Page 10 of Game Misconduct
She meets my glare, unflinching, stunningly composed. “I know enough. Enough to see you have something left to prove. Mostly to yourself.”
A slow, hot breath fills my lungs. My jaw flexes as I fight a rising tide of discomfort. I step closer again, forcing her chin upward.
Her breath hitches softly, causing a dark glee to race through my veins at that tiny victory.
“You have no idea what I want, Sloane.”
She holds her ground, that stubborn mouth curving slowly, dangerously. “Then enlighten me.”
Why the fuck do I find her so tempting, terrifying, impossible?
Sloane watches me closely, eyes flickering briefly to my clenched jaw before returning resolutely to my eyes.
“You delivered your message. You can leave the same way you came in.”
My shoulders tighten, awareness coiling sharply as she pauses, refusing to retreat. Instead, her voice comes soft, whisper-close, searing through my defenses.
“You’ll sign.” Her voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t let pride cost you your career.”
She picks up the envelope, walks over, and places it in my hands. Her fingers brush mine—barely.
But the contact of our skin hums between us.
“You’ve got two days. After that, the offer’s gone.”
She turns to leave, her heels clicking sharply, echoing in thesilence.
“You always this pushy with your players?”
She spins on one of her spiky heels, a sharp feline smile curving her lips. “Only the ones worth the trouble.”
Her words are a sucker punch to my gut. I stand frozen, my breath tight, my pulse erratic.
The front door closes quietly, the scent of her perfume lingering in the air, making my knees weak.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I drop down on the sofa with a heavy sigh just as the vibration of my phone shatters the silence.
A message from Peter lights up the screen and after reading it, I bite back a growl. His words are a reminder I don’t need.
Peter: Atlanta’s a good market. Don’t screw this up.
Leaning back, I stare up at the ceiling as though it will give me all the answers. I sit in the heavy, suffocating silence long after Sloane walked out.
Deep within, beneath the layers of anger and pride, a flicker ignites. A reckless hope I’d nearly extinguished.
Maybe Sloane Carrington is right.
Maybe I'm not finished yet.
Maybe I can still prove them all wrong.
My heart pounds, erratic with sudden, unwanted possibilities.
The fight in the locker room wasn't only about defending a rookie. I can’t escape the cold, hard truth.
I want redemption.
