Page 3 of Play Me

CHAPTER

TWO

Astrid

The early afternoon is bright, flooding my boss’s expansive office with light.

Trophies from various rugby championships glimmer on the shelves behind his mahogany desk.

His Most Valuable Player awards shine from their spot above a wet bar filled with pricey liquors and crystal drinkware that I’ve never seen him use.

Plants dot the space, giving the gray walls and rich woods a pop of vibrance.

The room screams serenity, wealth, and success.

It’s almost rude.

“There you are,” Renn says, leaning back in his oversized desk chair. The slight Australian accent he picked up during his overseas career still catches me off guard even after all these years. “Glad to see you didn’t wind up in the county jail this afternoon.”

“I’m not going to lie. It was a close call.”

Memories of my encounter with Truck Boy trigger the muscles in my shoulders to tense again. Just when I’d started to relax, too.

If grudge-holding were a professional sport, I’d have an office like Renn’s.

Tiaras would sit on my shelves, and scepters would hang over my wine rack filled with expensive reds and glass bottles of Coke.

It might not scream serenity and wealth, but it would demonstrate my professional level of grudgery.

I’m not exactly proud of that, but I’ve grown to accept it.

“Grab a seat,” Renn says, motioning to the leather chair facing him.

I pull my clipboard out of my bag before I sit and get situated.

Most of the work I do for Renn or his family members is done virtually. If I need to pop into their homes or offices for something, they’re usually away. I have to say, though, seeing Renn in person never fails to stagger me a bit. He’s that handsome.

Perfect symmetry. Full lips. He has a regal air about him but also an approachability that makes him impossible not to love. Everyone loves Renn Brewer.

“I have a proposition for you,” he says, running a hand through his tobacco-colored locks.

On the surface, his statement is routine. It’s a typical exchange between a boss and his employee. But I’ve worked with Renn long enough to hear the emphasis on certain syllables and the touch of hesitance in the words. That only means one thing: this isn’t going to be an innocuous proposal.

I lift a brow. “Usually, you just text those to me.”

He smiles—but not the kind that floods me with the warm and fuzzies. This one tightens my stomach. This smile is a cherry-red flag.

“Just say it,” I say.

“I acquired a new scrum half from Denver.”

He nods as if he’s mentally applauding himself. This acquisition means nothing to me … so why is he telling me about it?

“Congratulations,” I say, my tone filled with suspicion.

“Thanks. It was practically a steal. This guy was the best player in the league.”

Was ? I don’t want to ask why he said that in the past tense. The more I know about the player and his backstory, the worse off I’ll be. But the way my boss is watching me makes it awkward not to ask.

“Why would you want someone on a downhill slope?” I ask with the enthusiasm of a sleeping sloth.

He leans forward. “Because I don’t believe it’s a death spiral.

He might be a shadow of the player he used to be, but he’s still great—just not as fit or focused as he once was.

There’s so much untapped potential, so much room for greatness, and I think we can get him to come back around with a little guidance. ”

What’s with this we shit? I stare at him. Street signs may not be guiding us to our destination, but I can see the path as clear as a bell. Renn must’ve taken more hits to the head than we realized if he thinks I’m going to go along with this.

“That’s where you come in,” he says.

Ugh . I knew it . I look at the ceiling and exhale harshly.

“He needs someone to match his … temperament,” Renn says carefully.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that he needs an assistant—someone who will stand up to him. Who won’t back down from a challenge. Someone I can trust to help him get on the right track.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” I deadpan.

“Of course you do.”

Technically, I do know how to do that. And technically, I can do it. But that doesn’t mean I want to—and Renn knows it.

I’ve had enough experience with the sports world to know that athletes are a lot of work—too much work for what it’s worth.

I’ve met other personal assistants to players through Renn, and their stories are wild.

These guys seem to be cut from the same cloth.

They’re overconfident and dismissive. Hardheaded as hell.

Most of them can’t, or won’t, follow directions, and very few of them appreciate the work other people are putting forth to help make them great. I don’t want any part of that.

I’m fortunate to have worked with Renn. He’s a unicorn. I’d like to keep it that way.

“There’s a reason I don’t have kids, Renn. I don’t like them . They’re little fun suckers, and this feels very fun sucky, but with a very large male.”

He coughs back a chuckle. “Remind me. When was the last time you had fun?”

I glare at him even though he has a point.

It’s not like personal assisting his player would put a crimp in my lifestyle.

I don’t have a lifestyle beyond egg sandwiches for breakfast, working hard throughout the day, and watching trash television at night while I promise myself that I’ll do better tomorrow.

But none of that is relevant in this conversation.

“I’m only asking that you do for him what you did for me when I was playing,” he says.

“So I should plan on answering calls from his father about why he’s in the emergency room with contusions on his head and a prostitute in his hotel room who refuses to leave?”

“That wasn’t like it sounds, and you know it.”

I watch him carefully. He’s avoiding my gaze and grabbing at the collar of his shirt—two telltale signs that he’s hiding something. “What are you not saying?”

“There may be rumors of gambling problems and a fetish for sex workers.”

“Renn!”

He holds his hands out in front of him. “For what it’s worth, I don’t believe them. And I want you to think about it like this—I’m going to pay you to help someone turn their life around.”

“That would be great if I cared.” I shrug, pausing to give him a moment to remember who he’s talking to. “ But I don’t . I don’t care whether he turns his life around, if he gives his money away, or if he gets his dick wet at the rabbit ranch or bunny basket or whatever it’s called.”

Renn presses his lips together and tries not to laugh.

“You realize what you’re doing to me, don’t you?” I ask. “You’re asking me to babysit a grown-ass man. If I wanted to do that, I would’ve worked for your youngest brother.”

“Just through the rest of rugby season, and we’re already halfway done. Then we’ll reassess.”

I slide my pen from my clipboard and throw it at him. He chuckles, moving his head an inch to the right and easily dodging the projectile. The device sails right by, landing next to a lamp.

I don’t always love Renn Brewer.

My lips pucker in annoyance at the position Renn has put me in. Athletes are generally my least favorite humans. And the thought of having to deal with the arrogance, moodiness, and demands of a rugby hero—because they all think they’re one—makes my skin crawl.

But what can I really do?

I had twenty dollars to my name when I met Renn’s sister, Bianca.

Hours before our impromptu meeting at the dry cleaner’s where I worked, my then-boyfriend had thrown me out of his apartment over a busty brunette with bright blue eyes.

I had no money and nowhere to go besides asking my friends if I could couch surf—something my pride couldn’t do.

Bianca came in as I was preparing to ask my boss if I could stay in the back of the building until I could get on my feet.

While another employee located Bianca’s garments, we started talking.

And through a series of fortunate events, I was able to offer her tips on getting wine out of her coat, told her who to call to locate missing luggage from an airline, and I fixed her Social account from automatically cross-posting her content to another platform.

Before she left, she gave me her card. Two days later, I was officially Renn’s and her personal assistant, and introduced to a world I didn’t know existed. She changed my life, and I’ll never forget that.

“What will it take?” Renn asks.

“What do you mean— what will it take ?”

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get you on board.”

“What if I say there’s no way to do that?”

He smirks. “Then I’ll just have to wear you down.”

I groan, knowing that’s exactly what he’ll do … and that he’ll eventually succeed. Because even though this is a no-good, awful, terrible idea, my loyalty is to Renn. If he needs me to corral one of his minions, I can’t say no.

My gaze shifts from Renn to the floor-to-ceiling windows on my left, displaying a near-panoramic view of Nashville.

Although I’ve seen it countless times from this vantage point, it never ceases to steal my breath.

The mix of modern skyscrapers and iconic landmarks is beautiful.

The lazy Cumberland River winding through the city and the pockets of green forests breaking up the concrete jungle create a living art exhibit.

I could watch the cars crawling below for hours.

And to see it all from this perch in the sky, in one of the swankiest offices in the city? It’s more than I ever imagined for myself.

“I’ll double your pay,” he says flatly.

My jaw drops. “What?”

“I’ll double it unless that’s not enough. Name your price.”

“Whoa, slow down,” I say, laughing in disbelief. “You’re starting to talk out of your ass.”

“I’m desperate.”

“Clearly.”

I can’t keep my head from spinning. He’ll double my pay?