Synopsis
Fox
There are only three things in life I’m passionate about: my family, sports, and hating Archer Holloway.
He’s the most prolific associate at the firm and out earns everyone at our level. Plus, he’s annoyingly good-looking and is somehow able to charm everyone. Everyone except me.
His athlete roster might be impressive, but his tactics for signing clients can be questionable at best.
So, when the chance arises to stealthily pitch to someone he’s gunning for, I don’t hesitate.
Two can play at this game.
Archer
I don’t understand why Lincoln Fox hates me. Okay, so maybe I signed a few athletes he was pursuing, but that’s not personal. It’s business.
I really do think he’d come to like me if he got to know me. He won’t give me the time of day though. He never has. Which is a shame because Fox is the most attractive man I’ve ever met.
The more he argues with me, the more everyone around us thinks there’s a spark between us. The office pool is over two thousand dollars now, but they’re backing the wrong horse. No one will win this bet because the chance of us hooking up are less than zero. Fox will never see me as anything more than an over-competitive jerk. What a waste of money.
Excerpt
I enter Archer’s office without knocking, which I wouldn’t normally dream of doing to anyone because it’s disrespectful, but I’d have to respect Archer to care about that.
Archer has his bleach-blond head buried in his screen, a smile on his plump lips, and his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows to show off his tattoos. They’re also peeking out above his top button too.
I hate those tattoos. Hate that my gaze is always drawn to them. Hate that I want to see what the ink is that’s hidden by his button-up shirt. But mostly I hate them because I find tattoos irresistibly hot on a man, and these tattoos are on a man who doesn’t deserve them. They’re too good for his skin.
Archer lifts his head and then tilts it to the side like a dog. “What are you here to yell at me for this time?”
I wish I could say I come to his office for other reasons and had a right to be mad at that greeting, but I don’t. On either account.
“This.” I throw one of my business cards at his desk. It misses, and I internally sigh. Because god forbid I look cool while throwing something for once in my life. I step closer and pick it up, placing it in front of him this time with a firm hand. “What the hell is this supposed to mean, and why would you do it? Are you serious or purely delusional?”
Archer picks up the card and chuckles. Legit, lets out an immature chuckle like someone just said sixty-nine and he can’t help himself. “I mean, the thought of you marrying me is pretty funny.”
“What is your issue with me? Are you playing childhood games to get me to blow up at you in front of everyone and get fired? Stooping to sabotage so you can sign all of my clients to your roster? If you need to do this shit to get accounts, you’re not as charming as you think. Whatever you have against me, let it go. I’m not going anywhere.”
Archer puts his hand on his heart and says in the driest tone to ever exist, “It’s hurts so much that you don’t want to be the next Camden and Xavier of this office. It hurts so bad.”
I grunt and go to lose my shit at him even more when he beats me.
“It wasn’t me, jackass. Do you really think I’d spell my name wrong on my own cards?” He takes one of his cards out of the box sitting on his desk and slides it over to me.
Archer Halloway
Competitive PITA
His last name has an A instead of an O in Holloway. He makes a good point, but maybe that’s to throw everyone off so he doesn’t get in trouble for pranking my business cards. Make himself look like a victim too.
“At least yours is true,” I mumble.
He laughs for real this time.
“But it also doesn’t mean you didn’t have—"
“Also, you might want to check your work email.”
Uh-oh.
Swallowing hard, I pull my phone out of my pocket and open the inbox I’ve been ignoring since I first saw my new business card.
From: Damon King
Subject: Check your business cards
Hi all,
Due to a recent security breach, our legal team requires you to check your most recent batch of business cards handed out this week. We’ve had numerous reports of misprints, so please make sure yours have your correct title on them and email me if they do not.
On an unrelated note, please be careful who you let inside King Sports properties, both in New York and the LA offices. Also be aware that Maddox O’Shay and Stacy King are no longer allowed to set foot on either premises.
Regards,
Damon King.
King Sports CEO.
The email is so random it’s difficult to understand that it was Damon’s partner and sister responsible for this.
Damon King is a fascinating man. He’s so put together and runs a multi-million-dollar empire, yet he’s surrounded by immaturity. How does he deal with it? I’m struggling hard.
“I’ll take that apology whenever you’re ready,” Archer says.
I take my eyes off my phone to glare at him. “I don’t understand though.”
“Understand that a harmless prank could have been carried out by anyone but me?”
“No. I don’t get why?” These people don’t actually think Archer and I would make a good couple, do they?
“Why, what?”
“Why does mine say I should become your husband but yours is work related?”
“Would you still have thought it was me if it was work related? Or only because it was practically a marriage proposal if it came from me? Think highly of yourself, huh?”
“Yes! Wait, no. Yes, I still would’ve thought it was you if it was work related, but seeing as it wasn’t you and it was the boss’s partner, what have Camden and Xavier been telling Damon for Maddox to think you and I getting married would even be a remote possibility? It’s offensive.”
“It was a joke,” he says. “It’s probably because everyone knows how much you hate me for being better than you.”
“Yes, that’s the reason you drive me crazy. Absolutely has nothing to do with you sniping prospective clients right out from underneath me.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
This man is impossible.
“Either way, it’s still offensive.”
“Well, I take offense to your offense. I’m a catch. You’d be lucky to have me.”
“And you would need a miracle to have me.”
Archer leans back in his seat. “I’d take it as a compliment, if I were you.”
“What, because you’re so out of my league that—”
He puts up his hand to stop me from talking, and it’s so fucking rude. “No. It’s a compliment because they couldn’t find anything wrong when it comes to your work ethic, so they had to make shit up.”
I hesitate. Is … is that true?
“Hence, compliment.”
I’d hate to agree with Archer for once, but seeing it from that angle—
“Plus, they’re probably playing into the whole bet thing.”
Bet thing? “What bet?”
Archer’s brow scrunches, but he quickly smooths it out. “You haven’t heard?”
“Unlike others in this office, I try to stay away from gossip.”
“Then maybe you should ask around.”
Why is he like this? “I’m asking you.”
