 by Eden Finley.jpg)
Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
After a little mishap in an alleyway with CCTV, my public image needs fixing. Oops?
It might have been a stunt to get the attention of Lane Pierce, San Jose’s new PR manager, but I didn’t realize what the consequences would be when I did it. I’ve got Lane’s sole focus now in all the wrong ways.
LANE
Being appointed head of San Jose’s PR department was a dream come true … until I met Oskar Voyjik.
He may be San Jose royalty, but with the stunts Oskar’s been pulling, the team owner is down to his last thread of patience. Which puts me in the firing line. If I can’t turn Oskar’s entitled party boy image around, we’ll both be shown the door.
I have free rein to do whatever it takes, and it turns out whatever it takes is Oskar.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
ONE
LANE
I stare at my screen, watching the CCTV footage that’s gone viral. The back door of a club opens and spits Oskar Voyjik and two others into the alley. They’re a tangle of groping limbs, hot mouths, and clear intent.
The PR manager in me is fucking pissed this has happened again, but the red-blooded gay man in me is struggling to pull my eyes away. If this was a random clip on Pornhub instead of our star player, it’d be perfect jerk-off material.
Which probably explains why it’s the center of most news stories this morning.
“I’m sorry,” Keerson says, burying his face in his hands. “He’s out of control.”
Well, I can’t disagree there, but this isn’t a simple oopsie that we can talk our way out of. Oskar’s becoming a real problem for San Jose, which means he’s a real problem for me.
“You had one job,” I remind Keerson. “And I’m sure I was clear in my expectations.”
“What was I supposed to do? Chain him to me? I’ve been available at his beck and call, and the things he’s been calling me with …” Keerson stops to take a level breath. “I’m sorry. I’m out of ideas. I dropped him off at his place at nine so I could go home to bed, and he said he was going to do the same. I remember specifically because he said, ‘You can tell your boss I’m being a good little hockey player.’ What else could I do? Short of sleepovers, I just …” He mouths wordlessly, and even though I try not to be softhearted when it comes to work, I do feel for him. He has a family he’s barely seen for the last month, thanks to being solely assigned to Oskar.
The PR department is supposed to look after the entire team, but it’s true what they say about twenty percent of the people taking up eighty percent of the time. In this case, Oskar is the complete twenty percent all to himself.
I’d thought giving him a direct PR liaison would help him make better choices, but Keerson is the third person I’ve assigned to him, and the third person to completely fail at keeping up. At this rate, San Jose is going to fire my ass and find someone better equipped to deal with the situation.
Oskar should be the one getting fired, but he’s too damn good at what he does. Team management has made it clear that it’s our job to put an end to the scandals. It’s kind of hard to do that when he has threesomes in seedy alleys.
I rub my jaw, gaze straying back to the screen and where Oskar has his hand down one of the guys’ pants while the other drops to his knees. It might be my imagination, but I swear Oskar’s eyes keep flicking to the surveillance camera, and if that bastard knew it was there, he won’t need to worry about being fired—I’ll kill him myself.
“This is my fault,” I say, finally tapping my keyboard to pause the video. “I’ve put too much on the rest of you when you have lives outside of work. Unluckily for Oskar Voyjik, that won’t be a problem for me. I’m a thirty-nine-year-old, single workaholic who will do anything for this team.”
Keerson cracks a smile. “Are you … do you mean …”
“It’s my turn. If I can’t sort him out, they might as well fire me now.”
He cringes because we both know that while my words are light, it’s a very real possibility. “He’s, ah, waiting in the hall.”
Oskar Voyjik showing patience? I wouldn’t have guessed that.
“Good. At least he can follow some directions.” Still, I need a minute before I can face him. A minute to gather my weak professionalism and remind myself that his flirting is all bullshit. He might be my exact type, but I absolutely cannot look at him that way unless I want to kiss my career goodbye.
“Are you sure you can manage?” Keerson asks. “He’s a handful, and you already have a busy schedule.”
“I know how to delegate. If this is where my focus needs to be, then so be it.” I compulsively straighten my desk. “Send him in on your way out.”
Keerson jumps up, clearly relieved to be free, and I watch him all the way to the door, refusing to let my focus slip back to the monitor beside me. Murmured voices sound from the hall, and it’s easy to pick Oskar’s low, scratchy tone.
A second later, he walks in and closes the door, and my resolve about being professional flies out the window.
All the air in the room suctions his way, like there’s this great gravitational pull toward the man who is literally sex on legs. From his just-been-fucked dark blond hair to the scruff on his jaw, his intense eyes, and those sexy tattoos all over his body, every day is a mission to be good.