The Game by Vi Keeland by Vi Keeland

“Thank you.”

The top floor of executive suites was nothing like my old, dingy office. The bright halls were decorated with framed action shots of players and an array of awards and accolades. When we came to the end of the hall, Josh took keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door.

“This is your office.” He pushed the door open, but stepped aside for me to enter.

“This is an office?”

He chuckled. “It is, and it’s all yours.”

I walked over to the long wall of glass that looked down into the stadium. A few athletes were out on the field below, stretching. “You do know I’ve asked Tom Lauren to stay on as acting team president, the position he’s held since John Barrett passed, right? I’m co-president, but it’s just in name. I have a lot to learn. So maybe Tom should have this office.”

Josh smiled. “His isn’t too shabby. It’s down the hall. I booked you a sit-down with him at eleven today, and there’s a luncheon staff meeting at twelve thirty. Then at four, you have a quick meet and greet with the team when practice ends. Otherwise, your calendar is wide open so you can get settled in.”

“Okay, great.”

“By the way, do you prefer an electronic calendar, a physical planner, or both?”

“I would prefer a physical planner, if you don’t mind.”

He smiled again. “Your father did, too. Sometimes old school just works better.”

I nodded. Keeping a paper-and-pen calendar wasn’t that unique, yet I clung to that tiny bit of information about John Barrett. I knew so little about him, but I had a feeling that would change quickly now that I was here.

Josh motioned to the window. “Practice starts at ten, so it’ll fill up soon.” He pointed to the biggest desk I’d ever seen. “I ordered you a new laptop and set you up on the team’s management portal. It gives you access to everything you’ll want to know about the team and the individual athletes—stats by player, injuries, medical reports, salary, discipline reports—you name it, there’s a report for it in there.” He motioned to a door on the wall behind the desk. “That leads to a private bathroom. It’s equipped with a shower and a massage room.”

“Massage room?”

“Mr. Barrett often utilized the team’s massage therapists. I can set you up with whatever appointments you’d like.” He walked over to a floor-to-ceiling bookcase. “All of the team’s playbooks are printed out and shelved, as are dossiers on each team member. There are also books on potential recruits the recruiting staff is following and a book on all players within the league whose contracts are up in the next twelve months. Through that door—”

Josh suddenly stopped. My eyes had still been stuck on the dozens of thick books on the many shelves. When they shifted back to his, he smiled. “I’m sorry. This must be a lot to take in, and I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“It’s fine.”

“Why don’t I go grab us both some coffee and give you a few minutes to settle in?”

I exhaled loudly. “That would be great. Thank you, Josh.”

He closed the door behind him, and I stood in the center of the giant space. It was surreal that I was here, not to mention that this was my office. I’d barely gotten to look back over it all when the door burst open and my nightmare of a half-sister walked in.

“Ready to call it quits yet?” Drizella snarked.

Of course, Drizella wasn’t her real name, but that’s how Miller and I referred to my new half-siblings, Drizella and Anastasia—the evil stepsisters from Cinderella.

I plastered on a fake smile. “Good morning, Tiffany.”

She sneered. “This is such a joke. I can’t believe you’re going to attempt to run the team. Have you ever even watched a game?”

I ignored her. “I’m glad you agreed to stay on. Your experience is obviously invaluable.”

“Of course I’m invaluable. Because I know football. Unlike you.”

“Well, I’m hoping I can learn a lot from you.” I smiled sweetly. Over the last two years, since my life had been turned upside down, I’d figured out that the best way to combat Tiffany’s evil was to bludgeon her with kindness and compliments. She only knew how to fight with me. So after a while, if I didn’t take the bait, she’d lose the wind in her sail and float away. And that’s exactly what happened now. She turned and strutted her too-skinny ass back to the door. As she did, the pizza delivery guy passed by. It was the third time I’d noticed him, and it dawned on me that it was a little strange.

“Who gets pizza delivered before eight AM? What place is even open that early?”

Tiffany glanced down the hallway after the guy and turned back with an evil smile. “You want to make yourself useful?”

I assumed it was a rhetorical question, but she waited for an actual response. I sighed. “Of course, Tiffany.”

She pointed down the hall. “That pizza delivery guy has been harassing women. Only last week he made a comment about my ass. As the new leader of this organization, perhaps you can let him know behavior like that will not be tolerated.”

I blinked. “Oh. Wow. That’s terrible.”

“That’s why I’m suggesting you do something about it. Unless you’re too busy…or maybe you don’t care how the women here are treated.”