Page 78 of The Wildest One

Everyone was staring at me, waiting for me to speak. I only had one shot to impress the team, and this was it.

“Thank you for the introduction.” I demanded my lips to smile, doing everything I could to keep the quiver out of my voice. “I’m Jolene Jameson, your new head of marketing. My office is upstairs”—I pointed up even though my statement was more than enough and the gesture wasn’t needed—“so if there’s ever anything you need, don’t hesitate to come see me. I won’t be working alone. I’ll have two assistants, both arriving within the next few days from Boston, and the three of us will be managing the entire department.”

I refused to look in Beck’s direction, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to get through this, so I aimed my focus at his other half-naked teammates. “To give you just a little background, I’m also from Boston, and I’ve been an avid hockey fan for as long as I can remember. I might not be able to call plays”—I grinned at the head coach—“but I have a deep understanding of the sport, and it’s only on a rare occasion that I miss a home game.”

“Boston!” someone shouted. “You’d better not be rooting for them now!”

I laughed. “There’s no need to worry. There’s only one team I’m rooting for, and that’s the Whales. Admittedly”—I could feel my face reddening—“I’ve been following your team for the last couple of seasons, so I’m well aware of what you guys can do andthe strength and power and talent this team possesses.” I shifted positions, feeling the weight of Beck’s stare on my body.

“Mark briefly mentioned that marketing will be different now that it’s under my control. One reason for that is because I’ll be traveling with you. I know in the past, there was a never-ending carousel of marketing reps, a slew of unfamiliar faces, nonstop cameras pointed at you during times that felt inappropriate—that won’t ever be the case with me. I will be your contact. It’s my face you’ll see—on the plane, at games, at practices—everywhere and anywhere.” I used my fingers to list each point and paused to let the news set in for them. But for me, I halted because the thought of spending that much time with Beck—in this arena, on the team’s plane, during one-on-ones—was what had made these last few days torturous.

“My team and I are here to make sure you’re comfortable, and the best way to do that is by getting to know you guys. I’d also like to sit down with each of you to discuss our strategies and plans and make sure they align with yours.” I attempted to find my breath. “Do you have any questions?”

I still couldn’t look at Beck’s side of the locker room.

I didn’t trust myself if our eyes became glued again.

There was absolutely no telling what type of expression would come over my face or how my body would react. If his gaze would make the acid lift straight from my stomach and make me want to bolt from this room or make me break out in tears.

“Jameson,” someone said. “Is it a coincidence you both have the same last name? Are you …married?”

“No,” I replied, my head shaking.

“Jolene isn’t my wife …” my father said, his voice carrying across the room.

But as his voice trailed off, I found my eyes moving. My brain was telling my body to stand still, but something wasn’t allowingit to. Slowly, I shifted past twelve o’clock, nearing eleven, and stopping at ten.

Those hazel eyes weren’t inviting. They weren’t devouring. They weren’t comforting.

My chest rose.

My stomach churned.

There was a pain so deep inside me as I saw exactly what I feared.

“She’s my daughter,” my father continued.

Beck’s eyelids closed. His head tilted back. And I swore I heard him groan out in anger.

TWENTY-ONE

Beck

“He’s a venture capitalist and private equity investor. To turn the companies around or build them—whatever the case is—he keeps the marketing in-house. That’s where I come in.”

As I stared at Jolie in our locker room, I remembered the conversation we’d had about her father, a man whose name I didn’t know until now. At that time, I’d been interested in what he did for a living and her role in his company, given that I personally backed many of The Weston Group projects and considered myself a bit of a private equity investor.

But never had I thought the Whales would sell or that Mark would become the new owner of the team.

Or that his daughter—a woman I’d become fucking obsessed with—would be our head of marketing.

Head, manager, controller—whatever her title was, it was just a word. The reality was that she was Mark’s daughter, which automatically made her an owner as well.

And that meant …

Jolie had just become my fucking boss.

A point continuously driven into my brain while I fixated on her.