Page 203 of King of Pain

I study his face. His eyes are calm, honest. Iwantto believe him. And I do. More importantly, I trust him.

Still, anxiety creeps in. My brain is already playing out worst-case scenarios.

I take a breath and step back, poking a finger into his chest. “You better be. I want constant communication from you. And I swear on myVan Halen 1984vinyl, if you put yourself in danger—”

He smirks. “You’re so sexy when you get like this.”

I cross my arms. “—you’re not getting this dick ever again.”

His jaw drops. “You wouldn’t.”

I shrug. “Well, for a week, then.”

Chance barks a laugh and pulls me into a bone-crushing hug. “It’s just a night, baby. I’ll be back, in one piece, before you know it. I wouldn’t be going if it wasn’t important.”

I lean back and kiss him, deep and slow, my hands locking behind his head. When I finally pull away, I rest my forehead against his and whisper, “What about your exhibit? It’s on Saturday. Don’t you have setup and last-minute things to do?”

He nods. “I already texted Liz. Everything’s been dialed in for weeks. Her team has it handled. I’m meeting them at the venue Wednesday, so see? Ihaveto be back.”

I grunt, not fully convinced, but let it go.

Chance rubs my arms. “And I don’t want you to worry about anything. Deacon will be—”

“Up my ass?” I snark.

“In every way except the one he knows will get him killed,” Chance growls.

“I have to go to work,” I say, heading to the entryway and grabbing my laptop bag. “Meeting with Jason.”

Chance groans.

“Jealous much?” I tease as I pack up my things.

He doesn’t answer. He just leans against the counter, watching me with a smug little grin.

“I’m serious,” I say, pointing at him. “I want updates when you take off, land, eat, drink, or take a piss.”

“I get it,” he says, holding up his hands. “I swear on1984.”

Satisfied, I cross the room and kiss him once more, quick but meaningful. Then I head out the door, heart already tugging in his direction.

Please come back to me.

“I think that about covers all the negotiation points for this latest sponsor contract,” I say, clicking my tablet closed and leaning back in the conference room chair. “You’ve become quite the hot commodity.”

Jason, wearing a white polo that stretches across his shoulders and a team ball cap pulled low, nods in agreement. “I know, right? I’m kind of a big deal now.”

I chuckle and shake my head at him. Jason talks a good game, but he’s one of the humblest athletes I’ve worked with.

He leans forward on the table. “Gotta say, it feels good.”

“It should. You’ve earned it,” I say, though I soften my tone. “But let’s keep our heads on straight, yeah? Over-exposure is a real thing. Too many endorsements too fast, and the market tunes out—even if you’re playing at peak performance.”

Jason gives me a respectful nod. “I’ll take your lead. I trust your judgment.”

“Good. I’ll get these revisions written up and over to the attorneys at G-Force. Congratulations—looks like you’ve got your first sneaker endorsement.”

Jason beams, full grin, practically bouncing in his chair. “Man, I can’t thank you enough for all the hard work you’ve put in.”