Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Evie

How am I supposed to focus when he just looked at me like I should be pitied? I am not going to accept his pity. Not now. Not

ever.

“I know that I can’t ever make up for what I did,” he says after a few minutes of silence, twirling a fancy fountain pen between his

fingers. “But hopefully, this at- least helps.”

“Hopefully what helps,” I mutter quietly, flipping to the next page of the contract lazily.

He quietly sets down the pen on the surface of the table.

“This,” he answers. “Becoming your client. I heard that you were struggling and wanted to try and help you out.”

Once again, he is pitying me.

“I was doing fine,” I grumble. “I didn’t need you to save me like some maiden in distress. This isn’t a fairytale and you aren’t

some knight in shining armor.

“I know you don’t want my help, Evie,” he chuckles. “But between this and your waitressing, I thought you could use the helping

hand.

I laugh bitterly. “I know you can't,” I tease. “You barely have to work for anything. Hockey... Women... all of it falls right into your

lap, doesn’t it, Timothy?”

“Did you even see the apology I made-”

“Don't be ridiculous,” I snap. “Of course I did.”

“Okay. And?”

I groan, rubbing my eyes tiredly. “You didn’t need to do that. You’re making it a bigger deal than it was. All of your fanbase is in

an uproar over nothing.”

He scoffs, waving a hand dismissively as an easy smile spreads across his face.

“You should know I don’t care what they think, Evie,” he says in amusement. “I have enough fans to populate the entire northern

continent. I just want to know if

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you're going to accept my apology.”

I could practically see the back of my head with how hard I rolled my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Oh, but you know you love me,” he chuckles, winking flirtatiously at me. “Admit it, Evie. You liked having me grovel on tv for

you.”

Damn him. He had to know how that stupid wink affected me. I would not let him. see me as unprofessional.

“My stance doesn’t change,” I finally say, breaking the silence between us. “What's done is done, Timothy. We both j got what we

wanted. End of story.”

“Come on,” he laughed. “I just want to make it up to you. I screwed up by taking that bet. I’m not the same immature little kid in

high school. I've changed.”

“Congrats. What do you want? An award,” I ask tiredly. “Do you want me as your girlfriend? Cause that won't be a disaster. I am

going to be an attorney. I don’t need some sort of tabloid writing nasty things about me because it makes for a good story. I don’t

think you need that either.”

He nods. “I know.”

“Let's just get through this and see what happens,” I sigh, flipping back into the file.

“Why did you leave town,” he asks.

I shut my eyes tiredly, inhaling deeply to stop myself from doing anything unprofessional. Like smacking this huge file upside his

pretty head.

I laugh. “Besides going to law school and jump-starting my career?”

“You could’ve at least told me off before you left, but you didn’t,” he says, frowning

curiously.

“Excuse me for not wanting to see the boy who used me for sex,” I snort.

“I thought you used me too,” he teases. “Or is that another bullshit lie from my lawyer?”

I almost laugh. I had to bite my cheek from letting it escape. I couldn't let him see me fall to his charm again. That would be the

end of me, I just know it.

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It always starts with a laugh. He would disarm me with a cheeky joke that is way too endearing and charming to not have a

reaction. Then he would move closer. Inching forward into my personal space, maybe he brushes his fingers down my arm. And

then he would look at me, a devilish smile to finish me off.

Then I would fold. I would cave in an instant. I know that I would. It’s been too long since I’ve felt wanted by anyone. I would give

in to him, even if I was still angry and heartbroken over what he did.

It was depressing to think how desperate I was for something that would never

come.

I straighten my shoulders, shooing the daydream away before it made me do something completely reckless and stupid.

“I won't be answering that,” I say, gaining control over myself.

“Damn,” he chuckles. “It was worth a shot.”

“Mister Hayes,” I warn. “Let me do my work.”

“Admit it, Miss Sinclair,” he smirks. “I almost had you on that one.”

“Oh, bite me,” I scold. “Tell me exactly what we are trying to accomplish here.”

Timothy sighs heavily, rubbing his chin. “I need out of this contract,” he answers finally.

“But you'll renegotiate a new deal,” I ask.

“As long as management does the right thing,” he sighs heavily.

“What's going on with management?”

Timothy huffs out a laugh. “What isn’t going on with management?”

“Mister Hayes,” I spoke plainly. “You can’t be vague. I need to know everything that’s gone down between you and the club.”

He sighs. “I’m not even sure if I can. They had me sign a non-disclosure agreement.”

I shut my eyes. “You certainly never made it easy on me,” I sigh. “I need to see that NDA. Do you have it with you?”

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He nods. “It’s in the file. Very back.”

“At the very least, you know you have lawyer-client confidentiality,” I say simply. “I am legally not allowed to share anything you

say outside this room.”

His shoulders slacken a bit as relief filled his eyes. “That's good,” he says, swallowing hard.

Inod.

“So tell me what’s going on,” I urge.

fii)

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