Page 16 of Recruited By the Billionaire

“You wantmeto brief him? Shouldn’t one of the recruiters be doing that?”

“They already briefed him. He wants tidbits. He wants a personal assessment. He wants to know what you think he should do.”

Frankie thought that was the craziest thing she’d ever heard. “He wants to know whatIthink he should do? Why would he care what I think? Laine, I truly believe you should send somebody far more seasoned than I am.”

“And I agree with that,” Laine said, handing her a thick folder. “But who am I? I just work here too. And he selected you. Now get downstairs and brief him. You know every one of those names in that folder.”

She saw the flustered look on Frankie’s face. “Just be yourself and give him honest assessments. He can’t expect any more from you. You can do it. Now get downstairs.”

“Where downstairs?”

“In his limo. He’s headed to the airport. You’ll ride to the airport with him, and then come on back.”

It sounded like pure lunacy to Frankie, but she wasn’t being paid to pick and choose her assignments. “Yes, ma’am,” she said with folder in hand, and hurried out of Laine’s office.

She grabbed her jacket and briefcase and took off again, this time hurrying even faster than when she hurried in. Wondering if he would fire her if she didn’t know her stuff.

And when she got downstairs and saw Robert and his entourage talking with famous NFL players she used to watch on TV but were now working in the same organization she was working in, she almost wanted to pinch herself. Then Robert said, “I’m expecting great things from you guys this season.” Then they all said, “we won’t let you down, Mr. Marris.” Then they headed toward the stadium while Robert and his entourage headed out of the lobby doors and toward the limousine.

Frankie hurried and joined him and his entourage. But as soon as they made it out of those double doors, the massive press contingent overwhelmed them with cameras and microphones and questions being hurled left and right. Frankie was stunned.

The bodyguards surrounded Robert and were ushering him toward the waiting limousine, and Frankie and the others did all they could to keep up. Until one particularly aggressive reporter decided to reach past Frankie, who was on the other side of Robert’s bodyguard, to shove a microphone into Robert’s face. But in reaching over Frankie, the reporter pushed her so awkwardly that she fell to the ground.

Robert, seeing her fall and fearing that she could be trampled on, immediately pushed past his bodyguard and grabbed her up back on her feet. “Are you okay?” he asked her.

“I’m okay,” Frankie said, amazed that he would look so concerned about a nobody in his organization like her.

But when Robert saw that terror in her eyes, as if she thought she was going to be trampled too, his anger rose and he turned toward that reporter and punched him so hard that the reporter fell straight back. Cameras were clicking when it happened. Another viral moment he would have to explain to the NFL commissioner.

But the commissioner worked for the owners, not the other way around, and Robert didn’t give a shit. His bodyguards took charge again, and hurried him to the limo before any more bad press could be accumulated.

And when Frankie saw the big, black stretch limousine waiting at the curb, she could hardly believe it. She was about to brief the owner of the Pensacola Admirals. She wasthat girl! And he had helped her to her feet. Another good sign. And instead of going in with fear, she decided to embrace the role. She knew about their draft potentials as well as any of the other aides in the recruiting office. She did her homework as soon as she was handed those piles of briefing books when she was first hired, and was still working overtime getting to know all the potentials on the various lists. She at least felt confident she could do the job.

But as soon as she got into that limo and sawTHERobert Marris sitting across from her, within inches across from her, and he gave her a look that for some reason bordered on disdain to her, her heart began beating in her ears. She wasn’t scared anymore at all. She was petrified.

CHAPTER EIGHT

In over her head.

That seemed to be the prevailing sentiment when Frankie got into that limo to brief the boss. Jerry was sitting there. So were Robert’s three assistants that had gotten in with Robert. And they all gave Frankie thatwho is this chickvibe she knew so well. As if she had hoist herself into their circle. As if she was some ambitious intruder that had invited herself along.

Not that any of those assistants viewed her as competition. They were too young and gorgeous to worry about some thirty-something “old lady” stealing even a moment of Robert’s attention. But it was in how they looked at Frankie that made her feel their negativity. They didn’t seem to see anything about her that would make her worthy of the role she had been given. But she had been given the role, and she was going to do her job.

She extended her hand to Robert as the limo began driving off. “Good morning, Mr. Marris. My name is--”

“Broadhurst,” Robert said, cutting her off. And not bothering to shake her hand.

Frankie could see the ladies smile when he wouldn’t shake her hand, but she refused to let them shake her confidence. She opened the folder Laine had given to her, to find Broadhurst’s profile, but she couldn’t find him.

“He’s not in there,” Robert said. “You only know what you’ve been given?”

“That’s what it seems like,” Jerry echoed.

Frankie looked at Jerry. Where was all of this animosity coming from? He didn’t even know her! Then she looked at Robert. “Boots Broadhurst,” she said, trying to search the rolodex in her mind. It didn’t fail her. “Broadhurst ran the 40-yard dash at a blistering four-five at the Combine,” she said.

Jerry and the assistants looked at her.

But Robert appeared less impressed. “So what? Mike Collins ran a four-eight, which isn’t as fast as a four-five, I’ll grant you that. But he’s also an excellent passer. Broadhurst is not.”

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