Chapter 2 of He Humiliated Me, I Crushed His Career

I stood in the hallway, hand hovering over the doorknob. The brass felt freezing against my palm.

Before I could turn it, the private elevator chimed.

Heavy footsteps muffled against the hallway runner.

I stepped backward, leaving the door cracked open.

Kenton pushed through, a massive grin splitting his face. He wore his championship hat backward, a smudge of eye black still smeared across his left cheekbone.

"El! Did you see the madness?" He dropped his leather duffel onto the floor. "The whole city is tearing itself apart for me."

I didn't run to him. I didn't take his jacket.

I picked up my iPad from the console table and shoved it into his chest.

"Explain the Velvet Noir campaign."

He caught the tablet, glancing at the paused frame of him and Seraphina.

"I texted you about this." He tossed the iPad onto a nearby armchair. "It was a split-second call. The reporter ambushed me."

"You don't get ambushed." I crossed my arms. "I prep you for every question. I wrote you three different deflections for the romance rumors."

"Deflections don't sell jerseys, Elowen."

"Since when do you care about lingerie spreads?"

He stepped closer, reaching for my waist. I shifted my weight, forcing his hands to drop.

"Seraphina’s team approached mine yesterday," Kenton argued, his tone hardening. "They offered a joint PR stunt. It doubles my media value overnight."

"You agreed to a contract without your manager?"

"I agreed to a photo shoot." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Come on, don't be like this tonight. I just won the MVP."

I pulled a folded stack of papers from my back pocket. The Velvet Noir pitch deck. Julian had emailed it to me five minutes ago.

I slammed the papers against his chest.

"A six-month exclusive campaign. Joint appearances. Red carpets." I kept my voice flat, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a screaming match. "You call that improvising?"

Kenton looked at the papers, then back at me. His jaw tightened.

"It’s just business."

"You humiliated me on national television."

"No one knows about us!" he shot back. "How can you be humiliated if nobody knows you're mine?"

The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

He sighed, the frustration melting into a practiced look of guilt.

"Look at me, El."

I kept my eyes on the floorboards.

He hooked a finger under my chin, tilting my face up. "Seraphina is a billboard. Nothing more. Her followers will buy my merch, and my fans will watch her movies. That's it."

"You held her waist. You called yourself single."

"Because that's what the script demanded." Kenton reached into his jacket pocket. "I don't care about her. I care about this."

He pulled out a slim, black velvet box.

He snapped it open. A diamond tennis necklace caught the dim hallway light.

"I bought this on the way to the stadium," he murmured, his voice dropping into that smooth register he used for cameras. "For you. Because you're the real reason I got that trophy."

I stared at the sparkling stones.

Five years ago, a gift like this would have made me cry. Now, it just looked like a bribe.

I forced the corners of my mouth upward.

"It's beautiful," I lied.

"Turn around."

I presented my back to him. The cold metal settled against my collarbone. The clasp clicked shut, sealing the deal.

"See?" Kenton kissed the side of my neck. "You're the only one I come home to. Seraphina means absolutely nothing to me."

I turned around and gave him the exact smile I taught him to use on sponsors.

"I believe you."

Relief washed over his features. He cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders back.

"Thank God. I'm exhausted." He grabbed his duffel. "I'm hitting the shower. Order us some food?"

"Sure."

I watched him walk down the hall. The bathroom door shut. The shower turned on.

My smile vanished.

I walked over to the armchair and picked up his leather bag.

He never packed his own gear. I always did it. I knew exactly which pocket held his tape, which held his cleats, and which held his wallet.

I unzipped the main compartment.

The scent of turf grass and sweat hit my nose. I dug past his dirty jersey and towel.

My fingers brushed against something small, smooth, and metallic.

I pulled it out.

A gold tube. Heavy. Expensive.

I twisted the cap off.

Crimson red.

The exact shade Seraphina wore on the jumbotron tonight.

I rolled the bottom of the tube. The lipstick was worn down to a sharp angle. It had been used heavily.

I stared at the red wax. My chest didn't hurt. My heart didn't race. Instead, a chilling calm settled over my skin.

The water shut off down the hall.

Footsteps approached. Kenton strolled into the living room, a towel wrapped around his waist, drying his hair with another.

"Did you get the pizza?" he asked.

I held up the gold tube.

He stopped walking. The towel paused on his head.

"What is this, Kenton?"

He blinked, his eyes darting from the lipstick to my face.

"Makeup," he said slowly.

"I know what it is. I want to know why it's buried under your cleats."

"I don't know." He tossed the small towel onto the sofa. "Must have fallen in there."

"Fallen in?"

"Yeah." He walked toward the kitchen, avoiding my gaze. "Seraphina was in the locker room after the game. She probably dropped it, and it rolled into my bag. Total coincidence."

"She dropped a hundred-dollar lipstick, and it perfectly zipped itself into your side pocket?"

Kenton grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. He twisted the cap off with entirely too much force.

"I'm not doing this again, Elowen."

"Doing what?"

"The paranoid girlfriend routine!" He slammed the plastic bottle onto the granite counter. Water sloshed over the edge. "I just won the biggest game of my life. I gave you diamonds. I told you I love you. Why are you trying to ruin my night?"

I walked over to the kitchen island. I placed the red lipstick right next to his spilled water.

"I'm not ruining anything."

"Good." He took a long drink, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Because I'm tired of defending myself over nothing."

"You're right," I said softly. "It must be a coincidence."

He stopped drinking. Suspicion narrowed his eyes.

"You believe me?"

"Why wouldn't I?" I tilted my head. "You said she's just a billboard. A billboard wouldn't leave her personal items in your duffel bag on purpose, right?"

"Exactly." He relaxed a fraction, leaning against the counter. "She's messy. Her whole team is a disaster. They leave crap everywhere."

"Did she leave anything else?" I asked.

"What?"

"In the locker room. Did she leave anything else for you to carry?"

"No." Kenton scowled. "Why are you interrogating me?"

"I'm just trying to understand the timeline." I traced the edge of the gold tube with my fingernail. "The game ended at ten. The interview was at ten-thirty. When did she have time to open your bag?"

"I don't track her every move, El."

"But you track yours." I picked up the lipstick again. "Your bag was locked in your private stall. Only you have the code."

Kenton's face flushed. The red crept up his neck.

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"I'm asking a question about a code."

"I left it open!" He threw his hands up. "I was celebrating. People were spraying champagne. The locker was open. Anyone could have thrown it in there."

"Anyone."

"Yes."

"So Seraphina just happened to wander over to your specific stall, drop her signature shade of lipstick, and leave without you noticing."

"Yes!" he shouted. "Christ, Elowen. You are suffocating me."

I didn't flinch at his volume. I just stared at him.

"Suffocating you," I repeated.

"Yeah." He dragged a hand down his face. "I work my ass off for us. I build this empire for us. And the second I get a little spotlight, you try to drag me down."

"I built the empire, Kenton."

"I throw the passes!"

"And I make sure no one finds out about the DUIs, the gambling, and the girls."

His jaw dropped. He stepped forward, closing the distance between us.

"Watch your mouth," he warned, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

I didn't back away. I looked up into the eyes of the man I had protected for five years.

"Or what?" I asked. "You'll fire me? You'll break up with me?"

He glared at me, his chest heaving.

"You need me," he sneered. "Without my career, you're just another glorified assistant."

The words hung in the air, sharp and poisonous.

I smiled. A real, genuine smile.

"Okay," I said.