Page 3 of Cross the Line
The business was so successful that they’d recently branched out into sponsoring various sports teams and athletes, a Formula 1 team among them, which would explain the party and paddock passes. If I wasn’t so proud of my brother for working his way up the ranks of such a flourishing company, I’d be jealous as hell.
But considering I’m being offered perks from his wins, I can’t complain that he’s doing better than me.
‘I know you’re not having the easiest time finding a job,’ he says before I can ask more about the event, ‘but this could be a good opportunity for you to network. You haven’t given up on the sports marketing dream, have you?’
Rolling onto my side, I pull my knees up to my chest. I’m more embarrassed by Oakley’s gentleness than I would be if he was making fun of me for still being unemployed.
A career related to sports has always been my dream. I grew up loving baseball and basketball, loved going to games with Oakley and our father, loved the electric energy of a crowd cheering for their favourite team. I was hooked from the second Dad took my hand and led me into my first stadium. There was no going back after that.
I wanted to be like the people on the field and the court. I wanted to run bases and make half-court shots. I wanted to hear my name chanted, to have it echo throughout the stands and beat in the hearts of fans.
Unfortunately, my body kept that dream from ever becoming a reality. Even though it took years and countless doctors to get a diagnosis of hypermobility, I knew early on that I was different from other kids. That I’d never get to do some of the same activities they did. My baseball career ended after a dislocated shoulder during my first tee-ball lesson, and basketball was simply out of the question thanks to all the running and sudden stops that my unstable knees couldn’t handle. Being an athlete just wasn’t in the cards for me.
So, after years of watching and learning from the sidelines, I figured sports marketing was the next best thing. I could still be immersed in a world that brought me joy, and I could share that joy with others. At least, I could if I got a job.
‘No, I haven’t given up.’ I sigh. ‘I’m still waiting to hear back from a few places.’
‘Then come to Monaco in the meantime,’ he wheedles. ‘Like I said, the event will be perfect for networking. Or, fuck it, just consider it a vacation on my dime. A joint graduation gift and a super early birthday present.’
‘All in one?’ I drawl. ‘Wow, you’resokind.’
‘Let’s be real. I’m only offering because Mom made me.’
‘So, I should be thanking her for this invitation and not you?’
‘Semantics,’ he says, dismissing my comment. Then he launches back into his pitch. ‘Just think of all the people you’ll meet. You know how many athletes and their teams will be at this party? If you don’t end up with a job offer at the end of the night, I’ll cliff dive off the coast.’
I snicker. ‘You’ll do that even if I get an offer.’ We both inherited the adrenaline-junkie gene. I just know better than to act on mine.
‘Probably,’ he concedes. ‘But seriously, Wills. This is a great opportunity. And you don’t even have to lift a finger. I’ll handle everything.’
I roll onto my back and study the ceiling, twisting the hem of my sundress between my fingers. ‘You promise it’s worth my time?’ I hedge, but excitement is already starting to bloom in my chest. ‘I don’t want to be away for too long and miss out on an interview.’
‘I promise. You can fly in on Wednesday and fly back Monday morning.’
Blowing out a breath, I mull it over. He’s right. It could be an excellent networking opportunity. And who wouldn’t want to spend a few days in one of the coolest places in the world? Besides, who am I to turn down a free trip?
‘Okay, fine,’ I blurt before my brain can catch up. ‘Take me to Monaco.’
CHAPTER 2
Dev
Monaco
I’m pretty sure everyone at this party thinks I have an STD.
For the record, I don’t and never have, despite my escapades that the press loves to report on. This rumour has everything to do with my social media manager –ex-socialmedia manager now – who quit her job by announcing to the world on all of my online platforms that I was the new face of at-home STD testing kit brand IYK Quick Results. Without it, I wouldn’t have discovered that I had chlamydia so quickly. But don’t worry, I’m being treated for it. Though, unfortunately, it’s an antibiotic-resistant strain. Some guys just have all the luck.
The posts gave the company a boost, but for me? I haven’t had sex in six weeks, and most of the women here won’t even look at me. It’s a goddamn disaster.
I know I have a case for defamation of character, but the damage is already done, and I’m not interested in hurting Jani in retaliation. Moving past it is my best option at this point. And if I’m being honest with myself, Imighthave deserved to face her wrath after everything I put her through while working for me. I wasn’t the easiest client, but who the fuck wants to have every aspect of their life documented for the whole world to see? Yet Jani insisted on it day after day until I finally snapped.
Unfortunately, that madehersnap in return. Now my reputation is in the shitter, my team is giving me the cold shoulder, and there are whispers that my sponsors believe I might not be the right person to represent them. I can’t lose them – can’t lose that money – because without it, I’ll lose my place with Argonaut Racing.
‘God, would you lighten up? You’re going to scare off all the women looking like that.’
Beside me, Mark innocently sips his champagne. His tux barely fits him, even though I’ve hounded him about replacing it. His shoulders challenge the seams of the jacket, and his pecs strain the buttons of the crisp white shirt. Any second, they’re bound to pop off and blind people unfortunate enough to be in the danger zone. With one glance, anyone would know the man has a job in fitness, and he clearly loves showing off his physique. If he wasn’t my performance coach and one of my best friends since kindergarten, I’d think he was an absolute douche for it.
