Page 17 of Second Chance with the Enemy CEO
The media team begins the presentation, showcasing pictures taken by each photographer. Mine comes up alongside the others, and there are murmurs of approval around the room.
Ah, music to my ears.
After that, we discussed the job description. The photographers will shadow the team, which Liam is a part of, and scratch that, the star of, during practices, games, and events. More and more talk. Yada, yada, yada.
Great. More encounters,I mutter under my breath.
“Do you have something to say, Miss McKee?” Liam’s voice cuts through the room.
I blink. “Excuse me?”
He leans forward slightly, his gaze pinning me to my seat. “I said, do you have something to say? You seem to have an opinion that you are muttering under your breath. Care to share it with the room?”
The room goes silent, all eyes darting between us.
I hold his gaze. “Since when has muttering become a crime?”
“Since it’s about my company,” he replies, his tone like ice.
I smile sweetly. “Well, I was not aware I needed a permit to breathe in here. Should I bow down, too?”
The room collectively gasps. Liam’s jaw tightens, his knuckles white as he grips the edge of the table.
Before he can respond, one of the media team members awkwardly clears their throat, breaking the tension. The briefing continues, though the energy in the room remains thick.
After what feels like an eternity and Liam silently throwing daggers at me, the meeting finally ends. I say goodbye to Brooke, Lydia, and Landon, then make a beeline for my rental car. Once inside, I sit back and take a deep breath.
“What the hell,” I mutter, resting my head on the steering wheel.
Why his company, of all companies? Why his team, of all teams? And why - why, why - was he looking that handsome?
My mind flashes back to the sharp cut of his suit, the way his hair - thicker and darker than I remembered - curled slightly at the nape of his neck.
I groan, shaking my head. No. Absolutely not. Liam Callahan does not get to occupy space in my mind like this, not after everything.
But then his words echo back to me, his cold, biting tone cutting through my mental defenses. "Uninvited and unwanted humans."
Uninvited? Sure, whatever. But unwanted? That stings more than I want to admit, even to myself.
No, Hazel. No. You do not allow that. You do not give him that space or chance to hurt you with his words or actions.
After a few steadying breaths, I start the car. It is time to visit some friends and distract myself from this whirlwind of a day.
Fate sure has a twisted sense of humor.
Pulling into Grace’s driveway after a 20-minute drive, I take a moment to soak in the view. Her house looks exactly as I remember it - cozy and inviting, with a porch swing gently swaying in the breeze and adorned in fall decorations - pumpkins, hay bales, and a wreath made of orange and gold leaves. Warm light spills from the windows and the faint sound of laughter reaches me even from the car.
I grab my bag and step out, the cool evening air nipping at my skin. The second I ring the doorbell, I hear a shout from inside…
“Pizza is here…! Luke or Grace, bring the money out…, and maybe, just maybe see if the delivery guy is a hot one…”
I smile to myself, shaking my head. Typical Maya.
The door swings open, and there she is in all her radiant glory, Maya Bennett. The excitement in her big brown eyes shines so bright it can act like a torch in the dark. Her caramel-toned skinglows under the porch light, her glossy black curls framing her face perfectly. She is wearing an oversized gray sweater paired with ripped jeans, effortlessly chic, and simple. Her bright red signature glossy lipstick catches the light as she stares at me.
“You…! You're not the pizza guy… You are,” her jaw drops in dramatic fashion. “As I live and breathe! What on earth - Hazel?” She breathes, her brown eyes widening.
“In the flesh. Uh, surprise!” I say, throwing my hands up in a half-hearted ta-da gesture.
