Page 127 of Face Off With Fate

“You want me to stop, baby?” The smile was clear in my voice.

She reached for her wine again. “I want you to behave.”

“I am behaving.” I traced one slow line up the inside of the slit, dipping in toward her inner thighs, loving how the column of her throat moved as she swallowed. “You want to know what I’m going to do later?”

“No.”

“I’m going to peel this dress off you.” I kept my voice even, like I was talking about the weather. “Take my time with it. And then I’m going to put my mouth on that pretty cunt of yours and not come up until you’ve come on my tongue.”

The wine glass made a small, sharp sound as she set it down.

Across the table, Ariella glanced over. Graciella smiled at her.

The second she looked away, Graciella turned to me, flames dancing.

“Now who’s the brat? Quit teasing me, Monroe, we cannot get caught fucking in the storage closet,” she said under her breath.

Says who?

But I chose the other thought running through my mind. “You look beautiful tonight.”

Her expression softened at the edges, mouth falling open.

“Coach Monroe.” One of the event staff appeared at my elbow, leaning down. “They’re ready for you.”

I nodded, pushing back from my chair.

Graciella’s hand found my wrist under the table. “You deserve this. They’re honoring a worthy man tonight.”

Her words sat warm and tender on my chest. I nodded, aware that if I’d tried to speak, it would be thick with emotion.

I stood, straightened my jacket, and left her warmth to cross the ballroom toward the stage.

FORTY-TWO

GRACIELLA

WHEN THE SAXOPHONES JUST KEEP GETTING LOUDER…

Monroe was at the podium. The room was silent, all eyes trained on him.

I rested my elbow on the table and watched him.

His dark suit looked like it’d been sewn onto his body, broad shoulders taking up every inch of the black fabric. He stood with his chin tipped high. The only thing giving away his nerves was the white knuckles clenching the Lucite podium.

“I’ve been coaching for a while now,” he said, his voice carrying through the room with ease. “Long enough to know that the job isn’t what most people think it is. People think it’s about strategy, getting the right guys on your roster or making the numbers work.” A beat. “Okay, to upper management, that last one is a non-negotiable,” he said, gracing the audience with a sly smile.

Laughter rippled through the tables near the front.

“But the part nobody talks about, nobody sees...” He looked down like he was collecting his thoughts. “The twenty-year-old kid sitting across from you in your office, who’s terrified of disappointing others. And you want to know the truth?”

The room was very still.

“Truth is, I’m the one terrified every single time. Every player that sits across from me is my responsibility. They give me something I didn’t earn. They trust me before I’ve proven I deserve it. And I spend every moment trying to be worth that.” He paused, rapping a knuckle on the clear top and letting out a little laugh. “I got asked once how I learned to handle a responsibility like that. Truth is, it was a trial by fire, much like becoming a parent. I am nothing without my daughter, who wakes up every day and she just…she trusts me. And that’s the most terrifying and important thing anyone has ever handed me.”

Someone at the table next to mine made a soft sound. A woman pressing her fingers to her lips.

“So, I treat the trust of my players with the same importance,” Monroe continued, voice strong and sure. “I give them a reason to trust that I’ll have their back, even when no one else does. Not their family, not their friends, not the media.” He paused, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “Sometimes not even the league.”