Page 9 of The Worst Pucking Deal

While I might be okay with bending the rules and morals of the world, there are certain things that are black and white. I don’t fuck anyone who isn’t single. Even though I’ve never been in a relationship, I know in my bones that I’d never cheat. Just the thought of being accused of ruining that guy’s marriage has me vibrating with anger again.

Fuck.

I’m not a bleeding heart hiding insecurities from being cheated on in the past. But I saw what it did to my dad when my mom cheated on him time and time again. In the end, he couldn’t cope and ran away like a coward. Leaving his dignity and me, his only son, behind. I still remember his last words to me.

“Don’t do it, son. Don’t ever let a bitch tie you to her because you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

Words I fucking live by.

I don’t need to be in a relationship to know it’s not for me. I won’t ever allow myself to become that weak, so dependent on another person. Which is also why I don’t date.

“Sawyer.” It’s not until Maggie, my treacherous agent, speaks I realize I’m now standing. “Don’t give me that look,” she warns, using her business tone.

“What?” I ask, incredulous. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my fucking side?”

She shrugs and crosses one leg over the other, not bothering to stand. “I am on your side, Sawyer. I happen to think this is a good move. You’ve already lost two endorsements. Is it really worth risking the last ones over your pride?” Smiling widely, she continues. “Besides, this is the best offer. Some of the sponsors claimed they wouldn’t be happy unless you got married. But Tom talked them down. This is a lot less drastic and by far the better deal.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. This is about so much more than pride. How about the fact I’m a grown man who makes both my agent and GM ungodly amounts of money? That should fucking count for something.

“Why?” I ask, probably focusing on the wrong thing. “He dropped the charges, and I’ve agreed to go to anger management sessions. You’ve already gotten your pound of flesh.”

Tom sighs, and it’s one of those soul-deep sounds that makes it clear I better fucking listen. “Sit down.” Sensing that now isn’t the time to fight back, I do as he says, waiting while he does the same. “Normally, I wouldn’t tell you what I’m about to share. But given how hard you’re fighting this, you don’t give me much choice.”

He looks over at Maggie. Since I daren’t take my eyes off the GM, I don’t turn to see if she moves, though I feel her lean closer. “Go ahead,” she says, making it abundantly fucking clear she already knows what I don’t.

“Some of our sponsors are threatening to walk,” Tom starts. I open my mouth to tell him just how little that matters to me, but he silences me with a glare. “I can only imagine your opinion is something like a lack of concern, which is your prerogative, one that I don’t share. The Sabertooths are a family, Sawyer. One that your immature and selfish actions are threatening to tear apart. I can’t have that. If you refuse to follow the recommendation from the PR team, I will bench you and trade you the first opportunity I get. Do you know what that would mean?”

I grit my teeth, determined not to make the situation worse by suggesting where the fucking sponsors can go. The Sabertooths are my family, too, and Minneapolis is my home. I’m not willing to lose it all. “I didn’t fucking start it. It wasn’t me tracking his ass down and throwing accusations just because he can’t keep his wife satisfied. But I get it,” I say. Then I swallow, my pride going down with an audible sound. “Look, I’m sorry, Tom. I’ll do whatever you want me to do.” I don’t add that I’m not happy about it since I’m pretty sure my face says that all on its own.

“What’s the length of this deal?” Maggie asks, though I’m pretty sure Tom already mentioned that.

“The rest of the season,” the GM says without missing a beat. “And I want her to attend events with you. You also need to go on dates together. I don’t want this blowing up in our faces, which means the public has to believe it.”

I pull at the tie that suddenly feels too tight around my throat. Fucking monkey suit. If it wasn’t because I’ve been forced to spend the day with the lawyers and now Tom, I’d be down in the rink, smelling the ice and skating across it with my teammates. Instead, I’m in a fucking suit listening to people calling my behavior erratic, out of control, and other shit. They aren’t wrong, but it’s not until Tom just threatened my career and my home that I’ve really taken it to heart.

“I can do that,” I say, knowing it’s pointless to fight it.

“We should at least know who the candidates are,” Maggie says. When I shake my head, she argues, “Sawyer, you need to make sure it’s someone you want to spend time with.”

And this is exactly why it doesn’t matter. “No, I don’t,” I retort. “This isn’t about who they are as a person. It’s a job.” Standing up, I hold my hand out to Tom. “I’ll fake date whoever you want me to, and I’ll make it believable. But when the season is over, you better have a good reason for the breakup, one that doesn’t make me the asshole.”

He gets to his feet and takes my outstretched hand, clasping it harder than needed. “You have my word, Sawyer. I don’t enjoy doing this to you, but you’ve left me no choice. Keep up your end of the bargain, and I’ll make sure the breakup favors you.”

Even though I know what’s coming next, I’m still dumbstruck by the sheer amount of papers he wants me to sign. But I do it. I sign my name on almost every dotted line he puts in front of me. The one that makes me pause and peer up at my GM is the NDA warning me not to disclose the agreement to anyone.

“I’m not signing that,” I say brusquely.

“Sawyer,” Tom sighs. “The entire point is to make it seem legit. How can we do that if you can share the information with anyone you want to?”

Though I get his point, I shake my head. “I’m not signing that,” I repeat. “What if I need help from one of my teammates? As you’ve just spent the afternoon pointing out, I’m not used to relationships. And if you want it to seem like we’ve been hiding our relationship from the public, not all my teammates can be surprised.”

“He makes a good point,” Maggie says. “Amend the NDA, Tom. He can tell Mickey and Soren. But that’s it.” When the GM opens his mouth to argue, she forges on. “If they don’t know, what’s going to stop them from making it seem weird? Unknowingly discredit the entire thing?”

“Fine,” Tom huffs, relenting after a few moments. Then he calls someone and tells them to make the necessary corrections to the NDA and bring him the updated contract.

We don’t talk while waiting for the legal wiz to join us. I don’t know what the fuck’s going through Tom’s or Maggie’s heads, but I’m wondering how the fuck I tell this to the guys. It’s not exactly a normal conversation to have.

A knock sounds at the door, and Tom goes to open it, taking the printed paper from the poor guy who just had to haul ass to get here in barely any time at all.

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