Page 131 of King of Pain
She laughs, shaking her head. “You realize you’re already dating him, right? Or more accurately—he’s dating you. He’s just using theI have to go over sponsorshipsloophole.”
I lift my head and gape at her. “Meg, I would never—”
She holds up a hand, cutting me off. “Anthony. I told you. If there was something there, we’d shift him to another agent. But this isn’t about policy, is it?”
I shake my head. “No, it isn’t. Seems there’s no room in my head or heart.”
Meg tilts her head slightly, studying me. “There’s a story there. We’re going for drinks. Soon. And you’re not allowed to hold back.”
I let out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, okay.”
She checks her phone, then stands. “Alright, get out of here. I’m off to the airport. I’ll be in Atlanta for the next ten days working on landing a tight end. Oh, and I’ll be trying to sign a client while I’m there too.” She winks.
I laugh, shaking my head. “At least someone’s getting some dick around here.”
Meg’s loud cackle echoes through the office as she heads next door, and I shake my head, grinning to myself.
I shut my laptop with a satisfied sigh, stretching my arms over my head and look around my office space.
My own office. Seems silly, but it provided a boost of confidence I needed at the time.
When Meg moved me into the space next to hers, she made it clear—this wasn’t just a promotion. It was a statement. I wasn’t her assistant anymore. I was an Agent underhernow. And I worked damn hard to earn it.
I gather my things, sliding my laptop into my bag. Meg appears in my doorway again, knocking lightly. “You wrapping up?”
I nod, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “Just heading out.”
She falls into step beside me as we walk toward the elevators. “Like I said, I’ll be out for the next ten days, but you’ve got everything under control, right?”
“I’ve got the three client contract renewals handled, and I already confirmed the sponsor meeting for Maya next week,” I assure her.
Meg nods approvingly. “Knew I didn’t have to worry. You’re a damn powerhouse, Pacini.”
We step onto the elevator, making idle conversation as it descends to the parking garage. The doors slide open, and we step out, walking toward our cars—until I stop abruptly.
Leaning casually against my car, long legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded over his chest, is Chance.
He’s wearingobscenely tightjeans and an eventighterblack t-shirt, exuding confidence and infuriating sex appeal.
Meg stops beside me, glancing at my face before following my gaze. “What are you—” she starts, then cuts herself off. A beat of silence, then—
“Oh. Ohmigod.Isthatwhat’s taking up the space in your head and heart?”
I sigh, rubbing my temple. “Yep.”
“Oh, dear,” she whispers ominously.
“Oh, dear what?”
“You’re fucked.”
I groan and she lets out a slow whistle. “Fuck me sideways. No wonder Jason couldn’t get anywhere with you.”
Chance aims a blinding smile at me, clearly enjoying himself. He can’t hear us, but I’m sure he’s filling in the blanks.
Meg looks him up and down, shaking her head. “Is he even real? I mean, look at him.”
“Don’t remind me,” I mutter.
