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He takes over. “The no-fraternization policy needs to be voided.”
“Out of the question.” CJ retorts. His father doesn’t disagree with him.
“Then I’m afraid I will be continuing to breach my contract.”
“Corey,” I gasp. “You can’t!”
He continues without pause, “I will not play another game for the Lonestars until Carlee gets her job back.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. This is ridiculous. Corey’s performance has been repairing his reputation, but the mark left by the Loons hasn’t been erased. He needs to do well this year and re-sign with the Lonestars next year or his career could be over.
Mr. Wilson’s face turns red, but it’s his son who says, “If you don’t play, you won’t get paid.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, CJ, but I live a relatively modest lifestyle for what I make. Money means very little to me. It’s Carlee that matters.” He shifts his attention to Mr. Wilson. “And you said it yourself, Carlee is good at her job. She shouldn’t be fired for being my girlfriend.”
My heart flips at the endearment.
Not the time.
“Her relationship with you will inevitably affect her work,” the owner counters.
“Iamher work,” Corey replies. “Your organization assigned her the task of repairing my tainted public image. And guess what? It worked.”
Avery clears her throat delicately. “It’s true. Ms. Jones’s work on Corey’s social media accounts has played a significant role in turning around public opinion, specifically about his trade to the Lonestars. Just like you wanted.”
I hold my breath as I watch the owner mull over what they’ve said. He rubs his chin, and I start to believe he may actually change his mind.
“Surely Ms. Jones isn’t taking credit for your pitching performances?” CJ scowls, disrupting the quiet contemplation that hovers over the room.
I’ve never been prone to violence, but even a pacificist would be tempted to punch CJ in the face.
A shadow falls over Corey’s features, and his irritated glare fills with fury. Mr. Wilson intervenes before the pitcher can act on his anger. “That’s quite enough, CJ. I’ll do the talking from now on.”
The nepo baby bristles, but he shuts his mouth.
Mr. Wilson leans forward, laces his fingers together, and rests his elbows on the desk. “I appreciate what you’re saying,Corey. Truly, I do. As a man, I respect it. But as the owner of the team you play for, I can’t be pressured into bending the rules. I’m sorry.”
“I understand.” Corey rises to his feet. He holds out a hand for me to take. “Come on, Carlee.”
My legs are unsteady as I grab his hand and stand. I give him a questioning look, wondering what he’s playing at, but he gives me nothing.
“Where are you going?” Mr. Wilson asks with a furrowed brow.
“We’re leaving.” Corey gently tugs me towards the door. Avery stands to follow.
“Wait.”
Corey stops when he hears Mr. Wilson’s flustered command.
He turns, keeping my hand tucked in his, and meets the owner’s gaze. “Yes?”
“If you do this, you won’t play ball again. Your reputation will be ruined.”
“I’ll survive.” Corey tugs me towards the door.
My heart pounds with disbelief. I can’t believe this is happening. Guilt doesn’t even begin to convey the depths of how I feel about being the cause of Corey losing his dream job.
Maybe that’s how he feels about you losing yours…
