Page 15 of The Game
“Well, you know how I told you I haven’t been able to get with anyone lately, since my days have been crazy busy? When I opened the door, I whistled at Sarah, assuming she was an escort you sent to get me out of my misery.”
Noah starts laughing hysterically, which is annoying, but I can’t blame the fucker. He’s not the idiot here, at least not today.
“Ah, hell, man. How did she react to that?” I smile, thinking back to the fire in her eyes and how she put me in my place.
“First of all, she slapped me across the face before letting me know exactly who she was and how she certainly wasn’t an escort.”
This only makes Noah laugh even harder.
I usually don’t support physical harm, but I can’t really blame Sarah for her anger.
“Good for her. I’m proud.” Noah tells me, and I’m reminded again how acquainted he sounds about her.
“You’ve met her a lot?” I try to keep my tone casual, but he sees straight through my shit.
“What, jealous McGregor? After what you just pulled, I’m sure you’re last in line for the Sarah train, and believe me, there is a line.”
Fucking hell.
Obviously, the other guys on the team see her beauty just as well as I do.
Noah continues.
“Not that the line will ever shorten. Sarah has made it clear she’s here to do her job and doesn’t seem affected by any of our advances.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, I’m not sure why.
I get a notification on my phone: my agent, Derek, is asking how the meeting with Sarah went, and I groan.
I should probably tell Derek to reschedule if she even wants to see me again—probably not.
“Look, man, you’ll survive, and let’s be real, once in a while it’s nice to have your ego checked.” Noah chuckles.
“Yeah, whatever, I should probably get back to work. See you at the rink later.” I tell him, and we hang up.
We have practice at the arena later today, and part of me is hoping I’ll run into Sarah, maybe get a chance to make this mess right.
Chapter 4
Sarah
I’m furious as I leave the hotel of the powerful Alexander McGregor.
It turned into a memorable meeting, just not in the way I expected.
What an asshole, thinking I’m an escort?! Not that there’s anything wrong with being an escort, but still.
How could he jump to that conclusion?
For what feels like the millionth time since I stormed off, I look down at my outfit.
I’m wearing one of my power jumpsuits. And while I agree it’s more on the daring side of my stylish wardrobe, it’s still very professional.
It’s not like I was standing in that hallway in my trench coat and underwear, even though I might as well have been with the looks Alexander McGregor was giving me.
At first, I was stunned by his initial interest and curious gaze.
When it became clear how genuinely interested he was, I quickly recovered and suppressed any desire or interest in the man.
