Page 93 of The Wingman

A protective urge rattles through me. The idea of them together makes my blood boil. “Let it fucking go, Volkov.”

“I don’t think I will.” The corner of his mouth slides up, but his smile isn’t friendly; it’s knowing and smug, and for the first time, I want to fucking hit him. “What,you don’t trust me?” His tone is light, almost playful, but there’s something sharp in his eyes.

“She’ll never go for it.”

She’s not interested in Volkov. She would have said something before now.

Right?

He shoots me an arrogant look. “Why don’t we let her decide?”

CHAPTER 44

DARCY

A few days later,I’m on my way to Georgia’s office at the arena when I hear my name behind me.

“Hi, Darcy.” Coach Tate Ward strides at a leisurely pace to catch up to me. He gives me a friendly smile, his eyes crinkling.

“Hi.” I blink at him, ready for him to keep passing, but he stops and continues to give me a look I sense is meant to make me feel comfortable.

“Do you have a moment?”

I peer down the hall to where Georgia’s office is. I’m a few minutes early. “Yes?”

How does he even know who I am?

“Good.” He gestures for me to follow him back the way he came. “Let’s chat in my office.” At my hesitant expression, he grins. “It won’t take long. Dr. Greene mentioned you’re going for lunch, so I won’t keep you.”

My mind flashes to the games this week and how the power play suggestions I made are working for them. They weren’t supposed to say it wasmysuggestion. Who the fuck am I? Just some random girl goofing around on her computer. And now Ward is about to put me in my place.

A cold knot of worry forms in my stomach as I follow him like I’m going to the principal’s office.

It’s going to be like getting fired all over again. I can’t go to games and sit in the front row after this.

He holds the glass door to his office open and waves me inside. “You’re an analyst for Eckhart-Foster, right?”

“Yep.” I take a seat at one of the club chairs across from his desk, heart starting to pound.

“And a degree in statistics from the University of British Columbia.” He sits and regards me with a thoughtful expression. On his desk, there’s a framed photo of a little girl with a big smile and pigtails sticking out the sides of her head. “Dean’s list.”

I swallow hard. How does he know all this? Is he going to sue me or something? “You did your research.”

His eyes warm. “That makes two of us. Tell me more about these analytical models.”

The best policy is to be as upfront as possible, I think. “They’re just for fun, and I told that to the guys. It’s all public information from the league’s website and data from games. Nothing proprietary. I’m not making a profit off it or selling it or sharing it with anyone else.” My face burns, and I want to sink into the floor. “It was never meant to be used. It’s just something I tinker with on my laptop. I like using historical data to see if I can predict the future. I never meant for anyone to find out. I told them it hasn’t been checked.”

Ward’s silent as he waits for me to finish.

“I’m really sorry,” I add, pulling my gaze to my hands in my lap.

“Why?”

“Because I’m no expert, yet I’m messing around with people’s lives and I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.”

He frowns with concern. “It sounds like youdoknow what you’re doing. It sounds like youarean expert.”

Is this a joke? We stare at each other, him with a strange expression I can’t read, his mouth tipping up into an amused smile.

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