13. Ariella
THIRTEEN
ARIELLA
KICKING MY FUCKING FEET!
I’d barely registered the walk down to HR’s office, passing the white walls in a daze. The guy I was never supposed to see again because he was too distracting was now one of my players? Of course this would happen to me.
“Ms. Contreras.” The nasally voice snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. “Please, come in and have a seat.”
“Mr. Monroe said you wanted to see me,” I said, reaching into my bag for the packet he’d sent me with. “I haven’t filled this out yet. Want me to finish it here?”
“There’s actually no need for that, Ms. Contreras.” Her flat tone and the way she avoided eye contact sent a chill up my spine.
Confused, I stilled, watching the middle-aged woman adjust her wire-rimmed glasses, her eyes darting down to the paperwork.
“I don’t understand. Am I supposed to fill it out online or…? ”
She cleared her throat. “What, exactly, is your relationship with Mr. Langley?”
Mr. Langley?
I forced a polite smile, trying to keep things professional. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you mean. Mr. Langley’s my boss, but I haven’t actually met?—”
She cut me off with an exasperated sigh, as if she’d heard enough. “No, no. Not that Mr. Langley, his son.” She lifted her gaze, finally meeting my eyes, her expression sharp and assessing.
I’d been on the receiving end of plenty of judgmental looks—the kind where a person looked at me like I was clueless—but this time, I actually was. I leaned forward in the scratchy office chair, trying to sweeten my tone. “Look, Ms…” I peeked down at her name placard, “Adams, it’s my first day. The only people I’ve met so far are the receptionist, Jasmine, and Josh?—”
“Let me stop you there. I’m not interested in games.” Her voice dripped with impatience as she slapped a photo onto the desk. “Now, I’ll ask you again. What is your relationship with Dalton Langley?”
My breath stalled as I looked down at the photo. A perfect snapshot from that night. Dalton tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes on me like we were the only two people in the room.
It was intimate, sure, but not scandalous.
“Aha. So you do know Mr. Langley,” she said, her tone as smug as it was infuriating.
I forced my expression to stay neutral as I pushed the photo back toward Ms. Adams, my brain whirring with this new information. “I wasn’t aware that my private life would be subject to scrutiny,” I said, keeping my voice even. “I wasn’t lying to you, I don’t commonly think of Dalton as Mr. Langley.”
Because I had no clue that was his last name until two seconds ago…
“Nevertheless, our policy is clear, Ms. Contreras. We do not hire individuals with former romantic ties to active players. Mr. Langley, Dalton’s father, has a strict mandate against any risk of entanglement that could jeopardize his team’s reputation.”
She said it as if my fate had already been decided.
A rush of frustration tightened my chest. This was completely unfair. “Ms. Adams, I was hired based on my skills and experience. Whatever assumptions this photo suggests don’t change my ability to do my job.”
Her gaze remained unyielding. “It’s not personal, Ms. Contreras. I simply enforce the rules. And given your…previous connection, I’m afraid your employment here can’t continue.” She slid a severance packet across the desk. “Please sign this NDA regarding the nature of your termination. Afterward, you’ll receive severance and be escorted from the premises.”
I sat there, feeling my dreams slipping through my fingers. I’d worked too damn hard for this job, this opportunity, to make my own way, to have a photo derail my future.
If there was one thing my parents had taught me, it was when shit got hard, you worked harder. I’d experienced firsthand how my parents had fought and scraped to carve out their own place in this country, never giving up even when those more privileged told them their efforts were a lost cause.
I wouldn’t either. That lethal combination of desperation and determination kicked in, and I spat out first thing that came to mind.
“Is there a policy against employees dating?”
Ms. Adams looked surprised by the question. “No…” she dragged out the word, shifting her gaze to her computer, typing away. “Hmm. There doesn’t seem to be a policy prohibiting current employees from dating if no conflict of interest exists…”
Her response sparked something reckless in me, and I took a steadying breath, forcing myself to sound calm—like it wasn’t my last hope.
“Then let’s clarify something,” I said, meeting her gaze. “Dalton and I aren’t ex-anything. We’re currently dating.”
Her eyes narrowed as she processed my words. “Excuse me?”
I leaned in, slipping the severance packet back across the desk. “You said the policy allows for employees currently dating, and we are. So there’s no violation here.”
This move wasn’t winning me any brownie points in her book. She looked conflicted, like she wanted to push back but knew it wasn’t her place to do so. I only hoped this lie didn’t blow up in my face before I could come up with a more permanent solution.
“Fine, Ms. Contreras. I’ll inform Mr. Langley of this… development. But know this, any improper conduct and you’ll be out the door without question.”
“Understood. ”
Leaving her office, my heart raced, equal parts relief and anxiety swirling inside me, because what the fuck did I just do ?
“Note to self. Always ask a man’s last name and occupation,” I muttered, storming down the hall, pushing open a metal door with bold black letters.
When I barged into the locker room, a chorus of shouts followed, but I ignored them all. I was a woman on a mission, and no one was stopping me from reaching my destination.
“Where’s Dalton?” I barked at Roberts. The look of shock on his baby face would have been hilarious if I wasn’t so pissed. The walk over here had only added fuel to my fire.
I was ready to fight a full-grown man.
“Now, Roberts.”
“Uh—he’s over there.” He pointed. “Cap uses the one on the left.”
He’d barely gotten the second part out, and I was already halfway across the room, yanking open the curtain. Steam billowed out of the tiled stall, hot water sprinkling my face.
“What the hell, Jime—Ari?” Dalton scrubbed a hand down his face, looking at me as if I’d grown a second head.
“You are going to fix this, do you understand?” I seethed, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I worked too damn hard to get this job and finally move out of my parents’ home to have it all fall apart on the first day. Do you know what it’s like to be twenty-five and have to sleep in a twin-sized bed at your parents’ house? Of course you don’t because you’re apparently the son of the man who owns this whole damn thing.” My voice rose another octave higher as I waved my arms around. “And yeah, currently, my bed is about the same size, but at least when I want to leave the house, I don’t face an interrogation. I mean, I love my family, but damn, now that I know freedom…I’m not going back, Dalton. Do you hear me?”
I was out of breath by the end of my rant-turned-information dump.
It happened sometimes when I was overly worked up.
I was honestly surprised I hadn’t switched to Spanish midway—or maybe I had.
He blinked a few times, his lips twitching in a way that told me he was trying not to laugh. Which only pissed me off more. “Darlin’…I’m going to be honest. I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t you, darlin’ me.”
Of course, he didn’t. HR would only speak to the woman involved. Because why on earth would they talk to the man in this situation? Pinching the bridge of my nose, I unleashed a string of Spanish curses under my breath.
“Ariella, babe?” came Jimenez’s voice from beside me. “There a reason you’re in the men’s locker room? I don’t know how HR would?—”
“Oh, are you worried I’ll get fired, Jimenez?” I snapped, turning to unleash my fury on him. “Because that’s exactly what they tried to do.”
Professionalism had left the building. Hell, it wasn’t even in Texas anymore.
Silence fell over the room.
“What? What do you mean they tried to fire you?” Dalt growled, reaching for the knobs on the wall. And like blinders being lifted, I was suddenly aware of the droplets rolling down his chiseled chest, making their way to?—.
“Oh my god, you’re naked.” I slammed my eyes closed, covering them with my hand for good measure. I needed to go to confession because, honestly, I wanted to peek through my fingers and see a bit more.
Jimenez burst out into a fit of laughter at my expense. “ Mami , what did you think you would see when you ripped open the shower curtain? Cap in a pair of swim shorts?”
My stomach swooped at the thought of what I’d almost seen, and a tinge of disappointment that I hadn’t looked lower.
Dalton cleared his throat. “You can look now.” A white towel hung low on his hips, and I had to fold my arms over my chest to hide the effect it had on my nipples. “Jimenez, go tell the guys to get some damn clothes on.”
“Sure, Cap. I’ll let them all know you’ll beat their ass if they flash your girl,” he teased, yelping when I grabbed an extra towel off the hook and snapped it at him. “Fuck, you got my nipple.” For good measure, I did it again. “Ow, shit. How are you so good at that?” he asked, covering both with his hands like a makeshift chest plate.
“I’ve got an annoying brother and primos who are a lot like you. Perfected this shit years ago.”
He backed away, shaking his head. “She’s all yours, Cap. But I’d be careful, bet she’s deadly with a chancla, too,” he said, leaving a half-naked—and wet—Dalton and me alone.
“Okay, Ari,” Dalton said, gingerly gripping my chin between his thumb and forefinger, directing my attention back to him. “Start from the beginning so I can fix this.”
But all that move did was make my head fuzzy and my heart beat faster.
I took a steadying breath, trying to focus on his words instead of the warmth of his hand or the fact that we were standing inches apart, him still dripping and wrapped in a towel.
Professionalism, Ari. Stay focused.
“I don’t need you to fix anything, Dalton.” I released a frustrated breath. “I already did. But to get around your father’s ridiculous policy, I had to lie.”
His brows furrowed, concern flickering in his gaze as he slowly dropped his hand. “I’m not following…”
“The Desperados don’t employ any ‘ex-romantic interests.’ Too much risk for bad press, according to your father,” I said, irritation lacing my tone. “Apparently, that includes fake dates to avoid your real ex. HR called me in, slid a picture of us together across the desk, and handed me a severance packet. The real kicker was they wanted me to sign an NDA that wouldn’t allow me to discuss the reasons for my release.”
A spark of anger crossed Dalton’s face, his jaw clenching. “They tried to fire you over a single photo? They couldn’t even talk to me?”
“Exactly.” I felt the frustration building all over again. “And when I tried to stand my ground, she dismissed me.”
His gaze softened, a flash of something protective in his eyes. “So, what’d you do? You said they tried to fire you. Are they changing the policy?”
I took another breath, steadying myself. “I improvised. I asked if there were any rules against employees dating, and when she said there weren’t…” the rest of the words seemed to get caught in my throat, but I took a breath and steeled myself. “I told her you and I were currently dating. That I’m not an ‘ex’ anything.” My heart was racing, and I fought back the urge to fidget, waiting for him to freak out.
Dalton’s eyes widened in surprise, but then his lips quirked into a half-smile. “You told HR we’re together?”
“I didn’t exactly have a lot of options,” I said defensively, crossing my arms. “It was either that or hop on the next plane back to California and try to explain to my family why this opportunity fell apart on day one. So yes, I told HR we’re dating. Now, you’re going to play along until I can figure out a better solution. Please.” I winced at how harshly I bit out the please, but I felt like a live wire.
“Hey, hey.” He pulled me into his arms, and I tried to ignore how it felt to be pressed against his skin. “You’re not going to have to move back, okay? And you’re not losing your job.”
I pulled back far enough to look up at him. “Promise?” For the first time since this disaster happened, I felt some of my worry leech into my voice, needing to release some of the building pressure.
“Pinky,” he said, with confidence, wrapping his finger around mine. “I’m sorry, Ari. This mess is on me, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right. I’m with you on this—whatever you need.”
I felt a wave of relief mixed with something I didn’t want to investigate. “Thanks, Dalton,” I said, my voice quieter than intended. “I know this wasn’t part of the plan for either of us, but…I appreciate it. ”
He gave a small, reassuring smile, releasing me as I stepped back out of his embrace. “Anything to help, Coach. I’ll be the best fake boyfriend you’ve ever had.”
I forced myself to look away, trying to ignore the towel still slung dangerously low on his hips.
God, I needed to get out of there.
“Okay, I’m leaving now,” I said, clearing my throat and stepping back. “The last thing I need is HR finding another reason to fire me before I’ve even fixed this one.”
Dalton laughed softly. “Wouldn’t want that.”
With one last nod, I spun on my heel and left the locker room, my heart pounding as I slipped out the door.
What the hell did I get myself into?