dick!
I blow out a raspberry in disgust at myself. At my thoughts. At him.
How dare he turn me into this overthinking mess? The bastard didn’t even have the decency to say thanks for all the sex and the blow job of all blow jobs in the shower.
I’m more than heated now, after my mental little segue. Anger and anxiety mix, ratcheting up as the clock ticks down.
Weeks ago, I promised myself that if he didn’t reach out by New Year’s Eve, I’d let the idea of him go. I’d toss my feelings for him into the ocean like the old lady from Titanic did with the necklace.
Only now, it’s the middle of January and I still haven’t been able to toss the metaphorical necklace overboard.
Every day, I seek Lance out, only to run in the opposite direction or hide in storage closets when I see him. I tell myself not to look for him. But something keeps pulling me toward him.
Stop thinking about him and concentrate, damn it!
I fiddle with my skirt, brush my pale-pink silk blouse down—making sure I don’t have sweat stains—and check my watch for the time.
The guys on the team should show up any minute now.
Without looking away from her phone, Maryse notices me fidgeting. “Relax. You’re going to do great.”
“Thank you.”
Like an avenger coming to rescue me, Cam is the first to arrive. “Hey, Little G.”
The wide grin on his face is infectious, and I easily smile back. “Hey, Cam.”
“Good luck on your first meeting. If anyone messes with you, let me know and I’ll kick their ass.”
I shake my head at him with a chuckle. “That won’t be necessary. I can kick their asses myself.”
“That’s what I like to hear. You’re what Talia calls a boss babe. You got this.” Cam holds out his fist for me to bump.
This six-foot-five beast of a man is a gentle giant. He’s so supportive and sweet, not only to me but to everyone.
Ever since I started working for him, he’s become like another big brother to me.
He constantly encourages me to fight for what I want.
When Cam found out my father refused to promote me, he was super pissed.
He offered to march over to my father and talk to him on my behalf, but I vetoed that suggestion.
I want the marketing role when Maryse leaves on maternity because I earned it. And when she doesn’t return—because she has hinted on multiple occasions that this is her plan—I want my father to notice the great job I did in her absence and promote me to the role.
“Thank you.” The tightness around my chest loosens.
Cam takes a seat at the back of the room, with a few of his close friends who have arrived. I see Reed, Heath, and Blake. Only Nico and Lance have yet to arrive.
When Nico arrives, he shoots a wink my way. Since I started managing his social media, I learned that although he looks intimidatingly hot, he’s a good guy. I nod his way and watch as he swaggers to the back of the room and sits beside Heath.
More of the team starts funneling in, but I know when he arrives.
My body senses him.
Lance walks through the door and beelines to his teammates as the invisible golden threads he wrapped around my body that night shimmer and spark to life.
The hair on my skin stands on end. My stomach flips. My heart races. And the image of me riding him in the back of the cab comes rushing forward.
My eyes fall closed, and my cheeks heat at the memories.
When I open my eyes, he’s staring at me—mouth open, eyes wide in shock.
I swear, for just a second, everything melts away as we stare at one another. His lips twitch and his eyes sparkle, but in a flash the look is gone and his expression morphs into anger.
What the hell does he have to be angry about?
Unable to take his anger, I break eye contact and watch as Maryse starts the meeting. The beat of my heart pounds in my ears as I try to gather my wits and pull myself together.
My boss’s voice sounds like Charlie Brown’s mom until I hear my name. “Gwen? You’re up.”
My cheeks burn hot with embarrassment, and a few of the players chuckle.
“Right.” With a deep breath, I pull my shoulders back and stand. Ignoring the way Lance’s stare feels like daggers on my skin, I walk the team through this year’s spring training PR schedule and philanthropy goals for the season.
When I’m done, most of the team rushes out of the room with a hollered, “Thank you,” while Nico and Cam offer me a warm congratulation before heading out.
“I’m going to use the bathroom. Do you mind grabbing the laptop?” Maryse asks.
“Of course. I’ll meet you upstairs?”
“Sounds good.” Maryse hustles to the door but stops halfway and turns around. “Oh, and awesome job. You did great.”
“Thank you, Maryse.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Lance linger, waiting for Maryse and the last of his teammates to leave before he walks in my direction.
He passes me, and for a second, I think he’s going to leave without talking. Until he stops at the door and closes it with a deafening click.
The energy in the air shifts, and the room grows hot, almost suffocating.
Lance turns around and crosses his arms over his chest. I can’t help but stare at the way his thick biceps bulge from beneath the cuff of his Evaders blue shirt.
His scruff is a little longer than it was in November, as is his hair, which is usually clipped tight to the side of his head and only slightly longer on top.
Fuck me. He looks as hot as ever.
Menacing glare and all.
I should feel intimidated by this Adonis of a man, but I’m not. He might be six-five, and two-hundred and twenty-six pounds of pure muscle, but I know Lance. I may have only spent one night with him, but I know what it feels like to be treasured by him.
Lance is a good man. He would never hurt me. Or anyone.
I don’t know how much time passes, but neither of us speaks a word.
My traitorous body silently begs him to take me into his arms and hold me like he did that night. Bend me to his will and hold me down while he fucks me.
Instead, he just stares at me as if I betrayed him. The cornflower blue in his irises darkens like the stormy seas as he narrows his eyes at me.
The sound of a door slamming in the distance breaks the tension.
“Hey,” I croak.
He stalks toward me. For every step he takes forward, I take one back until my back hits the wall. He lays one of his palms on each side of my head and leans down. “‘Hey’? Seriously? That’s all you have to say?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were?” he asks.