Page 1 of Never In My Wildest Dreams

ChapterOne

TWO YEARS AND SEVEN MONTHS AGO

Booker Hayes leftthe morning meeting with a playful shove, a few slaps on the back, and a chorus of approval from his colleagues.

“Fuck yeah, man.”

“You’re taking me out to dinner with this year’s bonus.”

“How do you score a deal this bigandbe so damn handsome, ya fucker?”

He smiled and headed straight for his office. He had to call his client and let him know about the deal he’d negotiated for him.

He’s not going to believe it when he hears the final number.

Closing the door behind him, he pulled out his phone, but his thumb didn’t push the Call button.

Because he had a predicament. While it was his job to represent his clients in business, legal, and PR matters, he was also a man. With a conscience. And his gut told him this deal might not be in Ginty’s best interests.

So, you present it and hope he doesn’t ask for advice.

Without a doubt, Ginty’ll be blown away. At thirty-two, the hockey player was at the top of his game. Not many had the endurance to play eighty-two games a season and most got sidelined with injuries. Over time, small ones compounded and became major ones. Ginty’d been lucky.

Of course, he expected a good deal. Just not the one Booker got him. It had taken a few months of negotiations, but in the end, he’d knocked it out of the park.

Telling him about it was the easy part. But he knew his client. Ginty would ask his opinion—that was the kind of relationship they had.

His advice, though, would go against the best interests of the agency.

Conflicted, he strode to the window and gazed twenty-two stories below at the rush of traffic on Fifth Avenue.

The door flew open.

He didn’t even have to look to see who’d barged in. Only his boss wouldn’t knock.

Slowly, Booker turned. He dreaded the steely-eyed look he’d see, the singular focus. Marcus was a legendary sports agent. Feared by owners, coaches, PR teams, and marketing managers, he’d scored the highest deals in the history of sports management, and he cultivated that spirit in his firm. It was the reason they were the biggest in the industry, with billions in revenue.

Booker was just as driven—which was why he’d gotten the coveted job straight out of law school—and he loved it. He thrived on negotiating the best outcomes for his clients.

Morning sunlight glinted on his boss’s hundred-thousand-dollar watch, a gift from a Hall-of-Famer quarterback. “You make the call?”

“Not yet.”

His boss tensed. “Is there a problem? You got him ninety million over five years. Highest cap hit in the league.”

Booker gave a curt nod. “No trade, and no movement.”

“Issues?”

“None we can’t overcome.” Booker’s stomach twisted.

“Then, why haven’t you made the call?” His boss held his gaze, firm, steady—and lethal.

But Booker wasn’t intimidated. Because he knew Marcus’s other side. Countless times, he’d taken Booker out to dinner and invited him into his home. The man was more than a mentor. He was like a father to him.

So, talk to him. Tell him. “You remember Ginty’s first year at Boston College? When his brothers moved into his house and smoked pot all the time?”

Marcus stood still as a boulder, his expression and every muscle drawn tight as a drum.

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