Your new manager

Walking through the corridors, I couldn't figure out what I'd done this time.

Not that I actually cared.

It could be any number of things.

Skipping press obligations? Check.

Showing up late to training? Double check.

Missing a game or two? Triple check.

Telling a sponsor to shove it? …Probably.

I exhaled slowly, stretching my arms behind my head as I strolled toward Coach Rivera's office.

Maybe it was all of the above.

Didn't matter. I'd get chewed out, pretend to listen, maybe promise to be better (I wouldn't), and walk out like nothing had happened.

Same routine.

Same lecture.

Same pointless attempt to control me.

I smirked to myself. Good luck with that.

Reaching Rivera's office, I did what I always did—I didn't knock.

I never knocked.

Instead, I swung the door open, stepping inside like I owned the damn place.

And froze.

Sitting across from Rivera, looking so impossibly poised and put together, was her.

Mystery Woman.

The same woman from the bar.

The woman who had shut me down in three seconds flat and left me wondering about her for an entire month.

She still looked insanely hot.

Long golden-brown hair, perfectly styled, not a strand out of place. Striking green eyes that held no warmth, only sharp calculation, like she was already analyzing me and finding me insufficient.

Her black blazer was tailored to perfection, cinched at the waist over a crisp white blouse. And that skirt—Jesus Christ. It was professional, tasteful, but it still clung in all the right places, accentuating long, toned legs that crossed elegantly at the knee.

She looked expensive.

Unbothered.

And completely untouchable.

My gaze dragged over her, slow and shameless, taking in every polished inch of her.

And she didn't blink.

Didn't look away.

Didn't react.

Like I was nothing to her.

Something hot curled in my chest.

Rivera cleared his throat loudly.

I dragged my eyes away—barely—and turned to him.

"Sit," he ordered.

I smirked. "If you say so, Coach."

Slouching into the chair across from him, I tilted my head toward her.

"So," I drawled. "Who's the suit?"

She didn't react.

Rivera did. "This is Lydia Whitmore. Your new manager."

I blinked.

Then grinned.

Oh. Oh.

This just got interesting.

Lydia Whitmore.

I finally had a name.

And not just any name—she was my manager now?

Perfect.

I leaned back, crossing my arms. "Damn, Coach. Didn't think I was that much trouble. Had to hire someone just to babysit me again?"

Rivera gave me a pointed look. "You are that much trouble."

Lydia tilted her head slightly, studying me with a cool, unreadable expression.

"Babysitting isn't in my job description," she said smoothly. "I handle schedules, discipline, PR, and overall functionality."

I smirked. "So, babysitting."

Her green eyes sharpened, but she didn't rise to the bait.

Interesting.

Rivera sighed, rubbing his temples. "Freya, listen carefully—because I'm only going to say this once."

I did not listen carefully.

But I did watch Lydia.

Because she was watching me.

And not in the way people usually did.

There was no awe, no admiration, no interest.

She wasn't impressed.

Not even a little.

She was figuring me out.

I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on my knees, and smirked. "Coach, I gotta say—I feel kinda special. Did you bring her in just for me?"

Rivera exhaled through his nose. "Yes."

I laughed. "Oh, that's amazing."

Lydia didn't blink. "It's not a compliment."

I grinned at her. "Still feels like one."

Rivera ignored me. "Lydia is here because we need you to actually—God forbid—act like a professional athlete. And since you seem physically incapable of doing that on your own, she's going to make sure you do."

I gave her a once-over, slow and deliberate. "Is she, now?"

Rivera's eyes narrowed. "You will listen to her, Vesper. Or you will regret it."

That? That made me laugh.

"Oh, Coach. I don't listen to anyone."

Silence.

Lydia folded her hands over her lap, unbothered.

"We'll see about that," she said simply.

God, she was hot.

Rivera exhaled. "I'll leave you two to discuss the details."

I perked up. "Oh? Just the two of us?"

Rivera shot me a warning look before standing. "Don't screw this up, Vesper."

I winked. "No promises."

With a tired sigh, he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Which meant it was just us now.

Alone.

I grinned.

"Well," I drawled, stretching out in my seat. "Guess that makes us partners, huh?"

Lydia lifted a brow. "No."

I laughed. "What, you don't like working with me already?"

She tilted her head slightly, assessing. "I don't like working with people who don't take their careers seriously."

I smirked. "Who says I don't?"

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk.

"For starters?" she said coolly. "You missed games."

I shrugged. "Life happens."

"Not to professionals."

Damn. Sharp.

I exhaled slowly, tapping my fingers against the desk. "You always this cold, sweetheart?"

"No."

I raised a brow.

And then—

"But I will be with you."

Something hot and electric snapped between us.

For the first time, I didn't have a comeback.

Because damn.

That? That was sexy.

Before I could even process that, she straightened, expression calm and lethal.

"From now on, things are going to change."

I blinked.

Then grinned.

Oh, this was going to be fun.