Page 5 of Shot Through the Heart

“So what did Lucy want?” Dominik asks, pulling open the building door and motioning for me to go in.

I roll my eyes, crossing the lobby toward the elevators. “To tell me I’m an asshole.”

“Wait, what?” Dominik faces me, his expression twisted with shock and disgust.

“She summarized some articles that were published over the summer about me.” I shrug, feeling slightly bad that I made her sound like a jerk. “She didn’t personally call me one.”

“Oh, good.” Dom sighs, stepping onto the elevator and hitting our floor buttons. “You didn’t get in trouble for that, right? Like that’s just what reporters and bloggers are making up out of nothing.”

“No, I mean, maybe. It does feel like I’m being tortured for their opinions.” I groan, staring blankly at the rising numbers.

“What do you mean?” he questions, turning to me with crossed arms.

“I have to find someone to ‘soften my image’ and have them come to some events with me.”

“Lucy told you to find a girlfriend? Is she even allowed to do that?” The disbelief in his tone rattles through the small space and I cringe.

“Either that or to borrow a friend from one of you guys.” The elevator finally dings at my floor and I nod in his direction. “I’ll see you at the gym in the morning.”

I don’t stick around for his response, beelining down the hall toward my place.

“Wait, Grey,” Dominik calls out just as I’m almost to my door. I close my eyes, forcing in a deep breath, and turn to face him. He’s closer than I expected and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looks uncomfortable. Something he hasn’t been since his first day on the team.

“What’s up?” I ask, attempting to lighten the mood, only for it to come out rumbly.

Dom scratches at the back of his neck and looks everywhere but at me.

“My friend Garrett, you met him last year at the beach. He just expanded his company.”

“Okay…” I raise a brow, not hiding my annoyance and confusion as to why this is being brought up now.

“One of the…services is about to enter the testing phase, and he mentioned needing to find volunteers.” He pulls out his wallet, plucks out a light pink business card, and hands it to me.

The words SweetHeart Assistance are printed in curly cursive letters on one side and contact information on the other. I’m about to awkwardly thank him and end this weird conversation when something he said finally processes.

“Wait, services? Are you telling me to hire a…” I trail off, not wanting to voice the fact that I think he’s telling me to hire a sex worker. I shake my head, shoving the card back in his direction. “I’m not into that kind of thing.”

Dominik’s eyes widen and he backs away with his hands up.

“What? No! Not that!” He shakes his head. “No, Garrett’s not a pimp or anything like that. They’re just testing out a kind of partnership. Like, needing someone to attend a gala with or someone to be seen for a couple photo ops, but that will remain professional. No sex involved.”

“Oh,” I say and drop my hand with the card still in it and think that through. “Sorry, that still kinda sounds like you’re suggesting I hire a fake girlfriend.”

“I mean, yeah. From what he said, there are contracts in place, boundaries set. So you know they would be professional and nice.” Dom shrugs, backing up another step. “You could always ask Landon or one of the guys if you could borrow a friend, though. Just thought I’d throw out a more…discreet option. Anyway, I’m gonna go.”

I stare at the elevator door long after he’s gone before finally shaking it off and heading into my condo. Tossing my wallet, phone, and that annoying pink card onto my counter, I start warming up a pre-made meal in the microwave and go about putting away my gear in the laundry room.

When I sit at the kitchen island to eat my dinner, Garrett’s business card snags my attention back to it and reminds me of the awkward talk with Dominik. Would hiring someone to come to these events be cheating? Maybe. But what are my other options? I’m sure if I called my mom, she would come down for a bit.

I immediately burn that thought from my brain. I love my mom…from four hundred and sixty miles away. I can barely put up with her for the forty-eight hours I see her during the holidays.

Plus, what twenty-five-year-old man wants to call their mom and ask them to do multiple public events with them? I want to look friendly so people stop spreading shit about my team, not come off as a spoiled mama’s boy.

So that leaves either asking one of my teammates to help me make a friend or call Garrett.

Or tell everyone to shove their opinions of me right up their asses and let me do my job.

While that is my favorite option, I know it’s not fair to my team.

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