Page 5 of Blindside Sinner

“And you’ve been working at Rusty’s and the Tangerine Room full-time for the last year?”

“Mostly full-time. I work over thirty hours at both. Worked,” I correct. “Tonight is my last night at both jobs.”

Monroe has sworn about a thousand times that she’s baking me a cake for my last night at Rusty’s. Meanwhile, I’ll be lucky if my coworkers at the Tangerine Room don’t physically shove me out the door. To say hours are competitive there is an understatement.

Vivian doesn’t respond, just hums to herself. It’s weirdly condescending and I have to bite my tongue to keep from snarking at her.

Focus on the job, Sloan. You need the money.

“I see nothing in your background check that’s an issue, so let’s go over the details while my assistant is getting the employment contract ready for you to sign.”

I pull a pen and notepad out of my purse and get ready to take notes like there’s going to be a test later.

“The salary for this position is incredibly high, as we discussed, because it’s a Hail Mary to keep our target, Mr. Beckett Daniels, on the team. The owner, Hank Floyd, is willing to pay big bucks to keep the best—not to mention most expensive—player he’s got on the roster and out of the tabloids. You’re looking at over a hundred grand for the rest of the season if you do your job right. Room and board are included in your wages, as well as all expenses. I’ll give you a company card before the day’s over.”

I swallow and squeak out, “Sounds very generous.”

“It isextremelygenerous, actually. You’ll be a glorified babysitter. You’re responsible for getting Beck to his practices and games on time, according to this schedule.” She hands over a piece of paper brimming with color-coded columns. “There’s also an app your phone that syncs up with the team calendar.”

I’m barely hearing her.Babysitter?Sure, great, who cares.Beckett?Sounds like just another forgettable guy, on a team of forgettable guys, in a town of forgettable guys. I cansodo this.

I’m mostly focused on the dollar signs. Giddiness bubbles in my stomach as I imagine all the things I can do with that money.

No more scrounging for change between paychecks. No Bloodhound on my ass.

This job meansfreedom, pure and simple.

Vivian pushes a rectangular box across the table towards me. Inside is an iPhone model I’m pretty sure has not yet been released to the public.

“You’ll be required to go to all away games unless you are physically ill and unable to go.” She gives me a quirked,don’t-you-dare-be-sickeyebrow. “Travel accommodations willbe taken care of by the team. You’ll also get a bonus for those games. Consider it hazard pay for dealing with Beck, seeing as how he’s an even bigger nightmare on the road.”

Hm.Nightmare. I’m sure that’s an exaggeration.

“Wherever you are,” she continues, “your main job is to keep him away from negative press. He’s this close to being booted from the team.” She holds her thumb and forefinger a miniscule distance apart to illustrate her point. “Consider him on lockdown. No parties, no women, absolutely no arrests. Which means it will be your responsibility to keep him away from too much booze—and for God’s sake, don’t let him anywhere near anything harder than that. I’ll be around for the PR aspect of this, for the most part, but if there’s a press conference that I can’t attend, your job is to keep him from shoving his foot in his mouth. We’ll have weekly check-ins to monitor your progress. Does that all sound doable?”

I nod feverishly. I would walk through the fires of hell for six figures. My hand is nearly cramping as I try to write it all down. Vivian’s soft laugh brings my head up and my focus back on her.

I swallow again. “I just want to do a good job.”

“I can tell that about you.” Vivian tilts her head, those eyes seeing through me again. She must come to some decision about me, although she doesn’t deem it necessary to share, because she turns off her computer monitor and faces me head-on. “So. Now that we’re done with the official work business, I’m going to give you the real scoop on Beck.”

“Should I write this part down?”

“In blood.”

I wait for the laugh, but she’s not kidding. My throat feels suddenly dry again. “Got it.”

She folds her hands in front of her. “Beckett Daniels is a hard worker. It’s how he’s come so far in such a short period of time. He’s also a pleasure kitten. He wants what he wants when he wants it. He doesn’t like to be told what to do and he hates the word ‘no.’ He’s going to be irritated that he can’t swing his dick and get you out of his face, so don’t be surprised if he gets nasty in a hurry.”

The luster of the blinking dollar signs is starting to fade. I’m wondering suddenly whether I’ve gotten in over my head. I’m a waitress, for crying out loud, not a prison warden for a nutcase.

But the look in Vivian’s eyes says I’m in way too deep to turn back now.

“He can also be incredibly charming,” she warns. “He’s hotter than sin and he sees things that other people miss. He’s alert and focused and, as any number of jilted ex-lovers can tell you, when all of that attention is on you, it’s to die for. Don’t read into it. Don’t let it get to your head. And this most of all: donotfall in love with him.”

My laugh is acidic. “I doubt that’s going to be an issue. I don’t trust men like him.”

And I don’t. My father was like Beck: charming and charismatic to a fault. I trusted him to take care of us. Instead, he pushed my life so far off track, I’ll be in the weeds for years.

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