Page 10 of The Rebel (Looking to Score 1)
I don’t know what to believe, but I know I’ll never go back to being Alex Braun’s girlfriend. On top of that, the season is set to start next week, and I don’t know how I’ll survive the shit show that is about to become my life.
Good times.
“Morning, Miss Wynn.”
Lester Benson peers at me over a mug of coffee. He manages the front office and is invaluable to me, both personally and professionally.
Too absorbed in this expense report I’m going over, I didn’t hear him come in.
Les pauses beside my desk, leveling me with a heavy stare. He was Grandpa’s right hand, working together with him for almost two decades. I trust the guy completely, and am so thankful he’s taken me under his wing.
He’s almost like a father figure, which is nice, given that my own father can’t figure out why I’m interested in this sport at all. Dad wanted to sell the team off to the highest bidder after Grandpa’s funeral. I had to fight for it. And Les helped me.
When I look up and meet Les’s eyes, he looks tired, like he hasn’t been sleeping well.
“We need to talk about your security detail.”
“Not this again.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t need a babysitter, Les.”
Oh, that’s the other thing. Apparently, I’ve been getting threats. Nothing credible, as far as I know, just a couple of angry fans most likely looking to stir up trouble. Some people don’t like the idea of a woman in charge, especially a young woman with perky breasts and no wrinkles.
But I know hockey, and I love this team and won’t let us fail. I’ll make my grandfather proud. And I’m certainly not about to let one dickhead of an ex-boyfriend, or a couple of cranky fans, stop me.
Les sets his mug on my desk and gives me that fatherly look that always melts my heart. “With the season opening days away and your schedule jam-packed . . . traveling and staying in hotel rooms, living alone when you’re here . . . it’s the smart move, Eden. You know it’s what Pete would want.”
I swallow. Grandpa Pete would have been adamant about my safety . . . Les is right about that. There would have been no room for negotiation on this topic if he were still alive, and yet that’s all I’ve been doing for two weeks. I don’t want to give in, but I’m tired of arguing.
The team already has a security crew. All they’re pushing for is to add a security contractor to look after me.
“Fine. If you must. But he’d better know to stay out of my way and let me do my job.”
“Of course, Miss Wynn.” Les’s bushy gray eyebrows lift. He was close with my grandpa, and I know Les misses his presence in these offices almost as much as I do. “It’s already been arranged. Your new head of security will be here in fifteen minutes so you two can get acquainted and set up some parameters.”
I heave out a long exhale. “Fine.”
Pressing my fingers against my temples to stave off an impending headache, I blink at my laptop screen. It’s been so hard to focus since Grandpa died. It’s like all my motivation up and vanished. I can’t concentrate on one task for longer than ten freaking minutes, and it’s driving me insane.
Somehow I doubt that that’s going to get any easier with some bodyguard watching my every move. I value my personal space and my independence, and I’m not in the mood to play nice right now. There’s too much to do. Too much riding on this.
The intercom on my desk phone buzzes, and my assistant’s voice rasps pleasantly through the speaker. “Miss Wynn, I have a Mr. Rossi here to see you.”
Rossi.
My eyes widen, and I glance at Les.
“Oh, good. He’s early.” Les nods, oblivious to my sudden panic. “He’s the best there is, just like Pete would have wanted for you.”
“Thanks, Aspen.” Swallowing, I straighten my knee-length pencil skirt as I rise from my desk. My high-heeled feet carry me toward the door on unsteady legs.
Les follows, and we both pause as my fingers curl around the doorknob.
“Les, what’s my new bodyguard’s first name?”
“Not a bodyguard. Think of him as extra security. You’re an extension of the team now.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. What’s my new head of security’s first name?”
“Holt, ma’am. Holt Rossi.”
4
* * *
HOLT
Eden made her choice all those years ago. She left my bed, with a hastily scrawled note as her only good-bye, and it was Alex she ultimately chose.
Even then, I couldn’t bring myself to regret that night we shared. I knew I was on borrowed time with a girl like her. There’s no way a guy like me, an imposter, would wind up with her in the end. The real world doesn’t work that way. I was nothing more than the blue-collar guy providing a cameo in her too-rich-for-my-blood world.
