Read a preview
Chapter 1
Chapter One: The Cocky Quarterback
The conference room at the Chicago Chargers' training facility buzzed with the low hum of anticipation. Hunter Ellis slouched in his chair at the head of the long oak table, his broad shoulders filling out a team polo shirt that strained against his muscled chest. Fresh off a season that had him shattering passing records, he felt invincible. His teammates—linemen with arms like tree trunks, receivers with lightning speed—filled the seats around him, trading jabs and laughs. Hunter grinned, his perfect white teeth flashing under the fluorescent lights.
"Ellis, you're on fire this year," said Marcus, the burly left tackle, clapping Hunter on the back. "But word is your agent's bailing. Says you're too much of a headache."
Hunter leaned back, crossing his arms. "Headache? Nah, they just can't handle the spotlight I bring. I'll have ten agents begging for me by free agency." His voice carried that signature cocky drawl, smooth as whiskey and twice as potent.
The door swung open, and in walked team owner Victor Langston, a silver-haired powerhouse in a tailored suit. Flanking him was a woman who commanded every eye in the room. Ava Reynolds strode in like she owned the place, her heels clicking sharply on the tile floor. She was all sharp angles and cool elegance: a fitted black pantsuit hugging her curves, blonde hair pulled into a severe ponytail, and green eyes that scanned the room with predatory precision. No smile, no warmth—just pure, unyielding professionalism.
"Gentlemen," Langston announced, taking his seat. "This is Ava Reynolds, the top sports agent in the business. She's here to renegotiate Hunter's contract before he even thinks about testing the market. We want him locked in, long-term."
Ava nodded curtly, sliding a leather portfolio onto the table. "Mr. Ellis, I've reviewed your stats, endorsements, and leverage. We'll discuss terms privately after this. But make no mistake—this deal gets done my way."
Hunter's gaze locked on her, a spark igniting in his blue eyes. She was gorgeous, no doubt, with full lips that begged to be kissed and a body that promised fire under that ice. But her tone? It was a challenge. He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Your way, huh? Sounds fun, Ava. Most women say that right before they melt."
A ripple of chuckles spread through the room. Ava's expression didn't flicker. "Save the charm for the field, quarterback. This is business." She met his stare evenly, unflinching.
Langston cleared his throat. "Meeting adjourned. Hunter, my office in ten."
As the team filed out into the locker room, Hunter lingered, watching Ava gather her papers. She was a fortress, but he loved a siege. In the locker room, amid the clang of lockers and steam from showers, he cornered his offensive line.
"Fifty grand," Hunter said, stripping off his shirt to reveal a chiseled torso etched with tattoos. "I bet I can have her in my bed inside a month."
Marcus whistled. "That ice queen? You're on, hotshot."
Hunter smirked, the wager sealed. Game on.
