Page 16 of Her New Billionaire Bosshole

“Howard’s Landscaping,” I fire back, scowling. “They contribute a thousand dollars every year.”

Elliot’s eyes practically bug out of his head. It would be funny if it wasn’t frustrating — the fact that he can look gorgeous, evenwhen spitting mad. “Exactly. That’s why I’m confused about that entire meeting. Why you practically chased Randall out of there, when they were this close—” he raises his hand, pinching his fingers together to show a tiny distance, “to giving us a sponsorship deal.”

Now it’s my turn to blink back at him. “We arenotdoing a deal with a beauty brand like that. I don’t get how you don’t get what a mess that would be. To go through with it, period, let alone to try and talk the players into wearing itduringgames?—”

Elliot shakes his head, looking genuinely confused. “Half the girls?—”

“Women,” I insist. Maybe it’s a silly correction — I think of them and call them girls all the time, but right now, it seems important to say it. I expect, for a second, for Elliot to huff, say I’m ridiculous, march out of the room. But to my surprise, he just takes a deep breath and holds his hands up to me, palms out.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he says. “Half of thewomenon your team wear makeup for the games anyway. So why?—”

“You’re right,” I say, leg shaking with impatience. “Some of them choose to. For some of them, it varies game to game. But it’s their choice, and making a deal like that might get in their heads.”

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, so let’s say a player usually wears makeup, says she’ll do it for the next six games, for this sponsorship. But morning of, she just doesn’t want to. Doesn’t have the extra time for it. Would be much better for her — and the team — to focus on getting herself in the right mental space. But because there’smoney involved like this, because we signed a contract about it, she has to go through with it.”

“You’re saying, a sponsorship like this could lose us games?”

“Something like that.” The idea of losing games does not sound good to him. That, at least, is something we can agree on. “But also, just think about it for a second. Put yourself in our shoes. Imagine if a men’s soccer team should be sponsored by… by… an ED drug?”

The moment the phrase slips out of my mouth, I realize I’m alone with Elliot in my office, and it’s suddenly very hot. I work to keep my mind from straying too far, thinking about erectile dysfunction.

Mentally shaking myself, I refocus on him and — unless I’m imagining it — realize there’s a slight blush over his cheeks too. Rather than sit in this discomfort, I find myself rolling forward, listing more ridiculous sponsors for a men’s soccer team.

“Or hair plugs?” I bring my hands up, circling them, like I’m trying to pull another idea from the air, snatch it up to move us along. “Or, I don’t know, the doctors that do prostate exams? Or?—”

“You’ve made your point,” Elliot says, glowering at me. If only he didn’t look so good doing it. “But mine still stands. This place needs cash, needs more sponsors.”

“Not sponsors like that.”

“Without cash, everything around here is going to crumble. It’s a house of cards as it is. You’re honestly lucky I bought the team when I did.”

“Oh, please,” I scoff, waving my hand at him. “We were fine before you got here, and we’ll be fine long after you’re gone.”

Pleasure coils through me at the sight of the surprise on his face.

Then, he laughs, eyebrows shooting up. “Oh, you thinkI’mgoing? If it’s you or me, Kendall, it might do you some good to remember who the decision-maker is here. Iownthis team.”

That makes melaugh.

Elliot Altman really thinks he can waltz in here and take over. And he thinks getting rid of me is even something on the table. He watches me as I giggle and shake my head, fist to my mouth.

“Oh,” I chuckle, running a finger under my eye — mostly for the dramatics. Also for the way it makes his left eye twitch. “Are you trying to threaten my job right now, Altman?”

He says nothing, just stares, crossing his arms. Trying to be intimidating.

It might have worked on someone else, but not me. I’ve stood my ground enough in my life to know there’s not a chance in hell I’m about to back down now.

He’s a tall man, muscular, but doesn’t seem to understand that he’s fighting a battle he’s not going to win. I meet his eyes, hold the gaze, even as it makes my pulse flutter at my wrist like a trapped bird.

“I thought you were smarter than that,” I say, tilting my head, letting a smile curl over my lips. “You’re not getting rid of me, Altman. Not if you want to makeanymoney.”

His confidence slips a little, though he does a good job of covering it up, rolling his eyes a bit as he says, “What are you talking about?”

“Youmay be the owner,” I gesture at him, then tap my own chest with my pointer finger, “butI’mthe heart.”

Swinging my arm and pointing out the message, I go on, “And the fans? The people up there in the stands, buying the tickets? They will riot if you even think of getting rid of me. I’m one of the best coaches in this league, for one. But more importantly, Ibelongin Dallas. They know it, and I know it. And if you try to fire me, you’ll find out mighty quick.”