“Hey, look on the bright side,” Sadie says. “He probably won't even remember you. From what I know about hockey players, they sleep with a lot of women. You're probably just a blur in his memory.”
“Thanks for that confidence boost.”
“I'm being realistic. These guys have groupies throwing themselves at them constantly. One night three months ago?”
“He'll remember.” There's no way in hell Nova doesn't remember that night.
The way he looked at me like I was something he wanted to devour. The way he said my name when he came. The way he held me after. Those aren’t things a person forgets. Fuck boy or not.
My face heats up as the memory of the following morning floods my mind. I had slipped out of his hotel room at five AM, taking one last look at him sprawled across those white sheets.
I'd wanted to stay. God, I'd wanted to curl back up against his chest and see what his morning voice sounded like. But that would have been breaking my own rules, and I don't break rules.
When Jennifer told me who my client was, I'd already signed the contract. Backing out would have ruined my reputation in the industry. Besides, it’s the job of a lifetime. I can’t throw it away because I made one stupid decision in Chicago.
“That was the most stupid thing I’ve ever done,” I say, misery in my voice.
“Stupid?” Sadie's voice rises. “You said it was incredible. You called me the next day, glowing through the phone.”
“It was a mistake. I’m not cut out for one-night stands. I’m an idiot.”
“You're not an idiot. You had incredible sex with a hot stranger. That's called living.” Sadie leans closer to her camera. “Besides, maybe this is fate. The universe is giving you a second chance.”
I’m horrified at the implication. “A second chance at what?”
“At getting laid properly again?” Sadie grins. “You said he was like a god in bed. Maybe you can pick up where you left off.”
“Absolutely not. He's a client now.”
“Your loss.” Sadie shrugs. “So tell me about New York. How are you settling in? Have you checked out the art scene yet?”
I gesture vaguely at my boxes. “I've been busy unpacking.”
“Avery, don’t tell me you haven't even walked around your neighborhood?”
“I've been to the grocery store downstairs and the subway station. That's enough exploring for now.”
Sadie rolls her eyes. “You would know every train schedule and transfer point before you'd notice a single gallery or street mural. You're hopeless.”
She's not wrong. I've already memorized the subway map and timed three different routes to the arena. I know exactly how long my commute will take during rush hour.
“I should go,” I say, checking my watch. “I need to get to the arena.”
“Avery?” Sadie's voice goes softer. “You've got this. You're brilliant at your job, and you don't let anyone intimidate you. Hockey player or not.”
“Thanks.” I end the call and stare at my reflection in the black screen. I look professional in my tailored black blazer and pencilskirt. Everything about my appearance screams competent, untouchable PR executive.
Nothing about my appearance suggests that three months ago, I was naked and writhing beneath Liam's mouth, begging him not to stop. Except, he told me that his name was Nova.
The name that the media has given him. It makes my stomach churn knowing I spent the night with a man who leaves a trail of chaos and headlines in his wake. The articles had laid it all out in excruciating detail. The parties. The women. The scandals. Photo after photo of him leaving clubs with different women.
I’m not that woman. I don’t have one-night stands with famous athletes. I’m Avery Carter. The woman who thinks three steps ahead and never,everloses control.
Except I had. Spectacularly.
And now, three months later, that same supernova is my client. The man I'm supposed to help make respectable and transform his image into a responsible hockey player.
Focus on the present, Avery.
