He's up this time.

JE might've created them, but this plot is all mine.

RPOV

I love my life. I get to play the greatest sport there is, that I'm good at, and get paid really well for it. But, this kind of crazy scrutiny into my personal life was ridiculous. Seriously, why do people care who I spend time with? And now, Steph had been sucked into the drama circus that follows Jeanne around. Getting out this morning without being swarmed by camera wielding nut-jobs had involved Secret Service style maneuvering just for the driver to get the SUV out of the garage. I was never stalked like this my entire career and now that one picture of Steph leaving my building early in the morning got out there, there's reporters milling around the front of my building waiting to take pictures of, what? Did they think that I would drag her into the glass-walled lobby and rip her clothes off? Bend her over the back of one of those weird chairs by the door man's desk that were more sculpture than furniture? Or wait, push her up against the window and fuck her right there?

Hmmmmmm…

I should probably stop trying to come up with scenarios that the vultures might like because I was getting hard. I didn't like the idea of everyone seeing us, that hadn't ever been a turn-on for me. As soon as I'd thought them though, my helpful mind had gone straight to us doing any and all of those things in the privacy of my condo. Especially that last one, the window I had her against was the glass wall of my shower stall and I could see everything in the mirror on the opposite wall.

Damn.

But, sitting next to her at a meeting with her boss specifically to assure him that she was the consummate professional, whilst sporting wood might be slightly contradictory. Given that I could only get loose workout pants over my cast, there'd be no hiding that.

It also pissed me off to no end that she thought, probably correctly, that her colleagues would look at her disdainfully if we were involved. I couldn't decide if remorse for dragging her into this situation or a strengthening protective urge was my most prevalent emotion as we inched through the tunnel heading into the city. Both were sitting pretty damn heavy on my mind when we finally pulled up in front of her office building. Where she was pacing on the sidewalk.

Something I'd noticed about Steph was that she had never been one to really care about flashy expensive clothes. She did, however, have this pair of incredibly sexy boots that I once saw when I took my mom to Barney's a few months ago. I had only recognized them because they had had the same red soles as hers and out of curiosity I picked them up and was shocked at the price tag. She only seemed to wear them when she had a big meeting or deal going down. She had them on now and I had to remind my dick to stand down. Steph was already pretty tall, with those boots on she was within a few inches of my height. Something about that turned me the fuck on.

She caught sight of me right away and ran over. I'd been so caught up with the boots that I hadn't noticed the dress she had on. Goddam, she was dressed to take no prisoners today. Red, slim-fitting dress under a long, black wool coat, add in that footwear and she might as well have been carrying a neon sign blaring 'Do not fuck with me'.

"Babe, holy shit."

She held her hand out to help me from the SUV. "What?"

"You look…" I cast around for the right words. "Like Andrew is going to be sorry he called this meeting." I slowly stepped down. Have I mentioned that I was getting sick of this bad leg thing?

"He will be if he says the wrong thing," she muttered. "How does your leg feel today?" She kept my hand as she reached in the back of the SUV for my crutches. "Where are you parents?"

"We need them?" She smiled and shook her head. "I sent them back to bed. Mom was falling asleep at the kitchen island over her coffee. She was bitching the entire time about time changes, traveling and getting old."

Her smile grew. "I love your mom."

"She loves you too." That smile turned almost shy. She was very close to me, fussing with the crutches and I could smell the coconutty stuff she puts in her hair. The urge to kiss her right then was painfully strong, but I quickly squashed it. Right now was probably the worst possible time to give in to that. "Should we go in?" I asked instead. She looked at me askance, time stretching for a beat.

"Yeah… yes. Do you have anything else in there?" She nodded her head at the SUV.

"My backpack." I moved to reach for it at the same time as she did. We collided again, her breasts sliding against my stomach and chest as she reached past me to get the bag. Fuck, it was like fate was conspiring against me lately. Like no day could pass without feeling her body against mine. This no-having-an-erection-in-a-very-serious-meeting thing was getting harder… harder…

You see? Even my internal monologue was coming from my other head.

She stood straight and slung my backpack over her shoulder. "You really suck at accepting help. Do you know that?"

"Yeah, but then you wouldn't have just dry humped me if I was more gracious." That kind of banter wasn't unusual for us, but her response floored me.

"Sweetheart, if that's dry humping to you, I have a few things I should teach you." She patted my cheek and sauntered off, those heels clicking hypnotically on the granite pavement.

Yeah, I was just going to stand out here in the freezing cold for a while. See if that could calm things down.

She got to the door and turned to see where I was, motioning with her hand for me to follow her and, like the slavish dog I was becoming for her, I obeyed.

"Carlos," Andrew boomed. "I didn't know you were coming today."

Yeah, no shit. He looked seriously unhappy that I was here under that greasy smirk. I never would've signed with this company if it wasn't for Steph. Nearly every other agent here was a glorified pick-pocket. "Thought I should swing by, considering what they're saying about Stephanie in the press."

"Yes, but it's all made up of course," he conceded.

"Of course it is," Steph said walking in behind me and shaking hands with Andrew. It was hard not to snort when she towered over his diminutive frame, his discomfort very evident. I knew she wore those boots for a reason.

We all sat. his office was set up curiously for someone who was trying to charm clients, a lot of whom have rather large egos, into handing over their hard earned salaries in order for him to handle their affairs. Steph had a desk, but hardly ever sat there. She chose to have client meetings in a small sitting area in her office or in a quiet restaurant. It was so much more comfortable than here. He had a large desk and chair, that could only be described as throne-like, with two lower than usual visitor chairs placed in front. Maybe he was trying to appear confident and successful. But, it just came off as 'I'm desperate to be superior to you'. The huge window with the view stretching to lower Manhattan behind him just added to the napoleon complex he had going on. Like he was proclaiming himself emperor of all you could see. Another reason I was glad I was good at something that rarely involved a desk. I couldn't imagine anything more infuriating than office politics and posturing all damn day.

He cleared his throat and looked from me to her. "Well, I, um, wanted to see you this morning because of the things that have been circulating in the press."

Steph snorted, "I'd hardly call TMZ and US Weekly 'the press.'"

"Nonetheless, the rumors are out there and I'm concerned that it will reflect badly on Kratos."

"Really? I thought your philosophy was more that there's no such thing as bad publicity."

"Yes, well we've never had this instance come up. An agent committing career suicide by sleeping with her client while he's practically engaged to one of the biggest movie stars there is right…"

What the fuck? "What?" I've been told that when I'm really pissed I can be kind of frightening. I might've yelled a little too loudly because he actually cowered for a second. "Who do you think you…"

She touched her hand to mine, "Carlos, I got this." I looked at her incredulously for a second. No way was I going to let this smarmy creep threaten her job and talk shit about her right in front of me. To add insult to injury, he thought I would ever marry that… that fucking bitch. There, I said it. My mother would probably smack me for using that word to describe a woman, but it was an apt description. "I got this," she said more firmly.

"Fine." I sat back, trying not to jump over the desk and choke the shit out of this little fucker.

"What you meant to say was that your only female agent has never slept with one of her clients, right? Because it's fairly common knowledge that Dickie slept with that tennis player last year. Do you think his poor wife figured that out yet?"

"Well, that, that was different," he stammered.

"Sure it was. He actually slept with a client. Didn't he get a higher commission rate following that?"

"Um, I don't really know."

"So what are we talking about here? Is it that there's bad publicity about me, your agent, or me, your female agent? Where's the back-slapping for me, Andrew?"

He squirmed in his throne. "Are you accusing me of sexism, Stephanie?"

"That depends on the answer to my question." Man, she was sitting there completely unperturbed, while I was fucking fuming.

"Of course it's not because you're a woman," he insisted.

"Then why are we even here? Did you pull Dickie in here after his transgression?"

The smirk was back, "There was no publicity after that."

"So, it's the appearance of impropriety that bothers you? Not the actual immoral behavior. That's really interesting, Andrew." She tapped her chin contemplatively. Uh-oh, I knew that look. She had dirt on him and she was about to pull it out. "Antonio Smith comes to mind."

He stiffened visibly. "I don't know what you're talking about." He had a shit poker face. He looked like he knew exactly what she was talking about.

Antonio Smith was the super-star quarterback for the New York Jets. He had taken two pretty significant hits to the head at the end of the season, the first one had appeared to shake him up, but he still played the next two games anyway. His play not even half of what it usually was. That second game was his last ever. The subsequent hit knocking him completely unconscious on the field and now had been diagnosed with traumatic brain injury. I heard he couldn't talk at all for the next two weeks and that he still couldn't form a sentence and had to use a walker for his rehab. The reports are that he may improve slightly, but never be his old self again. What this guy had to do with that I couldn't imagine.

"Did you do it?" She asked him quietly.

He shook his head, his mouth open, but no words coming out.

"Do what?" I asked her.

She gave me a we'll talk later look

"No!" He almost yelled. The vehemence of his denial indicating the exact opposite was true.

She just stared at him. No way was I ever giving her up as my agent, but she would've made an excellent litigator.

"I didn't!" He insisted.

She just nodded, her skepticism apparent. "So, we're done here, right? We don't need to discuss this anymore?"

"Yes, we're finished here." He looked relieved that she stood to leave. "Carlos, I'm sorry that you had to come into the city for this."

She offered her hand to help me stand. If she hadn't squeezed my fingers and shot me a warning look, I probably would've swung at the asshole.

"Yeah," I said instead, clumping out of the room behind her.

I bit my tongue all the way to her office. I even managed to wait until her door was shut. "You were magnificent," I gushed. She really had been.

She smiled and looked down. "Yeah, well, I feel totally sleazy. I didn't want to go in there with veiled threats. I haven't done anything to warrant being reprimanded like a child. I also really didn't want to bring up the Smith injury, because any respect I had for my boss just completely evaporated." She sighed and flopped down on the little couch, unzipping her boot, making my mouth water. She pulled it off and dug her thumb into the arch of her foot, groaning in relief.

I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself down. Between the caveman urge to wade in and bang the heads of anyone that would insult her, her total control in that meeting, and the way she lifted one foot over her knee, making her skirt ride up, her smooth, firm thigh showing, I was feeling incredibly… tense.

"You okay?" The chuckle in her voice made my eyes pop open. Thankfully she had put her leg back down.

"Yeah." I sat as she repeated the process with the other foot. An offer to assist with the massage just begging to fall out of my mouth. She really had no clue how sexy she was. Did I mention the dress she had on? She was covered by close-fitting fabric from her collarbones to just below her knees. It had these tiny little sleeves that just covered her shoulders, her long elegant arms, looking very toned and fit. And, it had this zipper that went from collar to hem straight down the back. The trek following behind her from office to office had involved some mental fun.

"Seriously, what's wrong with you today?"

I shook myself out of my Steph induced fog. "Nothing. What was all that about Antonio?"

The smile slipped off her face. She got up and padded barefoot to the door, she flicked the lock and resumed her seat. "I wasn't sure until I said his name to Andrew. Now I'm sure though." She shook her head in disgust. "Remember that under armor ad you did a few weeks ago?"

Ugh, they'd oiled me up and posed me in a freezing cold photography studio for hours in just boxer briefs. "Yeah, you know they ended up using the first shot they took?"

She cleared her throat, "Yeah, they sent me the proofs." Her cheeks were definitely pink now, she didn't have many tells. But that blush was kind of a giveaway.

Focus.

"What about the ad?"

"Well, I had been here taking care of the contract for that and I needed to show Andrew something and I went into his office and caught the tail end of a conversation between him and Smith. He's one of the few players he still represents. I know that they were going to negotiate for an even higher contract for him next season. Mind you he's already the highest paid football player in the NFL."

That much I knew. Our QB was well paid, but Antonio already made $6 million more a season than he did. "How much were they looking for? Shit, they wouldn't have had the cap space."

"I don't know. Andrew would've told the board once it was firmer. The Jets would've dumped a lot of players to keep him. Anyway, I didn't hear much, but I thought it sounded like Andrew told him to play anyway. This was the Thursday after that first sack where his head bounced off the field. I'm guessing that the doctors had cleared him, but it seemed like… I don't know. It seemed like Smith didn't want to play. He said something about being dizzy still." She thought deeply for a minute. "Playing it back now, it seems like that's exactly what happened and I didn't want to think that Andrew would encourage someone to play and conceal that something could be going on still. If he was symptomatic, it's not that uncommon for the diagnostics to miss something. Given Andrew's reaction just now, I'm sure of it."

What an asshole. "How damaging to his salary demands would it have been if he'd sat out the end of the season with a concussion?"

"It wouldn't have been horrific. They probably would've renewed at the rate he's at right now."

"I heard he's not going to recover." I looked down at my leg. My injury was nothing to what Smith had incurred. Yeah, it wasn't exactly something I could've pretended wasn't there, but Steph had been so caring and supportive. Never really even bringing up going back. Her whole focus had been on me getting better, then dealing with things as they came. I can't picture her ever pushing me to do something that could be detrimental to my health. Not ever.

"I'm really lucky to have you, huh?"

She had been deep inside her head and was a little startled when I said that. "What?" Her eyes focused on me. "Oh, yeah, damn straight you're lucky to have me." She cracked a smile but it didn't reach her eyes.

I stood on my good leg and scooted onto the couch next to her. "What are you thinking?"

She heaved a tired sigh. "What do I do with this? I'm not the kind of person to sit on stuff like this. But, what proof do I have? A hunch? Who the hell do I tell?"

"I have no clue, babe." I threw my arm around her shoulder tugging her close like she did for me the other day.

She settled in, laying her cheek against my neck. You have no idea how much it pleased me that she wasn't afraid to show some vulnerability around me. Whenever I've been near her with other people around she's always totally poised. She's the most together person I've ever met. But, over the years, when it was just us, I've gotten to see a softer side. It made me feel trusted.

Right now though, this felt like more than trust.

That took a more serious turn than I had planned, but it felt like the right way to go.

If you need a visual on Steph's outfit, google Felicity & Coco seamed pencil dress on the Nordstrom site. Hers is tango red and I might have to go and buy it because I love it that much. For the boots you can go to the Barney's site and search Christian Louboutin Suede Lady Knee High Platform Boots. At $1495, I wouldn't ever be buying those, but she needed something that would make her very tall and still be work appropriate and I thought those were just kick-ass enough for the purpose.

Let me know what you thought, please?

Thanks for reading,

Love,

EA xoxo