Playing Pretend by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

Ten

Liam

“Another Macallan, sir?”

At the server’s voice, I tear my eyes from the screen of my phone to peer at the empty glass seated on the table by my elbow.

“No. I’m good,” I mumble. “Thanks.”

The man gives me a curt bow—like I’m a fucking king or something—then he hurriedly scampers away.

My attention moves to the expansive window overlooking the football field. The game ended a few minutes ago. The players from both teams have exited the field. Lingering Paragons fans revel in the stands, celebrating the team’s second hometown victory of the season. Or maybe it’s the third. It’s all the same to me at this point.

I’m by myself, sitting here in one of the arena’s nondescript high-rise skyboxes, thumbing aimlessly through my phone.

Usually, I’d enjoy the game from the comfort of the Kline-Simmons luxury suite. Football games are an ideal time to catch up with my company executives or schmooze with potential business partners. But today, I didn’t feel like mingling. I just couldn’t get myself into the mood. So I retreated to the solitude of this smaller, secluded space to watch the damn game in peace.

Watch the game…Pfft.

My eyes have barely flicked to the field this whole time. I’ve spent the past hour reading and re-reading the notes Eliza emailed to me the night we explored the Strip together. She made some keen observations, I’ve got to admit. The ideas she came up with were far above her pay grade.

And I rewarded her by unceremoniously chucking her into the unemployment line.

Smart move, bro.

Here we go again with the self-reproach.

It’s been two weeks since I fired her. Shouldn’t I be done thinking about her by now?

Instead, every chance I get, I keep giving myself shit about the decisions I made that night. Wishing I’d handled things differently.

Feeling guilty over this makes no sense. Kline-Simmons is my company. I built it from the ground up and if I feel that an employee is no longer a good fit for the organization, I’m well within my right to dismiss them.

Except I know that Eliza’s dismissal had nothing to do with her work performance. And everything to do with how much I wanted a performance from her outside of the office. In my bedroom, to be specific.

I’m a pig. It’s disgraceful.

I’m fucking ashamed to even admit it to myself.

Flicking back the sleeve of my navy blue suit jacket, I check the time on my watch. Determined to shrug off this misplaced and unfamiliar attack of conscience, I rise out of my seat and move toward the exit.

With my head down to avoid having to make conversation with any familiar faces in the stadium’s private hallways, I take the elevator down to the Paragons’s locker room.

I’m smacked by the ruckus post-victory atmosphere pouring through the team’s lounge.

Before I’ve got a foot inside the room, Jason Bellino grabs me with a sweaty arm and tries to tug me into a headlock. “The boss is in the building!” he announces in a roar that grabs his teammates’s attention. “The boss is in the building!”

Hooting and cheering go up around the room. I give Jace a solid jab in the ribs to get off of me.

He’s one of my closest friends in the world. That’s the only reason he’d even attempt that shit. But physical contact is not a good idea tonight. With the way I feel at the moment, I can’t guarantee I won’t blank out and accidentally Hulk-smash him in the face.

“I see that tonight’s win has got you in a good mood,” I remark, adjusting the cuffs of my sleeves.

“Of course I’m in a good mood, brother.” He shrugs, all cockiness and nonchalance. “I’m the first-string defensive safety on the best team in the league. I’ve won the heart of the sweetest girl in town. I’m a happy guy.”

“We’ll see how that goes,” I grumble under my breath. Jason’s face falls.

Knox O’Ryan, the team’s star running back, comes to his friend’s defence. “Well damn, Mr. Doom and Gloom. Maybe Jason’s in love.”

I snort. “And it’s bound to bite him in the ass sooner or later.”

Jace stomps off to his locker, all defensive. “Somebody remind me again why I’m friends with that asshole.”

Laughing under my breath, I move to stand next to Coach Robinson in the center of the room. The guys huddle around us. The coach gives his usual post-game spiel. Then I utter some lackluster pep talk bullshit because as owner of the team, that’s what’s expected of me. But the players are too high off of their win to notice that my enthusiasm is running on fumes. Before long, I’m headed for the door.

Maxwell Masters, the team captain and veteran quarterback, calls out to me. “Kline—everybody’s coming over to my place to celebrate tonight. Faith’s making her famous onion dip.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “You in?”

I turn up my nose at the offer. “You sure you want to add onion to the body odor stench swimming around these guys in this locker room?”

Jude Kingston, our tight end, snorts from where he’s seated on a bench, pulling off his cleats. “Five minutes in the showers and we’ll all be waltzing out of here smelling like lilies and meadows…and victorrrry!”

Another triumphant roar tears through the room as high-fives and fist-pumps get passed around.

“Yeah, baby!”

“Paragons, yes!”

“Woot! Woot! Woot!”

My ears are ringing.

Yo. I do not have the energetic capacity for this shit tonight. “Sorry, fellas. I’ll pass.”

“Oh, come on!” Maxwell whines after me.

Maxwell’s wife, Faith, is a sweetheart and bless her heart for willingly hosting these hooligans after each and every one of the team’s home games. Plus, her onion dip is pretty good stuff. But I’m not on that wavelength right now.

“Maybe next time,” I say flatly.

I stroll out of the locker room and Jace jogs to catch up with me. So damn clingy, these guys.

“You okay, man?” His big hand claps my shoulder. “You seem…off tonight. What’s going on?”

Jace knows me well enough to tell the difference between my usual crabby mood and when something is actually wrong with me.

How am I supposed to tell him that I’m sulking because, in my supremely fucked up mind, firing my gorgeous assistant now ranks as one of the most regrettable business decisions of my career?

I mean, it was only a few weeks ago at poker night that I was giving Jace shit for doing the unthinkable with Sera, our buddy Wyatt’s little sister, after her wedding got called off. Now, here I am with my ballsack all in a knot for a woman who’s equally off-limits. I’m a fucking hypocrite.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Jace questions again with a furrowed brow.

I throw him a sidelong glimpse where he’s strolling alongside me. “I’m sure, Dr. Phil.”

“Okay, well if you change your mind, just give me a shout.”

“Got it.” I salute him mockingly.

“All right.” He grins widely when he checks his buzzing phone. “Gotta go. Sera’s calling. She probably wants to know if we’re going to Faith and Maxwell’s tonight.” He starts backtracking toward the locker room. He smirks at me. “Word of advice—don’t let your bad attitude get you junk-punched tonight.”

“Fuck off, you goblin.” I call after him as he disappears into the changing room.

I leave the stadium in a funk, unable to alleviate my disgruntlement. I drive across town with no particular destination in mind. I find myself parking a few blocks away from the Strip.

I wander along the busy street as weighty clouds gather in the sky. I’m trying to recapture the magic that twinkled in the air the night I was here with Eliza. But tonight, there’s no magic.

Everything is too loud, too bright, too much.

Irritated and in need of a good burger, I duck into the Cathedral Pub and head for the booth I was seated in the last time I was here. But someone is already occupying the table.

At the sight of her, my cock stirs. A bucket of lust pours straight into my groin.

Eliza.