10. Marissa

The excitement in my chest swells as the plane touches down at Atlanta’s airport. I’ve spent the whole plane ride imagining my future, a future running my own sports agency with a roster of athletes — maybe Charlie will even still be one of them.

When I look over at Charlie, though, the smile falls off my face. He’s glowering straight ahead, his brow furrowed.

“Hey.” I cock my head at him. “You okay?”

“Just a little nervous.” He scrubs his face.

“It’ll be good. Don’t worry.”

I’m not going to tell him that I barely slept a wink last night. As his agent, I need to project an air of calm confidence. It’s up to me to keep this show together.

“Thanks.” He manages a small smile before we stand up and gather our bags from the overhead compartment.

Exiting the plane, I feel a surge of excitement. Despite how nervous I feel, meeting with the Storms’ rep is going to be a game-changer. Who knows? Maybe we’ll even get an offer today.

As we walk through the bustling airport, people begin to recognize Charlie. A few excited fans approach, asking for pictures, while others shout out snide comments. I notice Charlie’s jaw tightening, so I slip my hand into his, offering silent support. We’re supposed to look like a happy couple, after all.

“Hey, Elwood! You screw up any more games lately?” someone yells from across the terminal, causing Charlie’s grip on my hand to tighten.

“Smile,” I murmur under my breath, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

He forces a grin, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I know he’s hurting, but we have to keep up appearances. If he loses his cool, everything we’re building up here will come crashing down.

“Can we get a picture with you, Charlie?” a young man asks, rushing over to us.

There’s a woman at his side, and she looks over the moon. They don’t seem to care about the recent scandal; they’re only interested in getting a snapshot with their favorite athlete. Seeing that warms my heart. For every person out there who ridicules Charlie, there’s probably someone else who still supports him.

“Of course,” he says, and for the first time today, I see what is probably a genuine smile.

I step back, allowing them to pose with him. As they take the photo, Charlie lights up even more. It’s clear that he loves being with his fans, and that’s good. It makes great press.

“Thanks so much!” The woman watches with bright eyes as Charlie and I walk away.

I wonder how often he gets approached by young women like that, and if he’s ever hooked up with any of them.

I push the thought away. The past is none of my business. I only need to concern myself with what Charlie does from here on out — and only thinking as his agent, not his girlfriend.

Stepping outside the airport, the warm Georgia air wraps around us like an embrace. A sleek black car waits just a few feet away, the driver holding up a sign with my name on it.

“There we are.” I point and head for the car.

“Never expected a chauffeur,” Charlie mutters, his eyes scanning the crowd for any more hecklers. “I thought those days were gone.”

“Part of the job,” I reply, squeezing his hand as we approach the driver. “Marissa White and Charlie Elwood,” I confirm.

The man nods and opens the back door for us.

Once settled in the plush leather seats, I glance at Charlie, who seems to be lost in thought. The car pulls away from the curb, and I decide it’s time to address the elephant in the room.

“Look, I know that was rough in the airport, but trust me, it’ll get better,” I say gently, my words filled with genuine belief. “Soon enough, all this will calm down, and you’ll be an all-American hero once again.”

“Thanks.” His eyes meet mine. There’s something different in his expression — vulnerability, perhaps. “I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you right now.”

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard, and a sudden warmth spreads across my cheeks. I clear my throat, forcing myself to look away.

It’s silly, really, to develop a tiny crush on my client. But I have to stay focused and remain professional. My career comes first, and besides, Charlie’s known for being a serial dater.

Remembering that is good for me. It helps to keep my thoughts about my client pure and uncomplicated.

The car rolls through Atlanta’s bustling streets, and I seize the opportunity to coach Charlie on what to expect in the meeting.

“So, Patrick is the rep we’re meeting,” I explain, my fingers tapping rhythmically on the leather armrest. “He’ll probably ask you about your recent scandal and how you plan to change your image going forward.”

“Right.” He nods, his gaze focused on me. “I need to show them I’m serious about turning over a new leaf.”

“Exactly. Be genuine and honest. People can spot a fake from miles away.” I pull my tablet from my bag and open the notes I’ve typed for the meeting. “You might also get questions about your previous fights. Just remember to stay calm and collected. Don’t let any of their questions rattle you.”

“Got it,” he says, a determined glint in his eyes. “Stay cool under pressure.”

“Lastly, don’t forget that we’re supposed to be a couple.” I chuckle at the absurdity of our situation. “So, act affectionate. Hold hands, stand close together, smile at each other… you know the drill.”

“Understood.” He nods once, completely professional.

Which is a relief. Gone is the playboy who was flirting with me at our first meeting. In his place is a man who is serious about his career.

Of course, I do miss the playboy a little bit…

“It’s our time to shine.” My pulse races with excitement and anxiety as our car pulls up to the Storms’ offices.

Stepping out of the car, we’re greeted by the imposing glass building that houses the team’s headquarters. A sudden breeze whips through my hair as we stride towards the entrance, hand in hand like the perfect couple we’re pretending to be. I keep my head high despite the butterflies fluttering wildly in my stomach.

“Marissa White and Charlie Elwood, here to see Patrick,” I announce to the receptionist, who flashes us a friendly smile. “He’s expecting us.”

“Of course.” She gestures towards a set of sleek double doors. “Patrick’s office is just through there.”

“Thank you.” I nod graciously before guiding Charlie through the doors.

Inside, we find Patrick lounging comfortably in an armchair, a steaming cup of coffee resting on the table beside him. His face lights up when he sees us, and he stands to greet us with a firm handshake and a warm smile.

“Marissa! Charlie! It’s great to finally meet you both,” he exclaims, his voice booming with enthusiasm. “I’ve been following your career for a while now, Charlie — impressive stuff!”

“Thank you.” Charlie flashes his trademark grin. “I’m just doing what I love.”

“Ah, aren’t we all?” Patrick chuckles, waving us toward the plush seating area. “Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”

“Not for me, thank you.” I settle into the chair across from Patrick.

It feels like everything is going smoothly so far, but I know that won’t last long. The real challenge — proving that Charlie is worth the Storms’ investment — still lies ahead.

“All right. Let’s get down to business, shall we?” Patrick suggests, clasping his hands together.

“Sounds great.” My heart rate speeds up as Patrick leans forward, his gaze fixed on Charlie.

“Let’s talk about your recent scandal,” he says, his tone serious but not unkind. “We need to make sure you’re turning over a new leaf, like Marissa here promised.”

Charlie gives me a quick glance before nodding. “I am. And having Marissa by my side, both as my agent and girlfriend, has been a huge support in making those changes.”

Patrick nods, seeming satisfied with the answer. But I know he won’t let it go that easily. There are too many questions, too many doubts for him to simply take us at our word.

“What about that fight?” he asks, leaning back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “If we sign you, how will we know you won’t do something like that again?”

I hold my breath, waiting for Charlie to respond with the carefully rehearsed answers we’d practiced in the car. But instead, he surprises me.

“Everyone’s so quick to judge, but they don’t know the real story behind what happened,” he snaps, his jaw clenched.

My jaw drops. What the hell is he doing?

I can see the frustration building in his eyes, and I know I have to intervene before things spiral out of control.

“Charlie—” I begin, trying to cut in with a calm, measured response.

“No, Marissa,” he interrupts, his voice rising. “I want to speak for myself.”

I’m taken aback by his sudden defiance. We’re supposed to be working together, presenting a united front. Instead, we’re bickering like children. I can practically hear our chances of success slipping away with every heated word exchanged between us.

But what am I supposed to do? Snap back at him? Interrupt and speak for him?

“Go ahead,” I say.

Charlie glowers at me. “I know what to say.”

“Then why am I here?” I glare daggers at him.

Patrick’s expression curdles as he watches Charlie and me bicker. I feel my heart drop to my stomach, knowing our facade is crumbling.

“That fight wasn’t my fault.” Charlie crosses his arms. “Everywhere I go, people are heckling me. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

Patrick remains quiet, watching him. Meanwhile, I can hardly breathe. This isn’t how this meeting is supposed to go at all.

“And what?” Charlie asks, his voice rising. “I’m just supposed to put up with it? What would you do, huh, if someone came at you like that? Turn the other cheek, or whatever way people want to put it? Again and again? I’d like to see you and anyone else try.”

I close my eyes. Why is he being so defensive? I prepped him on what to say to this sort of question. He’s supposed to keep his cool and promise that he’ll be doing things differently from now on.

But he’s going completely off-script. He’s taking this as an opportunity to preach from his soap box.

“I’d think about the consequences of my actions,” Patrick says slowly. “Especially if I had a multi-million-dollar football contract hanging on the line.”

“Right.” Charlie’s face contorts. “So because I get paid a lot of money, I’m supposed to be an angel? I can’t be human?”

I clear my throat loudly. “What Charlie means is?—”

“I mean exactly what I said,” he cuts in.

My inhale burns. “Charlie…”

“What’s your real story?” Patrick looks back and forth between the two of us. “So you’re dating, but you also happen to be his agent? How did that happen?”

From the look on his face, I can tell that he’s doubting this whole situation. Maybe he even suspects that our relationship is fake.

I plaster a smile on my face. “It’s a funny story.”

“No one else in the world would talk to me.” Charlie’s laugh is boisterous and sarcastic. “Marissa took pity on me.”

I shoot him a sharp look, but he doesn’t care. At this point, it seems he’s actively trying to sabotage this meeting.

“You two don’t seem very in love to me,” Patrick comments.

I grit my teeth and force a smile, trying my best to salvage the situation. “We’re just passionate about our work,” I say, giving Charlie’s hand a squeeze.

“Uh-huh.” Patrick studies us a moment longer, and I can see it in his eyes.

This interview has taken a nosedive. The facade we’ve carefully crafted is crashing and burning, and all I can do is sit here and watch it go up in flames.