Table of Contents
Back Cover Blurb
Copyright
Dear Reader
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
About the Author
Available Now
Also by Nicole Flockton
Fighting for Redemption
The Elite Book 4
Nicole Flockton
Contents
Back Cover Blurb
Copyright
Dear Reader
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
About the Author
Available Now
Also by Nicole Flockton
Back Cover Blurb
From USA Today Bestselling Author, Nicole Flockton, the final book in The Elite Series.
Bad Boy Brett Hunter is on a downward spiral after a poor performance at the Rio Olympic Games. His sponsors are threatening to drop him and trouble seems to find him wherever he goes. He’s comfortable with his bad boy image, it’s what he deserves after what he’s done. The last thing he wants to do is change the public’s perception of him, but his agent tells him, change his image or lose his sponsors.
Cassandra Fielder doesn’t like working with diva athletes – she’s been there, done that and has the divorce decree to go with it. When she finds out her new client is Olympian Brett Hunter, for the first time in her career she wants to tell her boss no, unfortunately, saying no isn’t an option. What she isn’t prepared for is the unexpected attraction flaring between them. She has no plans to play on that particular court again. As she spends time with Brett, she begins to see there is more to him than what he shows the public. But why is he trying so hard to hang on to his bad boy image?
Being with Cassandra has Brett facing old foes and a past he is desperately trying to forget. When the truth comes out, a fledging love is put to the test. Can it survive or has trust been irrevocably shattered?
Copyright © 2017 by Nicole Flockton
Cover Design: Jennifer Greeff - More Than Words Promotions & PR
Couple Photograph : Adobe Stock © Jale Ibrak
1st Edition
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
Created with Vellum
Dear Reader,
Welcome to Brett’s story. If you’ve been following the series, you know Brett is a bad boy that likes to get himself caught up into situations that don’t generate good press for him.
Brett is a complex guy who has his reasons for acting the way he does. I knew he needed someone who would stand up to him and make him see the error of his ways. Cassandra is just the girl.
I want to thank you all for coming on this journey with me as we’ve travelled from Rio de Janeiro to Sydney, Australia and now, finishing up in Colorado.
This has been a fun series to write and if you want to know about my upcoming releases, please sign up for my newsletter here. http://bit.ly/2quatWN
Hugs
Nicole
Acknowledgments
I want to thank my fantastic friend, cover designer and assistant Jennifer from More Than Words Promotion. You’re always there at the other end of a FB message ready to help me, even when I leave things to the last minute. I swear I’m trying to get better.
To Abigail Owen for being a great beta reader and a great friend. One day we will finish our project together.
To Kay from Authors on a Dime, her copy editing eye is brilliant and the tweaks you suggest make the story stronger.
To the girls on my review team, I’m so happy to have you on my team and your support means the world to me.
Wren Michaels, what can I say, you’ve been there as a friend from the moment I announced my first sale with a congratulatory tweet. I certainly didn’t know how that one tweet would lead a wonderful friendship which involves roller skating dates with our kids in the summer, to camping and mayhem at Renaissance Festivals. Thank you for that tweet! And for your help in coming up with a TV show idea for my book.
Finally, to my husband and kids. You are the lights of my life. I love you to pieces.
1
"You're kidding me, aren't you?" Cassandra Fielder looked at her boss, Frank, hoping he was pulling one of his rare pranks.
"No, I never joke when it comes to such an important client."
Well, crap, he’s using his no-nonsense tone. That could only mean one thing: it was a no-prank day.
"Since when has Brett Hunter been one of our clients? I thought Powerz had him in an airtight contract."
"As of yesterday he became one of ours. He and Powerz had a mutual parting of ways."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" she muttered under her breath.
"Now, now Cassandra,” Frank admonished. “Given your experience with athletes, and your uncanny ability to persuade an Eskimo to buy ice, you know you're the best person on staff to handle Brett. I’m sure you’ll come up with some unique ideas to change the public's perception of his image. His agent, Dan, is a good friend of mine. I assured him we'd do everything we could to take Brett from being public enemy number one to hero of the hour."
God, the task was impossible. For his whole career, Brett Hunter had gone from one scandal to the next. Which culminated in a poor performance at the recent Olympics in the pool, and more drama than you could throw a stick at, out of it. The guy was a veritable marketer’s nightmare. And, lucky her, he was her nightmare now.
There was no point in arguing with Frank Allen, managing director of Star Image Consultants. Once he'd made up his mind, not even a jackhammer could break it loose. She supposed she should be flattered Frank thought so highly of her, even though this assignment threw part of her past in her face, a past she’d rather forget. Her previous experiences were the very reason she didn't want to work with Brett Hunter. Athletes weren't high on her list of favorite clients. Her only option was to suck it up, hope she could do the impossible, and do it quickly.
"Seeing as you have so much faith in
me, and it’s obvious I have no choice in the matter, I'll contact his agent to set up an appointment. I’ll pray he’s not hungover and misses the meeting."
"No, you don’t have any other choice, and there’s no need to contact Dan." Frank leaned forward and Cassandra knew she wasn't going to like what was coming next. "Brett Hunter’s already in the conference room, waiting to speak to you."
Fan-friggin-tastic.
Trust Frank not to give her any time to prepare. Or to come up with any ideas she could present to him. Hell, she needed time to think. Image improvement ideas didn’t just rain down from the sky. Her boss was clearly throwing her in the deep end and expecting her to swim to victory. Well, she was no Olympic-level swimmer, so the one waiting for her was just going to have to cool his heels a little while longer.
“I'd like to have a few minutes to look into things and see what I can come up with."
"No. I need you to see Brett now. Meet him first and then you can work out the best way to improve his image after you’ve talked to him."
God, how she wanted to stamp her feet and cry why me, but a diva she wasn't. A consummate professional she was.
"Fine. But next time, a little warning would be nice." She stood and headed toward the door.
"Cassandra?"
She stopped and turned back, lifting an eyebrow in query.
Frank grinned. "What fun would it be if I'd warned you?"
Cassandra rolled her eyes and chuckled. "You're lucky I love working for you, Frank."
Still smiling, she headed for her own office to gather the things she needed. If it took her more than the two minutes it should, what did it matter? Brett Hunter could stew a little longer.
* * *
Not ready at all for this meeting, but knowing she'd delayed long enough, Cassandra straightened her shoulders, opened the door to the conference room, and found it—empty.
Great.
Fantastic.
He couldn't even wait ten minutes. Damn, why had she been so caught up trying to show Frank she couldn't be manipulated? Trying to get the upper hand in a meeting she was going into blind was a dumb move. She should've just grabbed a pen and notepad from someone's desk, marched straight into the conference room, and dealt with Brett. If she'd done that, she might have already been back in her office by now, going over her notes and brainstorming strategies.
Now she had to search the office for her elusive new client, all the while making sure Frank didn’t notice she’d misplaced said star client. She had to find him fast, hoping like hell he hadn’t already left the building and was well on his way to getting into trouble.
She paused for a second, formulating a plan of action.
If I were a disgraced athlete, where would I go?
To the nearest exit and the closest bar?
That could be the next step in her search if Brett Hunter didn’t turn up somewhere in the office.
"Are you my new brand expert?"
A deep male voice sounded behind her. Relief coursed through her, knowing that she wouldn't have to walk into Frank's office and tell him she'd lost his friend's client.
She turned, faced her quarry, and stuck out her hand. "Good morning, Mr. Hunter. I'm Cassandra Fielder, and, yes, I will be working with you to tidy up your image."
Her breath caught when Brett took her hand in his and gave it a firm shake. Liquid heat wound its way through her bloodstream.
What the hell?
Cassandra snatched her hand away and waved toward the conference table, indicating he should take a seat. The movement also shook away the tingly feeling still lingering through her.
"Why don't you make yourself comfortable and we can get started." She pointed to the opposite side of the table. "Would you like something to drink? Coffee. Tea. Water."
"Got anything stronger?"
Was he serious? It wasn't even 10 a.m. and he wanted something stronger? No wonder Powerz got rid of him.
"No."
"You do realize I'm joking, don't you, Ms. Fielder?"
Cassandra crossed her arms and examined Brett Hunter closely. He was tall, with the signature swimmer’s broad shoulders and a tapered-in waist. Designer stubble covered his cheeks and chin. She’d never been a fan of stubble, but Brett wore it well. His dark brown hair was cut short at the back and sides but a little longer in the front so that it hung over his blue eyes. Eyes that were clear and bright. No hint of redness to suggest he was coming off a hard night or had already had a few drinks this morning.
"You shouldn't always believe what’s written in the press," he continued. "Half of it isn't true."
Was he suggesting that some of the stories written about him were false? If that were the case, then why would his old agency drop him? There had to be some truth in them. Or maybe he was trying to rattle her, get her off balance so she wouldn’t consider taking him on.
Well, he’d picked the wrong woman to try that on. First, Frank wouldn’t let her walk out of this conference room without a plan of action. Second, she wasn’t susceptible to spoiled athletes who thought the world owed them everything. And she could thank her ex-husband, Michael, for that immunity.
As quickly as Michael's name entered her mind, she pushed it away. Now was not the time to give even a moment’s thought to the biggest mistake of her life. Her concentration had to be on the man sitting opposite her and working on making him a golden boy in the public's eyes. It wasn’t going to be an easy feat, considering all the drama he’d caused in Rio de Janeiro at the Olympic Games and his recent incidents back in the States.
"So, what you're telling me, by saying half of the stories written about you aren’t true, is that someone Photo-shopped a picture so it looked like you were partying with the German volleyball team, holding a bottle of beer in your hand, the night before one of your events? Or that you weren’t the reason a Canadian gymnast had to be cut from her event for missing a training session because she was practicing the horizontal beam with you? Or, just last week, your run-in with patrons and security at a nightclub in Los Angeles didn’t happen? All of those things are untrue?"
She bit back a laugh at the slow rise of red creeping up from the base of his neck.
Gotcha!
He opened his mouth and Cass promptly held up her hand. "I don't want to hear your attempts to justify or convince me those things didn’t happen. They did, Brett. You can’t change it. But it's in your past and I'm concentrating on your future. So, let’s move forward, shall we?"
Never before had she spoken so harshly to a client. If Frank were in the room with her, he'd be pulling her aside to reprimand her for her aggressive tone.
"You know what? I don't have to stay here and listen to this. I got enough of it from Powerz. There’s no need for you to chastise me like I'm five years old."
He stood and headed for the door.
Shit.
If she let him walk out, she could kiss her career goodbye. She'd worked too long and too hard for that to happen, especially over a disagreement with an athlete. Cassandra had no doubt in her abilities. She was the best person at the Agency to deal with Brett. Come hell or high water, she would turn his image around. Even if it caused her to lose her sanity.
2
"Wait, don't leave yet."
Brett's hand hovered over the silver doorknob. One twist and he could be out of the room and heading for the elevators and freedom. Away from Ms. Cassandra Fielder, with her soulful brown eyes and her intoxicating, musky perfume. Not to mention the judgmental tone she’d used with him. He'd had enough of that from his agent Dan, his coach, Ron, and his parents. Everyone in his life constantly told him they were disappointed in him.
God, he was more disappointed in himself than anyone else was.
"You don't want me to leave because you're worried about your job. I know Frank and Dan are friends. For once, it’ll be nice to know I won't be the one failing someone important."
Even he could hear the cynical tone in his voice.
/> "Look, I'm sorry, Brett. I shouldn't have been so rude. I let my anger get the better of me. I would say it won't happen again, but I can't guarantee that." Her smile pierced him straight in the gut, causing him to think of other ways he could make her smile at him like that more often.
No.
He didn't need to let himself get distracted, even though spending time with Cassandra Fielder wouldn't be a hardship. His focus had to be on what he needed to do to get through the next couple of weeks. It wouldn’t be that hard. All he needed to do was keep his nose clean. If he did that, his sponsors would be happy and they’d stop threatening to pull their support. Or so Dan said. But if it was that easy, then why the hell had Powerz terminated their contract, so now he stood in front of a woman who looked at him as if he was a piece of crap?
Shit, he wished he'd done better at the Games. No, he knew he could've done better, he just hadn't wanted to, and that was something that he had to live with and something he regretted every day since. To know he not only let Naomi down, but also the most important people in his life. The sad thing was, she would never know how he'd let her down. Would never remember how he'd told her he'd win gold for her. So what if he’d won one in a relay event? He didn't win an individual gold. And that was what he'd promised her he’d do.
Thinking about Naomi and all she’d suffered at his hands was the reminder he needed. As much as it galled him to have to appease sponsors with this whole rebranding issue, he would do it. He owed it to her and to his support team, as well.
"Fine, I'll stay." Brett walked back over to the table and sat. "Why don't you tell me what you have in mind for me? What’s your grand plan to improve my image?"
For the first time since Cassandra walked into the room, she appeared nervous, tapping her pen against a notepad. A suspiciously blank notepad. Where were all the notes outlining what hoops he needed to jump through?
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