Page 44 of Worth the Scandal
The room’s buzzing. There’s a fresh Ridgebacks banner hanging behind the stage, and at least two dozen local reporters in branded polos are circling the perimeter like football-obsessed vultures ready to snap their next big meal ticket. The media turnout is bigger than expected. Hell, there’s even a small live-streaming crew from a regional sports network.
Shell stands next to me, clutching an iPad like her life depends on it. “I swear, if you faint during your speech, I’m not CPR certified.”
I glance sideways. “Good. I’d rather die looking hot than be revived in front of this crowd AKA Asher oooh or maybe by Asher.”
“Oh no” she whispers innocently placing her free hand on her cheek in a mocking gesture.
“Shut up.” I give Shell a cheeky smile making no eye contact because this isn’t a conversation I want to have right now.
From the corner of my eye, I spot the Ridgebacks trickling in, filing into the VIP section.
The usual suspects roll in together in their little clique—Collins. Jace. Peyton.
And then Asher.
He’s in a navy-blue polo that hugs his arms in a way that is criminal. He scans the room, and for a moment, his crisp ocean blue eyes lock onto mine. It’s a very subtle reminder that any doubts I was having are a big fat lie because just from one look, I can tell he has missed me and I’ve sure as hell missed him. My heart flips, and I have to look away before I start forgetting how sentences work. He thinks I’m a distraction. Has he looked in a mirror.
He doesn’t wave. Okay, of course he wasn’t going to.
But his jaw ticks.
It’s his you’re lucky I haven’t dragged you backstage already jaw tick. I’ve noticed that tiny telltale sign the last few times we’ve been around each other in a professional setting.
I turn back to Shell and whisper, “If I fall off this stage, tell Asher it’s his fault.”
She grins. “Maybe he does know CPR, he’d have to with how many women swoon around him.”
I shoot her a look that could kill, because that’s the last thought I needed right before go time.
The host calls my name.
I step forward.
Scarlett’s Speech
“Thank you for the warm welcome, everyone. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Scarlett Walker—Dawson’s Ridge High alumni, former tomboy turned sports agent, and veryproud daughter of Coach Ted Walker, whose voice you can probably hear from the car park during training.”
Laughter.
Good start.
“I spent the last five years working with top-tier athletes across the country out of an office based in Sydney. I’ve seen talent rise, fall, and rise again. And I’ve seen firsthand how the right support system—on and off the field—can change the trajectory of a player’s entire career and their life.”
My eyes scan the crowd. Asher’s leaning forward. Elbows on knees. Watching.
Caleb’s watching too—and the way he looks at me I can’t help but wonder if Shell and Dad are right.
Shell’s also listening intently, honestly, she’d make the perfect first official Maroon Management employee.
Deep breath.
All eyes on me.
“That’s why I started Maroon Management. To build something different. To represent players like people—not products. Not just for what they post online, but for who they are, what they’ve overcome, and what they still want to become.”
The crowd leans in, this isgoodthey’re hanging on my words.
“Dawson’s Ridge has guts, strength, and resilience. I’ve seen it. I’ve scouted it. And now, with our first Maroon office opening right here, I plan to put Dawson’s talent on the centre stage—where it belongs.”
