Page 8 of Miami Ice

“I’m your twin. I’m going to make sure you get what you deserve if you take on this dude. Because he’s a mess, Georgie.”

She gets up and hands me her phone. I scroll through it, seeing a mix of articles about what a good forward he is—like I even know what that means—along with articles about Beckham arriving late to practice. Nearly missing team charters. Right before the trade, he was scratched for showing up five minutes late for a training session.

“Wow. He is a mess.”

“Yep.”

I study his face for a moment. Beckham is good-looking, there’s no denying that. Thick, dark hair. Those large brown eyes that look oh so innocent. The slight scruff shading his jawline. The playful smile that tugs at the corners of his full lips.

I see his Connectivity Story Share, and he’s shown partying with friends. Or with beautiful women surrounding him.

A new Taylor Swift song comes to mind.

“I Knew You Were Trouble.”

I’m willing to bet Beckham Bailey is all kinds of trouble.

“He’s the biggest project you’ll ever have,” Ella says. “You’ll have to get him on time. Out of clubs. Appearing cheerful and on track with a sweet, steady girlfriend.”

“This is crazy. Who does this?Who?”

“You,” Ella says cheerfully. “If you’re brave enough to take him on.”

I groan again.

“Just go meet with them. See what they have to say,” she encourages. “If nothing else, you’ll get an amazing dinner out of it at Hotel Fredrico.”

I sigh. This is surreal.

Nutters.

Stupid?

It’s definitely all of the above.

But as I stare down at Beckham’s image on my phone, I can’t help but feel he holds the key to my future.

And I owe it to myself—and my business—to see if that is truly the case.

* * *

“Tell me this is insane and to go home right now,” I say into my phone as I walk through the opulent lobby of Hotel Fredrico. It’s nearly seven o’clock, and I’m on my way to have dinner with Sofia and Beckham. I’m talking to my bestie—Chloe—and I can tell she still doesn’t quite believe what I’m telling her.

Chloe and I have been friends since preschool, so I’d trust her with any secret. She’s a vault when it comes to that kind of stuff. So I can completely trust her with this proposition I have received and know it will go no further than her ears.

“Georgie, this is … this is …” Chloe’s voice trails off as she can’t come up with an apt description.

“Oh, I have a few words to help you. Completely insane? Something off BookTok? Utterly mad?” I fill in for her.

“Yes, it’s that, but I still can’t believe this is actually happening,” Chloe declares. “Not that I’m calling you a liar. I’m not. But this is … just crazy!”

“I know. I can’t believe I’m here,” I say, pausing and looking around the lobby for directions to the hotel’s posh restaurant. It’s already the holiday season at Hotel Fredrico. A massive tree is the focal point of the chic lobby, twinkling with white lights and ornaments in gold and red. There’s also a glass table filled with lush arrangements of flowers in red and white.

I can appreciate how beautiful it is, but it’s definitely missing some original charm as far as Christmas goes.

And some pink, I think with a grin.

“I still agree with Ella,” Chloe says. “You have to consider this.”

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