The Game by Vi Keeland by Vi Keeland

Christian smirked. “Maybe the entire world knows something you don’t, and you should reconsider...”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “God, that woman hated me already.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you were never going to be doing each other’s hair and having sleepovers where you stay up late talkin’ about boys.”

I sighed. “I was never one of those anyway. I spent my Friday nights in high school trying to disprove Noether’s theorem.”

“Another theorem?”

“Noether’s theorem, as in Emmy Noether. The German mathematician who proved differentiable symmetry.”

Christian’s brows drew inward. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because I’m a geek, Christian, or haven’t you noticed?”

His gaze dropped to my lips, and he took his time making his way back up to meet my eyes. “Hadn’t noticed.”

Oh my. Another flutter moved through my belly, this one lower than the last.

I had no retort. In fact, I was pretty sure all of my words were stuck somewhere behind the swarm of butterflies blocking passage from my belly. Sitting up straight, I cleared my throat. “Why don’t we get started talking about the team?”



***



“I can’t believe it’s almost eleven o’clock.” I leaned back in my chair and stretched my arms over my head. Christian and I had been working on tweaks to my algorithm, based on human factors related to the players, for close to five hours.

“I think I’m going to have to put in for overtime with the boss.”

I smiled. “It would be well worth it. You’re a wealth of knowledge, Christian Knox. I’m excited to make the changes and see how my performance predictions come out for this week’s game.”

“There are still a lot of variables. You have the stats of the opposing team, but you don’t know what’s going on with their people.”

“True. Think you could buddy up to the Colorado captain and get their team’s dirt?”

Christian laughed. “I’m sure he’d be open to sharing who’s having an off week with me.”

I closed my notebook. “I really appreciate you taking the time to help me.”

“My pleasure. By the way, how was your call with Bozo today? Did he ask you out on another date?”

“If you mean Julian, I didn’t call him back yet. The day flew by with back-to-back meetings.”

Christian flashed a gloating smile. “Uh-huh.”

I squinted. “Don’t read into it. I was very busy.”

“Not reading into it. Just looking at the facts.”

“What facts?”

He shrugged. “No time to call Bozo. Spent the last five hours with me.”

“This is work-related.”

His smile grew more smug, if that were even possible. “Sure.”

I had a page of notes on the table. I wrinkled them into a ball and chucked it at his face.

Of course, he caught it. “Maybe I’ll keep these, so I have to come back again.”

I tapped my finger to my temple. “Not necessary. They’re all up here already.”

Christian chuckled. “I have an MRI early tomorrow before the team meeting, so I’m going to head home. I want to put my leg up to bring down any swelling—I need my knee to be perfect so they’ll finally clear me to play. You want a ride?”

“I think I’m going to stick around for a while and go through the binders—see if I might’ve missed the one Tiffany is looking for. If I find it, it might work as a peace offering.”

Christian shook his head. “Don’t count on it. She’s a grudge holder.”

He was right, of course, but I still wanted to do my best to be helpful. Whether it was appreciated or not. “It’s okay. I’ll still look.”

“I can wait or even help you try to find it?”

“Thanks, but I’m good.”

Christian looked disappointed, but he nodded. “How will you get home?”

“It’s late, so I think I’ll take one of those fancy car services you told me was the preferred mode of transportation for billionairesses.”

He smiled. “Good. I’ll see you on the plane tomorrow evening?”

I nodded. “You will. And thanks again, Christian.”

I walked over to my desk and opened the top drawer to stick my laptop in. I’d made a habit of keeping it there. But when I closed it, the stuck drawer underneath caught my attention.

“Hey, Christian?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind seeing if you can pull open the bottom drawer of my desk? I’ve tried a few times, and it’s stuck.”

“You sure it doesn’t have a key?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. There’s no lock.”

Christian came behind the desk and gave the drawer a yank. It didn’t budge. He knelt down and felt the bottom and around the sides, then peered into the gap at the top. “I don’t see a lock. You sure you want me to get it open? The door might come off.”

“Either way, I’ll have to get it fixed. But if you’re able to open it, I’d like to see whether the binder Tiffany is looking for might be in there.”