because I’m not ready to have this conversation with anyone. It’s enough that my head is telling me what a bad idea this is. I don’t need to hear it out loud.
“You and Nico,” Trevor says, and I look at Francis to see what he has to say, but all he does is look over at Trevor. “It’s the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
“Nothing is going on.” I put my hands up. “He needed a player, and I helped him acquire one. It was a win-win for everyone.” They both just stare at me. “And then we had the whole Manning situation and …”
“And we have a policy,” Francis says. “The don’t shit where you eat policy.”
“I am not shitting nor eating anywhere.” I point at him. “And you are not exactly the person who should be telling me the rules. You were having an affair with your client’s wife.”
“Girlfriend,” he corrects me. “At the time, she was his girlfriend, and they were on a break. Then they got back together and got married.”
“They were on a break.” I roll my eyes. “Please.”
“Listen, we know that you would never do anything to jeopardize what you have achieved.” I swear Trevor’s an old soul. “You are also old enough to know what is right and what is wrong.”
“Nice talk, Dad,” Francis says, getting up. “What dipshit is trying to say is it’s a bad fucking idea,” he says, and I think he’s done, but he isn’t. “A horrible, horrible idea.” He turns and walks out of the office.
Trevor gets up. “We’ll support you with whatever,” he says, walking out of the room, and what was a happy moment turned into so much more doubt than I care to think about. So I don’t. Instead, I bury myself in my work, returning phone calls and making sure that all of Manning’s sponsors hear from me.
“Are you ready?” Francis says, coming into my office, and I stand to grab my jacket. “Are you not going to change into something more comfortable?”
“No,” I say, looking down at my outfit. I’m wearing a fitted one-piece white turtleneck long-sleeved dress with a beige jacket over it. “It’s a hockey game.”
“And I’m going for work,” I say, and he shakes his head.
I walk out with him, and we park in our usual spots, walking into the arena. The phone goes off in my hand, and just as soon as I see who it is, I hear him say my name.
“Becca.” I turn my head, and there he is, the man who has slowly crept into my head.
“Nico.” I say his name, and it’s almost in a whisper.
Chapter 10
Nico
“The press is all over the place,” I say to Lizzie while we walk the halls of the arena. The fans have started coming in, and I look down, and then it’s almost as if my body knows she’s close. I look up and around, and I spot her right away. How could I fucking not?
She looks like sex on a fucking stick. My cock becomes semi-hard just looking at her tight ass from the back. My eyes roam all the way down to her fucking sky-high red bottom heels. Lizzie was right—those shoes scream sex. I’ve never actually noticed fucking shoes before, but with her wearing them, the only thing I can think of is fucking her while she wears them.
“Is that Becca?” I hear Lizzie from beside me. “Only she could pull off that look at a game.”
“Becca.” I call her name as soon as I get close to her, and when she turns, I swear I feel like someone kicked me in the stomach. Not only is her hair perfectly styled but the white dress hugs her every fucking curve. The front of her shoes are white, and the back has a leopard print. But what gets me the most is her red-painted lips that scream to be kissed.
“Nico,” she says my name in a whisper, and if I wasn’t closer, I wouldn’t have heard her.
“I didn’t know you were coming to the game,” I say once I stand in front of her.
“I thought Manning could use the support,” she says and then looks over at Lizzie. “You look amazing,” she tells her, and Lizzie laughs.
“I’m in awe every single time I see you,” Lizzie says, and then the guy next to Becca sticks out his hand.
“Hi,” he says, and Lizzie turns to him. “I’m Francis, Becca’s brother.” I look at him, and not one part of