Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
The floor buckles. I stick out my arm, reach for the wall. “What? Why?”
“I lost a potential client this morning. I was courting a football player. A talented guy who’s in demand and looking for new representation. He called a few times last night and again this morning,” Maddox says, his voice barren, like every word hurts.
But fuck, every word slays me too.
“And you missed the calls?” I choke out as all my morning joy drains away.
“All of them,” he says, as a siren crackles from his side of the call. He must be walking somewhere in the city. “I put my phone on silent, and I’d promised this client I’d be available. I told him he could call anytime. I even said to him on the golf course that I was an early riser too.”
He sounds like he’s beating himself up. Of course he is. That’s his style. “But you’re allowed to have a life and get some sleep,” I insist. Maybe he just needs reassurance, and then he’ll realize he’s being ridiculous. He’ll say you’re right, Zane, and I’ll see you tonight and the next night and then we’ll find a way.
“Yes, but I’m not supposed to be MIA for twelve hours unless I’ve given my clients a heads-up,” he says, his tone full of remorse and self-loathing. “Clients expect to be able to get a hold of me in a reasonable amount of time. I even alert everyone when I’m traveling so they know I might not be reachable.”
“Right. I remember getting your group texts when you were flying to and from London,” I say gently, trying to get him to ease up. If he lightens up, he might realize we can give this thing between us a shot. “But c’mon. You’re being hard on yourself.”
“No. I’m not. Accessibility is literally part of the job. I represent multimillion-dollar athletes and I want to take care of them. It’s what I’ve told clients to expect. I have to be available in case of emergencies. And I slept in. I never do that.”
“It was just once, Mad,” I point out. Maybe he’ll take back his I can’t be with you pronouncement if I can just make my case.
“And once was enough. He’s going elsewhere because of this. He told me from the start he wanted my ear. He laid out his expectations, and I failed to deliver. He was in the right when he said I should have answered at least one of his phone calls.”
Damn. I’d like to give this football player a piece of my mind and tell him to grow a pair. “This guy sounds like an ass,” I mutter. “I wouldn’t have been bothered if I couldn’t reach you right away.”
“But I never missed your calls,” he says, gentle but firm. “And the point is—I made this mistake. And I’m paying the price. I was tasked with courting him, and now I’ll have to go in and tell Vance the client decided to go elsewhere,” he says, sounding like he just drank sour milk.
“Will you tell him why?” I ask, concerned for him.
“I won’t tell him I was with you,” he snaps, totally reading me wrong.
“I know. I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about you,” I huff. “I just meant will you tell him you had your phone off? How will you handle it with Vance?”
“I’ll have to say I fell asleep early and missed the call,” he says, biting out the words. “I’ll be lying once again too. I can’t keep justifying this thing with you. There’s no justification for sleeping with a client, let alone—”
But he cuts himself off.
“Let alone what, Maddox?” I ask, hating the desperation in my voice. But I’m dying to know what he didn’t let himself say.
Just fucking tell me you’re crazy for me too. We can figure this out together somehow.
“Nothing,” he mutters, then clears his throat. “If you don’t want me to represent you, I’ll understand.”
We fucked and he’s dropping me?
Oh, hell no. “You said you wouldn’t do that,” I throw back, not bothering to mask my annoyance now. If I can’t win him back for me, I’m not going to lose him when it comes to work. No way. This Bespoke deal matters too much. He doesn’t get to dump me in two different ways.
“That’s not what I meant,” Maddox shouts, and he’s the desperate one now, unraveling before my ears, raising his voice. He never raises his voice. But all of a sudden, he seems to recalibrate, because he’s cool and calm again, as he was on the night of the rooftop party as he says, “Zane, I want to work with you. I care about you. I will gladly, happily, professionally represent you, but I also understand if you don’t want to work with me.”