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"Ha! That's rich coming from you, Sir 'I-Can't-Keep-My-Hands-To-Myself’.”
"Look, can we focus on the actual important part here? Like who's spreading these rumors and how do we stop them?" I ask impatiently. When she doesn't respond right away, I release a long breath. "Okay, being nice now. Please, Alex? I'll owe you one."
A few seconds pass before I guess she realizes I’m serious.
“Fine, fine,” she breathes out. “Seems someone on the team probably called it in. Told the press. The usual.”
"Shocker," I mutter under my breath.
"And as for how to stop the rumors, well...that's where things get tricky."
"Tricky? As in 'I-need-to-call-in-favors-and-pull-off-some-major-manipulation' kind of tricky?"
I hear a smirk in her voice now. "Tricky as in the word on the street is that the Blades have a new head of public relations. My suggestion? If you want to nip this in the bud, your best bet might be to work with them."
"That's surprisingly helpful, Alexandra." I push off the wall I've been leaning on, feeling a spark of hope. "Really helpful, actually. Who knew you had a heart under all that hatred?"
"Don’t get used to it, Jacob. I’d hate to ruin my reputation.” She pauses, then adds, “Good luck with the new PR head. You’ll need it."
"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," I reply sarcastically. But as I walk away, I can't help but feel grateful for Alex's surprising act of kindness.
For us professional athletes, journalists are usually the enemy.
But maybe, just maybe, I can make an unlikely ally in this new PR person. And with Alex's help, I might just be able to clear my name and prove all these rumors wrong.
I’ll have to if I don’t want the Chicago Blades’ owner George Corso canning my ass before next season.
As I make my way back to the team locker facilities, my mind is already racing with ideas about how to approach this new PR situation. One thing is for sure though—I need to come up with a killer charm offensive that will win over the Blades' new spokesperson.
Still riding the wave of unexpected kindness from Alexandra, I decide to strike while the iron’s hot. I head straight for the PR office. No sense in wasting any time, right?
I push through the throng of team members milling around the hallway, trying to map out what my first words should be. By the time I'm standing outside the PR exec's door, I've got a vague plan in place.
Flash a winning smile. Maybe crack a joke. Then lay on the charm.
It's a move that's been working since I was old enough to have my first kiss.
Easy peasy.
But the moment I step inside, all coherent thoughts evaporate like a puddle on a hot summer's day. Sitting behind the desk is none other than Gabriella De Luca.
Gio’s little sister.
Not to mention she’s the person I actually shared that first kiss with.
I feel my face flush as I try to think of something, anything to say. But all that comes out is a stilted, "What the fu...Gabs?"
She looks up from her computer screen and our eyes meet. The same big green eyes that used to make my heart race in high school.
But now, instead of the shy girl who always seemed to be hiding in Gio's shadow, I see a confident woman sitting before me. She looks amazing as always, the dark waves of her hair cascading over her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face.
Even behind a desk and dressed in a professional suit, she still manages to exude a natural sexiness that's impossible to ignore.
I clear my throat, trying to get my thoughts back on track. "I didn't know you were working here now."
A smile flashes over her mouth, one that doesn't exactly touch her eyes. "Uh, yeah. Gio thought it would be good for me to get some experience outside of the family business."
"Ah, yes. Running the PR for Nonna's tomato sauce business has probably been quite the learning experience. How is my favorite girl?"
