Page 94 of Blindside Sinner

She closes a folder on her desk and shoves it into a tray. “Do you know why you’re here, Sloan?”

I gulp. “No.”

“I called you in to discuss what happened after the game last night.”

I paint my expression with confusion. “I don’t think I know what you mean.”

She sighs as if she’s disappointed by my answer. “I’m concerned about you, Sloan. Beck is a player. You can’t let yourself be taken in by all that charm. You’re naive, I can see that, but Beckett Daniels is a player.”

I refrain from telling her that, for a player, he’s spent a lot of nights alone since I arrived on the scene.

She looks at me again, harder this time, eyes narrow, lips pursed. I don’t know if she’s trying to gauge whether or not I’m telling her the truth or if she’s thinking of something withering to say. “The truth is, Sloan, I’m underwhelmed by your performance with Beck.”

That lights a little bit of a fire under my ass. “Underwhelmed? I’ve done my job exactly. I’ve made sure he’s on time and ready for every practice, that he’s rested and sober. That he stays in the game and out of the tabloids. Which part of that underwhelms you?”

“I’m underwhelmed about the vibes I am sensing. Frankly, your relationship with Beck is… concerning. Cameras last night caught him saying some… unsavory things in your direction. While there’s nothing I can prove, I certainly shouldn’t need to remind you that there is a clause in your contract that prohibits sexual contact with Mr. Daniels.”

Heat creeps upward. I have to cover with the only other emotion, besides guilt and shame, that makes my face red—getting royally pissed off. “I have followed that contract to the very letter of every clause.”

She sits back and regards me for a while. A few long seconds tick off the clock before she speaks again. “You’re very familiar with him.”

“We live together. I’m his assistant. We’ve found a way to make it work. That’s all it is.”

She nods, not buying one bit of my bullshit. And who can blame her? I’m lying through my teeth.

I wait for her to reply, to decide whether or not to call me a liar and fire me, or to let it go and trust me. She takes her sweet time settling on it.

Then, at last, she purses her lips and nods once. “I want weekly progress reports from now on.”

I nod and keep my mouth shut. Talking more or defending myself won’t improve my position. The best I can do is let her get it out of her system.

She nods and waves me toward the door. Fine by me—I wanted this meeting to be over and now, it is. I’m sure as hell not sticking around a moment longer than I have to.

Instead, I stride out of her office and wait to react until I’m alone in the elevator.

What have I done?I did the one thing I swore I was not going to do. I fell into bed with Beckett Daniels. At least—and this is the lone saving grace to last night—we didn’t have sex.

I’m going to hang onto that. We didn’t have sex. And we’re not going to.

I can’t.

Not with him.

Not ever.

47

SLOAN

As soon as I’m in my car, I call Cassie. “I’m at DEFCON 5.”

“Okay, so not that bad. What’s wrong?”

“DEFCON 5 is bad, Cass.”

She laughs. “Popular misconception. If you’re at your most desperate, you would be at DEFCON 1.”

I wrinkle my nose in frustration. “Cass, could we focus? I need you.”

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