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Chapter One
ATLAS
Win a date with a hockey star?
Win a date with Atlas…?
Win a date with me?
I considered kicking down Tucker’s door, but instead threw it open and stormed toward his desk.
The way he jumped up and put his hands slightly out told me this wasn’t the first time someone did this kind of thing.
Which didn’t shock me.
Tucker Tarmelo had been my agent for my entire hockey career.
He was a slimeball the day I met him, but all I cared about was getting a pro contract and proving myself in this league.And making a ton of money in the process.
Which I did.
I proved myself.
I made a ton of money.
Was I a superstar that kids begged their parents to get a jersey with my name on it?
No.
Did diehard hockey fans line up outside the arena before a game with pictures and posters of me, screaming my name, wanting that illusive autograph session?
No.
But I was the guy who threw the first punch, took a hit or two, and always threw the last punch on the ice. I was the guy that could take an otherwise boring game and turn it into something wild and violent. I was the guy who could change the entire vibe of a game with one punch or hit.
People cheered for me on the ice because I was safely contained there.
Only right now I wasn’t on the ice.
By the time I reached Tucker’s desk, he had leaned back and lifted his right leg up.
Tucker didn’t have the dexterity to actually lift his leg high enough to expose his foot. And to attempt to kick me? Not a chance in hell.
My left hand shot across the desk and I grabbed the front of his expensive shirt.
I pulled him toward the desk.
“Atlas, you can’t do-”
My right hand connected with Tucker’s mouth, ending his sentence.
It wasn’t even a hard punch - at least not for me.
Tucker wasn’t tough.
He wore a suit, talked a big game, and knew how to get things done for his clients.
So why was I punching the guy who made me rich?
