SOPHIE BROOKS:
Party, hook-up, hangover, repeat.
I don't do rules, responsibility, or monogamy.
So when the chance to sleep with the hottest Olympian swimmer in the country presents itself, you can be damn sure I take it.
And sneak out before he wa...
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Benjamin Avery is a legend.
He has represented some of the most prominent athletes in the US in the last ten years, and now he has not only Davis but several other high-profile Olympic athletes signed.
He's my dream agent, which is why I feel five seconds away from throwing up as I walk into the Michigan Lakefront Hotel for our meeting. Valentina is behind the front desk, clicking away on her computer.
"Hi, Jayden," she says when she glances up. Her smile goes from elated to nervous in a split second. "How's Soph?"
Valentina has, as the only one of Sophie's coworkers, been allowed to come by the hospital. I send her a tight-lipped smile, the strain of the last week weighing on me. "She's okay. She's getting discharged today."
"Really?" Her face lights up. "Tell her I'll come by her place when she feels up for it."
"I will. I gotta go... I have a meeting," I say, glancing in the direction of the restaurant, feeling my stomach bottom out.
"Sure thing. See you." Valentina's focus is back on the screen in front of her, and I make my way inside the restaurant slowly.
I see Avery before he sees me.
He's one intimidating man. More than ten years older than me - though he doesn't look a day over thirty - sharp as a tack and has a poker face that could rival Sophie's.
Davis has always claimed he's a good guy, ever since they started working together three years ago, but when he lifts his head, those steel gray eyes zeroing in on me, I'm not sure I see it.
He doesn't smile, doesn't move a muscle, and yet I feel like I'm about to be fed to a lion.
Shit, what am I doing?
"Mr. Avery," I say in greeting, my voice surprisingly steady as I extend a hand. He looks at it a second too long. Just long enough for me to get uncomfortable before he shakes it.
"Take a seat, Sennels."
I do as he says, and we order. When he orders some fancy scotch, I ask for the only high-class drink I know. The whiskey Sophie usually drinks.
Avery nods, appreciative like I just earned points by knowing about whiskey. Yet another way Sophie is helping out with this meeting.
"I'm pleased you reached out," he says, though nothing about his expression suggests it. He doesn't look displeased about it either, just... indifferent.
"Good, um, I'm happy we could set up a meeting," I say, falling over my words a little.
"That assistant of yours is certainly... capable," he says, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.
I can only imagine how that conversation must have gone down. Sophie has her ways. "Yeah, she's got talent," I say wryly, taking a drink.
