FAKE DATING MY EX’S TEAMATE

Chapter One

Maya’s POV 

When I walk into Northline Sports Agency, I leave behind the Chicago icy wind clinging to my coat. My nerves eat at me from within, but I don’t let it show. Not when my job, my future, and the safety of my son are all dependent on how today goes.

Two suitcases, a five-year-old asleep at the nanny’s, and no backup plan. That is what I came to this city with. There is no room for mistakes. 

“You can do this, Maya,” I whisper to myself, patting down the non-existent crease on my dress before taking a step forward. 

Inside, the arena smells of wealth and ambition, with the faint smell of sweat clinging to the walls. I take the left into the hallway, like I was instructed via mail. Glass walls mount every corner, and I can hear the sound of heels clicking on the marble ground.

A massive framed poster of the Phantoms’ hockey team hangs on one side of the wall, but I don’t linger on it. 

“Maya Cole?” a voice calls. 

I turn to find a woman in a bodycon pencil skirt and red-bottoms that probably cost more than all I am worth. She angles her head, eyeing me as if trying to decide whether she made the right call bringing me into the team. 

“Yes, ma’am,” I respond, stepping towards her. “Today is my first day.”

That last bit was totally unnecessary, but it is too late to take it back. Not with her dark eyes regarding me intently. I can hear her unsaid words. One wrong move and I am out. 

“I’m Tara, your boss,” she says, her voice echoing around the hallway. “Do not call me ma’am and don’t waste my time with irrelevant updates.”

She turns around, and I follow her into her office. It is the same as every part of the building. A floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Chicago, with the golden hues of the sun bouncing off her desk.

Two files are already waiting on her desk.

“Your role as the Northline’s PR specialist involves cleaning up. In all ramifications.” I don’t like the way she looks at me when she says that. Pointedly. Like, I am going to be doing more than I bargained for. 

Tara points to the file on the left. “Your first client is our golden player, Jax Mercer. He is handsome, so don’t go looking where you ought not to. The last PR specialist had to be sent out because she couldn’t keep her hands and lips to herself. I hope that is sufficient information and warning for you.”

I nod. “Got it.”

No involvement with any of the players. Not that I have any plans of doing that.

Jax sells out the whole arena just by grinning at a camera, which means he is our face. More work for you. There is also a rumor circulating that he has a drug problem. We don’t care if he does. Blurt it out of the narrative.”

I nod again, already thinking of strategies. 

“And he also has a wake of broken hearts after him. The girls never learn how unavailable Jax is. I don’t want that to affect our ticket sales.”

A Playboy, then, with drug problems. It should be easy to stay away from him. 

Tara pushes the file in my direction, and I flip it open. His picture stares back at me. Surfer-blonde hair, with killer eyes and tattoos inked all over his body. He has a smirk on his face that has to be a sin. 

“You have been assigned to fix his reputation,” Tara continues, nudging towards the file. “And yeah, there’s this one. He doesn’t have as many problems as Jax, but players and problems are not too far from each other. We have to always own the narrative.”

She taps the second folder and slides it over to me. “He is our wild card here at Northline. Equally as important as Jax. And the highest investor in here adores him.”

I grab the folder, my fingers already on the edge of the cover. But then, I stop when I see the name.

My pulse suddenly stutters, and my eyes widen. 

Finn Callahan. 

My throat dries and I shake my head, sure I didn’t see clearly the first time, sure there are over one million people bearing the same name.

But when I look into the picture, I know I wasn’t mistaken. He is older, leaner in the jawline, and broader around his shoulders. But it is still him. I recognize those pale green eyes anywhere, their unnerving intensity able to make anyone confess their darkest secrets. 

Tara must have seen something in my stance. “You know him?”

I snap the file closed sharply. Too quickly. “No.” My answer comes out louder than I intended, and Tara gives me a glance that says a little too much. 

“Good,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “Because any history between PR specialists and players is grounds for immediate dismissal. You are meant to clean up scandals, not create one.”

It seems nodding is all I am capable of, but this time, my head feels heavy. 

“You are walking into a high-pressure zone, Maya. The players are complicated, each with their own passion and drives. I won’t babysit you. And like you must have already found out, it is pretty easy for me to send you a termination mail. Understood?”

I swallow hard. “I understand, Tara.” I don’t think I totally do.

“We have a meeting with the board in five. Don’t be late and don’t speak unless you are spoken to.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, getting out from behind her desk and stalking out of the office, hopefully towards the boardroom. As I turn to follow, my body suddenly hits a tall wall, strong and immobile.

The first thing I feel is the warmth emanating from it, and the steady heartbeat that makes me push away at once. My bag slips off my shoulder slightly as my head jerks up.