Page 6 of Traded

I’m in trouble, Jonas mouths at me as he runs his hand over his hair to smooth it down. His call echoes back as he jogs away. “Worth it!”

Liam turns to Carter. “See you when you’re done with Elena.”

Carter scans a message on his phone with a frown. “Change of plans. Richard wants me upstairs. You too, Rosie.”

Liam glances between us. “PR meeting?”

“Nothing was scheduled.” I pull my phone out to check, but it’s blank. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Maybe they’re caving and finally giving me the assistant I’ve been asking for. We have a whole comms team, but the organic social accounts are mine. Always have been, since before we were bought out, and everyone acknowledges that the viral posts I create for the team socials played a big part in why we got the attention in the first place.

I stop at the coffee cart on the way, letting Carter go ahead as he climbs the stairs toward the upper meeting rooms. Georgio, easily in his sixties, balding, and a ladies’ man to his core, winks as he hands my latte over. “Full of sugar, like you.”

“Don’t give all of my secrets away, Gio.” I take a furtive sip and shudder with sheer joy. “I promised Liam I’d swap to sweetener.”

His laugh echoes as I take the stairs after Carter, juggling my clipboard and coffee before backing through the meeting room door. Carter catches it where he’s waiting on the other side for me, and I beam at him before turning to face the rest of the room. “Mornin’, everyone.”

“Rosie.” Richard Bennett lifts a hand. “Nice of you to join us.”

I wouldn’t say Idislikedour General Manager. I mean, I wouldn’t choose to spend any additional time with him and his shiny bald head that I swear he polishes in the mirror every night, but he’s always polite enough, even if some of his remarks are a little on the nose.Time is money, and all that.

He gestures to the giant, rectangular glass table that matches the panels around us. “Take a seat, both of you.”

Claire Williams, assistant GM and generally Much Nicer Person, smiles at me, her hand wrapped around a ridiculously oversized cup of coffee that I eye with envy.

Georgio’s definitely been holding out on me.

I glance at the omega sitting opposite Claire as I slide into an empty seat and almost drown in the comfortable leather, not noticing that I’m shifting closer to Carter until his hand settles on my knee.

She looks around my age or a little older. Neat and sharp, in a sleek navy suit with an enviable waterfall of dark, glossy hair that falls to her shoulders and cuts off in a sharp line. Not a split end to be seen. Pale blue eyes flicker between my alpha and me, and she settles on me before smiling awkwardly.

My eyes shift between the newbie and Ness, our head of PR. She raises her eyebrow at me, a small smile tugging her lips.

I get it.Be nice.

I’m always nice. Territorial instincts and biological issues aside.

I force a smile back at the omega before leaning into Carter.

Martin Ellas taps on the table. The Titans coach hates it up here, I know. He prefers the lower player levels to any schmoozing he’s contractually obliged to carry out up here. “What’s this about, Dick?”

Richard coughs wetly into his fist. It’s normally the signal for a long, drawn-out lecture, and all of us flop back in our seats, withthe exception of the new omega. “First, welcome back to the new season. High hopes this year. Carter, how are you feeling?”

He tenses beside me, his grip on my knee tightening. “Fine. Coach has no issues, and Elena signed me off. I’m good to go.”

“With additional sessions.” Martin eyes him beneath grizzled grey brows. “We’re gonna be watching every move. Can’t be losing our All-Star halfway through the season.”

“You won’t,” Carter says tightly. “I have it under control. Sir.”

“Good, good.” Richard shuffles some papers in front of him. He’s not usually so… dithering. My eyes flick to the omega again. “I have some news. It concerns the Pit.”

The Pit is the arena on the other side of town. Opposite in every way to the Furnace. Smaller, shabbier—I’m pretty sure it hasn’t been painted since they last reached playoffs sometime in the nineties.

It’s also the arena the Aces use.

Beside me, Carter turns to rock. “What about it?”

“Crown Meridian completed their majority buy-in for the Blackwater Aces over the weekend.” Richard clears his throat before continuing, clearly aware that Carter is staring a hole in the side of his head. “An emergency assessment of the Aces arena has shown that it needs substantial remodeling, and some areas don’t meet basic NPHL safety standards. As such, Meridian has informed me that the Aces will be moving into the Furnace for the season, so they can make use of the facilities here while work is going on.”