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Chapter One
LACEY
"So, that's it, then? You just bailed?"
I resist rolling my eyes at Talia, my closest friend, especially after I've just quit my latest job.
Making a face wouldn't even matter—she wouldn't see it anyway.
Not while we're in the middle of the Seattle Storm's massive baseball stadium, and she's too busy ogling the players' ripped bodies.
"I didn't bail," I sigh. "I resigned. There's a difference. And Alton gets it. Heck, we're here because of him. You can thank my old boss for these amazing seats so close to the field you can almost smell the players' sweat."
"And admire the bulge of each vein on their forearms," she grins.
I can't help but grin back.
It's a perfect night for a game—the city lights sparkle brighter, and the early summer air feels warm. Since meeting Talia, an event planner for the team, at a charity event thrown by my old boss, Seattle publishing billionaire Alton Anderson, I've been to a handful of games.
But tonight feels different.
Maybe it's the freedom after quitting my job as Alton's nanny, or possibly because my potential new employer is here, somewhere in this stadium.
The Seattle skyline stretches before us, the inky sky dotted with metal and steel. Below, the city buzzes—traffic hums, bars play music, blending with the scent of beer, hot dogs, and freshly cut grass as the Storm's pitcher winds up.
Inhaling deeply, it's clear—if there's anywhere to be unemployed, it's Seattle. But the city's beauty can't pad my bank account or silence Mami's voice in my head.
“Una niñera. Que maluco, Larissa,” she'd scoffed, her Colombian accent thickening. "Your father didn't sacrifice his health so you could be a babysitter, mija."
Rolling my eyes, I try to ignore her voice, focusing instead on Talia—glowing in her rich, toffee-brown skin, her sleek caramel locks flowing down her back, completely dialed into the game. That is, until she nudges me, almost making me spill my tasteless beer.
"Did Alton mention who might be hiring you?"
"He didn’t," I reply. "Says he wants to protect the guy's privacy. Alton's well-connected in Seattle. He got us these game tickets so I could meet this new client. We'll connect the dots from there."
As we're piecing together this puzzle, Ayo lands in the seat next to Talia, sending popcorn flying like confetti.
"Job talk, huh? And here I thought y’all were plotting a VIP sneak-in!"
Ayo, who often caters for the Storm, is our third musketeer. Talia, ever focused, turns to her.
"We're figuring out Lacey's leap from courtrooms to playrooms. Seems like the nanny gig's client might be someone from the team.”
Ayo's eyes widen. "You're going through with it? Even after the?—"
"The fashion internship fell through," I admit, "and Alton's found my replacement. So, now he's hooking me up with a 'friend.' No idea who it is, but they're meeting me after the game."
"And we're trying to guess who it could be," Talia whispers.
Ayo squeals. "Oooh, you didn't tell us that it was a mystery man! I want in on this.”
The crowd erupts as another run is scored, the stadium's noise swelling, offering me a momentary escape. I sip my beer—it's as awful as ever. As the fans lose it, Ayo, flipping her stunning blue braids, squints at the field. She's looking fly in her game day gear, her dark brown skin practically radiating under the stadium lights.
"So, which player could it be?"
"Who knows?" I scan the field of athletic figures in snug uniforms. "Many team players are traditionalists—married with kids almost as soon as they sign their contracts."
“Maybe it’s Avery Johnson?” She eyes the player, known for his off-field antics and multiple relationships. “He’s got, what, seven kids?"
