Page 58 of Faking the Shot
Hostile work environment? Like I’m the only one responsible for the dumpster fire that is this team?
“Like hell I’m creating a hostile work environment,” I fire back, leaning toward her. “All I do is push my team to be the best they can be. It was fine when we were winning, but now that we’re struggling, suddenly I’m the bad guy?”
“This—” she gestures toward me, eyes blazing—“is exactly what I’m talking about, Kaden. Not everything is about you. Don’t you think Linus already knows he’s playing like shit? Don’t you think your team realizes they’re falling behind in the standings? You think they need you constantly in their faces about it?”
Her words hit like a sucker punch. I gape at her, scrambling for a comeback, but nothing sticks.
“I don’t need this,” I bark, standing abruptly and looming over her. “If I wanted someone else to beat me down, I’d have stayed at practice. You’re supposed to be helping me. Isn’t that your fucking job?”
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink. Instead, she tilts her head and calmly meets my glare. “I am helping you, Kaden. You just have to be willing to accept it.”
Her voice is maddeningly even, and then she shrugs, like this is the simplest thing in the world. “I’m not here to sugarcoat anything. If you want me to work with you, you’ll have to act like a decent human being. Not this half-assed, brooding asshole that everyone hates. If you’re not going to work on that, you’re wasting my time.”
Her words hit harder than I expect, and for a moment, I just stare at her. My jaw clenches so tightly it aches.
Finally, I exhale through my nose and let my shoulders drop. “Fine,” I grumble. “We’ll do it your way.”
Her brows shoot up, like she’s surprised I conceded.
“But we’re still dating, right?” I add, my lips curving into a smirk. “Because I already picked up the ring.”
Her mouth falls open, and she gapes at me like I’ve grown a second head. “What?”
“You heard me,” I say, leaning back against the counter. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Valentina. We’ve still got a deal, and if I have to grovel to make it work, I will. But don’t think for a second that I’m not serious about us.”
The look on her face is priceless—equal parts stunned and flustered. And if I didn’t feel like shit about how I treated her yesterday, I’d tease her even more.
Instead, I cross my arms and wait for her response, because for once, I’m not backing down.
“We weren’t dating. It’s fake,” she squeaks, her voice higher than usual, betraying her nerves.
“Oh, we are. It was temporary, remember,” I say, my tone low and deliberate. Because damn if I’m letting her get away. I need her.
Her calm, the way she grounds me when everything feels like it’s spinning out of control. Her fire, how she never backs down, even when I’m being an absolute asshole. Her goddamn laugh, soft and warm, the kind of thing I didn’t realize I craved until she gave it to me.
And yeah, her pussy. I want to bury my cock so deep inside her she forgets her own name. I want to claim her in every way possible.
She’s mine, and I’ll make her see that.
Even if it’s a fake shot for now.
Even if she’s still pretending we’re just playing a role.
She can tell herself whatever she wants, but this? Us? It’s real as fuck to me. Because Valentina Holiday is it for me. She just doesn’t know it yet. But I’ll show her.
Her mouth opens and closes, like she’s trying to come up with a counterargument but can’t find one that sticks. Her cheeks flush, and that little wrinkle between her brows appears—the one that drives me insane because it’s so her.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, leaning forward, my voice dropping into something rougher, more intimate. “Tell me, baby.”
Her eyes flick to mine, and for a moment, I think she’s going to say something real. But then she straightens her shoulders, pulls herself together, and tilts her chin up in that defiant way she does.
“I’m thinking you’re insane,” she mutters.
I chuckle darkly, stepping closer until I’m towering over her, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin.“Maybe. But all I need is for you to give me a chance. To believe in me—to let me in. Because I don’t just need you for my PR. I need you, period. I need you to help me figure out why, in the past month, I’ve missed you so fucking much. Why every time I pick up my phone, I almost text you, just to hear you say something snarky back. Why I can’t stop thinking about how you smile when you’re trying not to. Why the memory of your lips on mine keeps me up at night.”
Her lips part, but no sound comes out. Instead, she just stares at me, her chest rising and falling a little too fast, like she’s fighting to keep her composure.
I take a step closer, my voice dropping lower. “Let me grovel. Let me prove I’m not the asshole you think I am. You have every right to slam the door on me, but if you let me, I’ll show you I want you in my life—on your terms, not mine. Because this past month without you? It’s been hell. And I don’t want another day of it.”
