Wheeler (Seattle Sharks 8)

My shoulders sagged a bit where I sat. I didn’t want to admit that a part of me expected her to laugh in my face. I knew she’d taken the meeting because of my brother—Eric Gentry—and who he was to the Sharks, but her words were comforting.

“Do you need anything, Ms. Pierce?” A pretty brunette asked from the open doorway. Her black slacks were trimmed in a dark purple at the hem, the same shade that streaked through the back of her hair.

Langley glanced at me. “Coffee?”

I nodded, eagerly.

“Two please, Erin,” Langley said, and Erin spun on her heels. She was gone and back before I had a chance to gather my words.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the glorious cup, drinking a quick sip to give my overeager brain time to think.

I was only in my second year at U-Dub—where I’d decided to finish my degree once I’d realized what I wanted to do with my life. Eric had a great deal to do with it, but he didn’t know my full aspirations, not yet. He was always supportive, but he still saw me as that little girl he had to babysit when we were young. I wanted to stand on my own, make something from the ground up, and Langley was the best sports PR rep this side of the US. Who better to ask for advice?

“How long until you graduate?” Langley asked, leaning back in her chair and propping her feet up on her desk, the red soles of her black pumps clicking against the wood. I’d always admired Langley’s ability to wrangle the Sharks, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to be like her. She exuded confidence and this fierce attitude when it came to handling hectic situations—something that was always expected with celebrity athletes.

“After the summer it’ll be my final year.”

“And you’re majoring in business and marketing, right?” She furrowed her brow like she was recalling a past conversation with my big brother.

I nodded. “Yes.”

I could see the gears turning behind her brown eyes, and my adrenaline spiked from the thought of working alongside her, learning from her years of expertise. If anyone could understand my aspirations, it was her. She’d started around my age and had excelled to the nth degree in rapid time. Hell, she was only a handful of years older than me—closer to my brother’s age.

“I’m not asking for handouts,” I clarified, just in case she felt obligated because of my brother’s connection to her. “I need advice. How to secure funding, credibility, and clients.”

She grinned. “I daresay your brother would be happy to give you a glowing review after using some of the concierge services you plan to provide.”

“I’m certain he would,” I said. “But I haven’t gotten that far yet. I have a solid business model and list of services, but what I’m lacking beyond funding is—”

“Experience,” she cut me off.

I sighed. “Yes. I have no firsthand experience with servicing a client.”

My cheeks flushed, and Langley bit back a chuckle.

“I mean,” I hurried on. “I…oh, god, you know what I meant.”

“I do,” she said, a bit of laughter in her tone. “I will tell you this; the job is ninety percent handling the clients. Marketing them, yes, but ensuring they uphold the image you’ve worked tirelessly to portray to the public is more than half the battle. But, they’re human—fallible, primal, and more than likely able to change their mind about as many times as you can blink. The second you think you have them pegged…” she snapped her fingers. “They want to change their image.” She smirked. “Though, the fast-paced, never-know-what-is-next feeling is the main reason I love this job.”

“I’m drawn to it too,” I said. “Hence, why I legit begged for an hour of your time.”

She waved me off. “No begging necessary, Faith. You know that you’re always welcome here. And I’ll always be straight with you.” She arched a brow at me. “You may not always like my answer, but at least you know I’ll be honest.”

That’s exactly what I needed. I knew that. Because to make it in this business? I had to be sharp, fierce, strong…as much as or more so than the clients I hoped to represent. I knew from my brother’s experience, and his teammates, the repercussions of bad publicity, and I had the advantage of seeing the other side of it. The human side—where a family and friends and legacy rested behind all the hype. Because of that knowledge, I felt I had something special to offer anyone who I hoped would come to me for my services when I was up and running.

But, I had to get there first.

“This career isn’t always pretty,” Langley continued. “You wake up each day never knowing what will be thrown at you. And there are some people out there who throw some really ugly shit.”

I chuckled at her brashness.

“It’s not all booking galas and press conferences,” she said. “It’s about taking care of the client, shaping their brand, fueling their ambitions no matter how far-fetched they may seem.”

“I know,” I said, nodding. “I’ve seen it.”

“And you’re still in?”

“Definitely.”

She smiled, satisfied with my answer. “I think I have the perfect job for you.”

My eyebrows raised as I perched on the edge of my seat.

“A client has a product launch in Sweden he’s been hounding me about day and night. And he has countless modeling gigs, foreign endorsements, and appearances in the offseason. He recently fired his last personal assistant, and he needs a new one, someone who can help him on a twenty-four-hour basis in addition to what I can do for him. Someone who can be there for him, day or night, to help keep him balanced in the chaos of his schedule. Do it well, and the income you’d earn for it would be a good chunk of funding for your business.”

“That sounds perfect,” I said, eager to get started right this second. Serving as a PA to a high-profile athlete during the busiest part of his marketing season would be an invaluable experience. Especially if I did it well enough that he’d give me a good review by the end of it. “Who is the client?”

“Lukas Vestergaard.”

She may as well have said “sex incarnate” for the way heat rushed over my skin. I sank back in my chair, the air rushing out of me.

Hungry lips.

Swift tongue.

Nimble fingers that sparked everything I never knew I needed as they grazed over my skin.

My heart raced, the memories from the masquerade ball fueling the fire in my blood. I’d been so broken-hearted…so angry at my ex for cheating. And Lukas…God, I’d never expected the man to get under my skin so much. For him to sink so deep inside me that I craved him like a drug. It had been an effort to push the memory from my mind. To stop the flashes, the X-rated dreams, the need to finish what we’d started.

“Something wrong?” Langley asked, drawing me from my thoughts. “You know Lukas fairly well right?”

“What? No. Of course not.” I blinked a few times, taking a steadying breath.

“He’s Eric’s best friend, I just assumed…” Langley tilted her head, her keen eyes searching mine.

“Right. He is.” I shook my head. “I know him. Just…not as well as Eric does.”

Okay, good professional recovery there. Get it together! This opportunity was too good to pass up simply because the man had delivered one world-shattering make-out session. This was my future we were discussing. I could do this.

“Do you think it would be a conflict of interest?” I asked. “Working for him when he’s so close to my brother?”

“Not at all,” she said. “It’s common with celebrities to hire people in the family or friends circle. People they can count on and trust.”

“That makes sense,” I said, though I sounded anything but certain.

“Unfortunately,” she said, clicking some keys on her computer and gazing at the screen. “He already had me send a call out for PA applications. The interviews

are tomorrow at noon. I can send you the information. I’m sure he’ll go through the other interviews as a courtesy and simply hire you. Especially after the recommendation I’ll give him.”

The way she said the last part sounded more like she’d be issuing an order.

But she didn’t know what happened between us. She didn’t know that he’d had me in his arms, at his mercy, and he’d stopped us.

I stood, and she followed me to the door. “Thank you for everything, Langley.”

“Anytime,” she said, holding the door open for me. “I’ll be excited to work with you.”

I chuckled nervously. “He’ll have to select me first.”

“You’re his best friend’s little sister,” she said, and though it was supposed to be a statement, it kind of felt like a damning title. “He’d be crazy not to select you.”

“Right,” I said, dredging up a smile. I don’t know why the comment stung; she hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true. I was Eric Gentry’s little sister. They were best friends. Teammates. Hell, he was practically family when I thought about the rest of the team, too. “I’ll talk to you soon,” I said in way of a goodbye and headed back to my car.

After a twenty-minute drive, I fell heavily on my couch in the townhome I shared with my two roommates.

“Did it go poorly?” Harper asked as she came around the corner, a box of cereal in her hand. She sank next to me, offering me the box.

I grabbed a handful and shoved it into my mouth, the crunching temporarily drowning out the sound of Lukas’s breath in my ear from echoing in my mind.

“It went perfect,” I said. “The job of a lifetime awaits.”

Harper squealed, nearly dumping the contents of the box all over the couch before she tilted her head. “Wait,” she said. “Why are you pouting then?”

“I can’t do the interview.”

“Why?”

“It’s for a personal assistant job for Lukas Vestergaard.”

Her mouth dropped. “Shut. Up.”

“Exactly.” She knew all about the kiss. Harper and I had become instant best friends the moment we reached for the same mint coffee creamer in the campus cafeteria. It didn’t matter that she was an uber-genius—like literally, she’d been in college since she was sixteen-years old and was currently working on her doctorate—we had simply clicked.