Page 88 of Playing the Field

The policy only prohibits relationships between players, team doctors, and other colleagues.

Nothing about the team owner.

I run a hand down my face, sitting back in my chair.

That means whatever happens between me and Anastasia—officially—isn’t a violation of her contract.

It doesn’t mean people won’t talk.

It doesn’t mean this won’t still be a problem.

But it means the only reason she’s being considered for this permanent position is because of her work.

Not me.

Not us.

And I can work with that.

The door to my office opens, and Brooke walks in, looking far too put-together for someone I dragged into a six-thirty meeting.

She crosses her arms, leveling me with a look. “This better be good.”

I slide the contract across the desk. “Anastasia’s offer.”

Brooke lifts a brow but doesn’t sit. “You’re really doing this?”

“She’s the best person for the job,” I say simply.

She studies me for a long moment before exhaling and sinking into the chair opposite me. “So what’s the play?”

I lean forward, resting my forearms on the desk. “We control the narrative. We get ahead of the rumors before they spin out of control.”

She lifts a brow. “You’re going public?”

I nod. “The truth, Brooke. You, me, and the team’s PR department—we spin this exactly how it happened.”

She smirks. “Which is…?”

I exhale slowly.

“Anastasia and I met while I was in Cape Town. We connected there—before either of us knew she’d be working for me.”

Brooke watches me carefully.

“We reconnected in Toronto, and yeah, we tried to keep things private, but that became harder once I took over the team. I’ve been under more scrutiny since stepping into this position, and that put us in a difficult spot.”

Her smirk fades. “You’re really serious about her.”

I don’t hesitate. “Yeah.”

Brooke sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You know this is still going to be a mess, right?”

“I know.”

“Reporters will twist it. People will talk. Some fans are still pissed you bought this team in the first place, and this—this—will only give them more fuel.”

“I know,” I say again.