Page 14 of Her New Billionaire Bosshole

When we end the call, I drop the soccer back into my closet. It doesn’t even bounce — it’s too flat for that. The second I close the door, the fluttering in my chest calms down, settling.

It’s fine. Olivia and my parents think that I’m getting better. My sister even has the crazy idea that I could join a rec team around here.

I’m just in after-party mode. It’s what everybody says — if you can’t do, teach.

If you go down during the championship match and hurt your body so bad you can never come back to the game you love, slither into the consolatory role of coach.

But what they don’t know is that I’ll be perfectly fine, perfectly content going the rest of my life without ever kicking another soccer ball. It’s fine.

And despite Olivia’s best efforts, I’m going to get through this day without thinking about the man who’s already planning my downfall.

I finish my run, shower, dress. At the farmers market, I pick up eggs and veggies. Then I have dinner with my parents, Olivia propped up on Facetime. My mom makes roast, and Olivia practically cries over her fast-food burger. We have chocolate cake and my dad talks to me about the season, the feeling he has that this year, against all odds, we’re definitely going to beat Miami.

When I get home and climb into bed, I’m almost,almostable to forget about the fact that I’ll be meeting with Elliot Altman tomorrow.

Almost.

CHAPTER 7

ELLIOT

Bright and early on Monday morning, Skylar and I ride together to the practice facilities.

Despite the traffic, Dallas is actually decent first thing. The sun rises over the horizon, and the man on the radio is chipper, reporting surprisinglyfeweraccidents than normal.

The air even has the slightest chill to it this morning, which is refreshing compared to the heat. This time, the smoothie from Skylar comes from a local shop, and it manages to have a little more depth than justgoop.

All that to say, I’m in a good mood when we arrive and find the representative for Uniquest waiting for us.

He’s a tall man with a bald head and a wide smile, his belly straining against the buttons of his dress shirt. Not who I expected to be here, telling us about the benefits of a beauty brand collaboration.

“Mr. Altman!” he says, dragging out the last syllable. Beyond him, water mists in large arcs over the practice field. “Great tomeet you. Heck of a place for a business meeting, don’t you think?”

“Good morning, Randall.” I call him by his last name, give him wide smile, and pull him in to pat him on the back. I want him to feel the spirit of the fans I felt the other night. Informal, devoted. That’s why I decided to have this meeting at the practice facility — I want him to see what this sponsorship will do for his company. “Please, call me Elliot.”

“Well, all right, Elliot,” he laughs, following me as I lead him inside. I can’t help but think that at least he can follow that simple instruction, unlike others. “Let’s see what you’ve got for us.”

Inside, Skylar has just finished setting up the meeting room, and is speaking in a low voice with a younger man I assume to be Randall’s assistant.

This meeting room looks like the rest of the facilities here — outdated, worn. There’s nothing I can do about it now but make sure the remodeling starts right on time.

After grabbing a coffee, I chat with Randall, trying to keep him occupied without letting on that Sophie is late. Five minutes after our starting time, I give Skylar a look, and she darts out of the room, returning with a disgruntled-looking Sophie at her side, clearing pulled from her office.

I stand up. “Sophie, I’d like you to meet Reese Randall. He’s here to talk to us about the sponsorship for the team. Randall, I’m sure you’ve read over the information, but Sophie here is a huge part of what makes Dallas special.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sophie,” Randall says, standing and holding his hand out. Beside me, I can practically feel Sophie screwing her face up.

“You can call me Coach,” she says, giving his hand a firm shake.

To my relief, he lets out a loud, booming laugh, and we all take our seats. Skylar looks at me nervously, settling into her seat and opening her tablet to take notes. The young man at the head of the room takes his cue from Randall and clicks a button on his laptop, lighting up the presentation screen with a slide show.

“All right, folks,” Randall says, gesturing toward the screen. “As I’m sure you know, Uniquest Cosmetics is a subdivision within the larger Smith & Smyth company. Our brand is all about the individual — or, what makes them unique.”

The presentation changes from a photo of the brand’s logo to a clean white shelf lined up with various makeup products.

“We’re very excited to partner with the Dallas Bolts. As a major function of this partnership—” He pauses, waiting for his assistant to move to the next slide. It shows a rendered image of the team, but something is slightly off. By the time I realize what it is, Kendall is already stiffening beside me.

Randall goes on, “We’ll expect the players to use the products, demonstrating their effectiveness. We especially think the waterproof formulas will be helpful during games?—”