Chapter 4: Playing Dirty

"Fine, but I'm not wearing a team uniform."

My words to Isolde last night echoed in my head as I stared at my reflection in the office bathroom mirror. The hangover from our tequila-fueled strategy session was brutal, but the memory of agreeing to attend tonight's Warriors game was even worse. My stomach knotted at the thought of seeing Caspian Drake in the flesh after six years of carefully avoiding even his image on TV.

But desperate times called for desperate measures. With Diana's three-day ultimatum hanging over my head, I needed a high-profile client, and a certain quarterback with contract problems might be my only shot.

The sound of Olivia Sterling's designer heels made me want to commit homicide as I returned to my desk. I glared at my screen, surrounded by the graveyard of unanswered emails in my inbox. Each rejection felt like another nail in my career's coffin.

"Still sending cold emails?" Olivia's voice dripped honeyed poison as she perched on my desk, flashing her new Cartier bracelet. "Two days until unemployment. How does that feel, Winters?"

My fingers tightened on my mouse. Six years of dealing with Robert had taught me to smile through the rage. "Don't you have some daddy's-girl ass-kissing to do?"

She laughed, the sound like expensive crystal shattering. "At least I understand how the game is played. Face it - you don't belong here with your Target suits and your pathetic little waitressing gig."

My nails dug crescents into my palms. "Fuck off, Olivia."

The click of heels behind me made my blood freeze.

"Miss Winters." Diana Wright's voice could've frozen hell. "My office. Now."

Shit.

Diana didn't let me apologize before cutting me off with a sharp gesture. "No clients means no billable hours. You have until Friday to bring in a high-value client, or I'll have no choice."

"I'll find someone." The words came out hard, brittle. Like me. "Someone big."

Diana's smile held no warmth. "We'll see."

I barely made it back to my desk before my hands started shaking. My phone buzzed - Isolde's smiling face lit up the screen.

"Please tell me you're not backing out of tonight," she said before I could even say hello. "I already picked up that black dress from the dry cleaners."

"I said I'd go, didn't I?" I sighed, watching Olivia holding court by the coffee machine. "Besides, I need this networking opportunity more than ever. Diana just gave me an ultimatum."

"Perfect! This is destiny," Isolde enthused. "Every corporate exec and trust fund baby in the city will be there. Not to mention one very available quarterback..."

"This is strictly business, Izzy. I need clients, not complications."

"Keep telling yourself that, honey. I'll pick you up at six. And remember, we're going to save your career and maybe get you laid in the process."

"I'm hanging up now."

I ended the call, staring at my reflection in the computer screen. The woman looking back at me wasn't the broken girl from graduation night. She was a fighter. And tonight, she was going hunting.

The Victory Center was all gleaming steel and glass. Isolde led me straight to the VIP elevator, her press pass getting us past security with nothing more than a smile.

"Stop tugging at your dress," she whispered, swatting my hands away. "You look like a million bucks."

"I feel like a fraud."

"That's because you're not drunk enough yet." She pressed a glass of champagne into my hand.

I recognized at least three CEOs from the business section and what looked like half of Sterling Investment's board of directors in the luxury box.

The crowd roared as the teams took the field. My heart stopped when I saw him. Caspian fucking Drake, commanding the field like he was born for it. Six years had turned the boy who'd broken my heart into something dangerous.

"God, he's gorgeous," a woman next to me sighed. "Such a shame about his contract drama. The team's trying to trade him, but without proper representation..."

My head snapped up so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. A high-profile contract dispute. A star quarterback without proper representation. The kind of case that could save my career.

The universe really does have one twisted sense of humor.

The Warriors won by a touchdown. As the crowd filed out, Isolde grabbed my arm.

"Players' lounge. Now." She flashed her press pass. "I can get us in."

I hesitated, but the networking opportunity was too good to pass up. "Lead the way."

I nursed my gin and tonic, watching Isolde work the room.

"Well, well." Victoria Palmer's voice dripped contempt as she draped herself across a nearby couch, her dress more suggestion than substance. "Look who clawed her way up from serving drinks."

I took a long sip of gin. "Actually, I'm here on business."

She laughed like breaking glass. "Of course you are." Her eyes tracked something over my shoulder. "Speaking of business..."

"Sage?"

Goddammit. His voice still had the power to send electricity down my spine. I turned slowly, professional mask locked in place. He looked devastating in his tailored suit, and I hated that I noticed.

"Can we talk?"

"About what, Mr. Drake?" My voice could've frozen vodka. "Your contract situation, perhaps?"

Surprise flickered across his face, followed by something that looked dangerously like hope. "You heard about that?"

"I might be able to help." The words tasted like defeat in my mouth. "If you're interested in legal representation."

Victoria's laugh shattered the moment. "Oh, this is precious. The scholarship girl thinks she can play with the big boys."

Caspian's jaw tightened. "Victoria—"

"No, she's right." I smiled with all my teeth. "I am playing with the big boys. And sweetheart? When I play, I play to win."

I walked away on my borrowed Louboutins. But as I reached the exit, Victoria caught my wrist, her nails digging into my skin.

"You have no idea what you're getting into," she hissed. "Do you really think he wants you as his lawyer? That's adorable. He's desperate, and you're convenient – a quick fuck then, a quick fix now."

I jerked away from her. "Stay away from me."

Her smile was vicious. "My father owns the Warriors. One word from me, and any contract Caspian signs with you becomes toxic. So ask yourself what's really going on here – is this about legal representation, or is he just looking for another bet to win?"