Halo Violation: A Secret Baby Sports Romance
Page 22
“Ms. Marshall,” he says, offering his hand. “I’m John Samuels, Ryan Blake’s agent. It’s very nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Samuels,” I tell him as I stand up to take his hand.
“Please call me Johnny.”
He gives my hand a hard squeeze, and I suck my breath in to keep from crying out. I guess he’s used to shaking hands with football players or something, because his grip is off the charts. Seriously! He could crack open walnuts with that iron grip of his. He could definitely break my bones.
It takes some effort for me to regain composure enough to manage a smile.
“And you must call me Charlotte,” I tell him.
“Charlotte it is.”
He leads me through a long, wide hallway to a bank of elevators at the end, and I find myself fascinated by the giant, floor to ceiling photos framed and mounted to the walls. They’re all photos of the Vipers, of course. Some of them feature various players—most notably Ryan—posing with politicians, celebrities and even royalty. In addition to the posed pictures, there are plenty of action shots dispersed throughout the array.
I am completely and utterly awed, and not in a good way. No wonder Ryan Blake has an attitude problem. I couldn’t even imagine what it would be like if I had to walk past a wall of life-sized pictures of myself every day. This hallway is like a shrine to his ego, and frankly, I think it’s disgusting.
“I’m in the middle of reading your book about Benjamin Montgomery right now,” Johnny says as he presses the button for the elevator.
“Oh, yeah?” I turn to him with a smile.
He nods. “Yeah, it’s amazing to get a look inside the world of finance, and better yet, to catch a glimpse of how his brain works. And I have to say I like how you structured the book. It could easily be dry and technical, but the way you dropped stuff in about his personal life at the end of every chapter makes it very readable.”
“Thank you so much.” I smile, taking an instant liking to Ryan’s manager.
Maybe it isn’t his intention to win me over with flattery, but in any case, it’s working.
The way to this girl’s heart is with a compliment on her writing.
The elevator doors open. We step in, and Johnny presses the button for the third floor. When the doors close, he turns to me with a smile.
“You seem like a very nice young lady, Charlotte,” he says.
Um...okay. I’m not sure how to respond to his statement. It seems to have come out of nowhere. Very random.
After brief pause I say, “Thank you.”
He nods. The doors open on the third floor and he puts an arm out to keep them open, motioning for me to exit ahead of him. Once we’ve both stepped out, he starts walking down the hallway with me at his side.
He glances over and says, “I just wanted to let you know that Ryan is probably going to be a bit...difficult.”
Oh, great.
“I’ve been managing his career for the better part of a decade,” Johnny goes on to say, “and I love him like he’s family. He’s a good guy deep down, but there’s no denying the fact that he can be a real asshole when things don’t go his way. And when it comes to this book... Well, let me put it this way: I don’t envy you the task ahead.”
Part of me wants to turn and run, but the promise of $250,000 at the end of the whole debacle keeps me going.
“I kinda suspected that was the case,” I tell Johnny. “I mean the fact that he never gives interviews kind of tipped me off to the fact that he probably wouldn’t want to open up to me.”
“Yeah, he is not happy about this at all.”
He’s not the only one. I am so not looking forward to having to pry information out of this guy, this massive megalomaniac with an attitude the size of Texas. The other men I’ve written about were only too happy to share all the details of their lives. They were pleasant to work with. They were actually grateful to me for the work I put into packaging their lives up for people to read about. This...this was a whole new ballgame for me.
So to speak.
“My advice is to stand your ground and dig your heels in,” Johnny says. “Ryan’s not delusional. He knows he has no choice but to cooperate, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to offer himself up without a fight. It may take some time, but he’ll do what he needs to do. Eventually.”
Eventually.
We come to a door near the end of the hall. Johnny opens it and motions for me to enter. It’s a small meeting room with a rectangular particleboard table in the center and three mesh back chairs on either side. Unlike the reception area, I don’t get the impression that it’s been painstakingly decorated. It’s pretty nondescript. Looks like your run of the mill meeting room like one you might find at an insurance company off the interstate an hour from Indianapolis or something.
Johnny walks over to a door on the side of the room and opens it to reveal a closet full of shelves. There are stacks of office supplies and at the bottom, a small mini fridge.
“Feel free to help yourself to anything in here. We’ve got water, juice, soda, energy drinks...” He opens the door of the fridge and peers in. “Protein drinks, too. If there’s anything you want that you don’t see, stick a Post-It on the door, indicating what you want. Maintenance will restock it overnight.”
He closes the fridge, closes the closet and turns back to me.
“The ladies room is about five or six doors down the hall,” he says. I believe it’s clearly marked. Is there anything I’m forgetting?”
I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or to himself, so I keep quiet.
“Do you have any questions, Charlotte?”
I shake my head. “None that I can think of.”
He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a business card and hands it to me.
“My cell number is on here. Feel free to call me anytime if you need help dealing with Ryan or for whatever reason.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, taking it from him and doing my best to hide my nervous energy.
Will I really need “help” dealing with Ryan? What in the world have I gotten myself into?
“Okay, well, I guess that’s it,” he says. “I’ll go get him. Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be back in five minutes or so. Ten tops.”
“Okay.”
After he leaves, I walk over to the table and set my stuff down. I open my briefcase and take out my notebook and a couple of pens, which I arrange on the tabletop on top of the notebook.
There.
A moment later, I grab my phone from my bag and set it on top of the notebook. Here’s hoping Ryan will let me record our interviews. Actually, though, it’d probably be best to wait and not ask him right away.
I plan to ease into this project by starting in the present and working my way backwards. Today I will only talk to him about events that are a matter of public record like the Super Bowl wins, the MVP awards and stuff like that. Of course I’ll want to hear personal accounts of these events, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I encountered some resistance there, but it’s not like I’ll be digging into his mysterious past.
Not yet, anyway. Today is going to be easy.
At least I hope it will be.
I go back over to the closet and get myself a bottle of lemonade out of the fridge. After cracking it open and taking a long, sweet sip, I take a seat at the table, but before long, I’m up again. I can’t sit still.
Taking another sip of lemonade, I walk over to the window and peer outside. There’s another building out there. Is this training facility a complex? I thought it was just the one building.
I squint my eyes and try to focus on the two guys entering the building. Given the size of them—that pure, muscular bulk—I can tell they’re Vipers, but they’re not dressed in uniform. They’re both wearing jeans, tee shirts and sneakers, which makes sense, of course, because the team is done training for the day.
When Gina was explaining the terms of the contract to me, she made it
clear that we’d have to work around Ryan’s schedule. The interviews would be taking place in the evening. I have absolutely no problem with this plan. It means I can sleep late and spend my mornings and afternoons writing. With any luck, I’ll have the book half written by the time I head back to the city next week.
The football players go into the building and I’m left to stare at nothing. I glance around the room, wondering what else I could be doing to ensure this meeting goes smoothly. But I can’t think of anything.
I take another sip of lemonade.
Where the hell is Johnny? It’s got to have been ten minutes by now. It occurs to me that my heart is pounding with a bit more force than usual and that my palms are a little sweaty.
Yuck. I hope Ryan doesn’t want to shake hands. How embarrassing would that be if he felt my sweaty palms?
Where are they?
I just want to get this introduction over with and start getting down to business.
After what seems like an eternity, I hear voices outside in the hallway. Finally! I consider taking a seat, but then I decide against it. I set my bottle of lemonade down on the table and turn towards the door with the biggest, brightest smile I can muster up.
Johnny enters first with a bright smile to match mine. And then Ryan enters.
Oh.
My.
God.
Those pictures of him online don’t even do him justice.
How am I ever going to get anything done if I have to work with this scorching hot hunk of man?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Daphne Swan has been making up stories in her head for as long as she can remember. She loves writing about relatable heroines and scorching hot alpha heroes, both good guys and bad boys. She’s on sports romance roll right now, so stay tuned for more stories featuring members of the Vipers and the women who love them. Daphne lives in California with two fur babies, and when she’s not reading or writing, she enjoys hiking and spending time outdoors.
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