Page 24 of The Decoy

Technically speaking, I do have a legit reason to be here today. My agent, Scott, finalized the extension on my endorsement deal earlier in the week, so she knows I’m coming. But if I’m being honest with myself, I’m looking forward to seeing Ellis.

She’s a masterclass in composure, but I’m seeing a different side to her as I get to know her better. She’s funny and has a great family. Getting to know her like this makes me like her even more than I already do. It’s like something more is building every time we talk.

I find her office and bypass her assistant’s office with a wink. I don’t know. I just push open the heavy door and step inside.

Sunlight floods the suite through floor-to-ceiling glass windows that showcase an incredible view of Manhattan and the East River. Ellis is sitting behind her desk, looking like she should be on some kind of business magazine cover. She’s wearing a red top and her dark hair is pulled back into a loose knot at the nape of her neck, with a few curls touching her cheeks.

However, the illusion of corporate control is broken when I look closer. Under her desk, her heels are off, and her bare feet rest on a fluffy rug. A stack of folders sits scattered on top of her desk around her silver laptop, flanked by a coffee mug and a glass of water.

Still, she looks immaculate, although a little tired.

“Hey! You’re early. Is Scott with you?” she says, without looking up from her screen, her eyes tracing her monitor.

“No, he should be here on time. I finished my meetings early today and thought I’d head over before I couldn’t cross the bridge. As it was, traffic was awful.” I set the bag down on her desk and took a seat in the chair in front of her. “But more importantly, I brought you real fuel instead of a liquid diet.”

Ellis finally lifts her head, blinking as her eyes settle on me. I flash her a slow grin and pat the side of the food bag.

“Brody,” she starts. “You are seriously the sweetest, and it smells divine. But I just have a few more contract reviews before we take care of your contract, and then I have one more last conference call today.”

“Look, I get it, but it sounds like you haven’t had a bite of solid food all day,” I counter. “Take a little break for a few. Cut into my time. I don’t care. In fact, I’ll sign whatever you need while you eat. We don’t need formalities. I reviewed it already with Scott.”

Before she can protest, I stand and walk around her desk. “Just take a few bites at least.” I grab the armrests of her leather chair and roll her back from her desk and around to the other side, scooting the chair I had been in over to make room for hers.

“Lunch is served, Princess.” I toss her a cocky wink.

“You’re awfully pushy,” she says, though there’s no heat in her voice as she uncrosses her legs and leans forward, looking at the food I brought for her.

“Am I, though?” I smirk, shrug out of my leather jacket, and drape it over the arm of the chair. “I think attentive might be a better word. Anticipatory? Knowing what you need before you do?”

I unpack the food, pulling out the burrata, container of pasta, and bread, setting the cutlery and napkins beside them. Once the spread is laid out for her, I lean over her desk, looking for maybe a folder with my contract in it. “Is my contract in this pile somewhere?”

“It is,” she starts to say.

“I see it,” I say, pulling the manilla folder with my name on it off her desk. I find a Montblanc pen in her organizer and open the folder, skimming the contract to make sure it’s the same as what I read the other day. Once I’m done, I initial and sign my name across the line on the final page.

“There,” I say, closing the folder and sliding the multi-million dollar document across her desk. “Business concluded. Now eat.”

I lean back against the edge of her desk, cross my ankles, and rest my hands flat on the wood. I look down at her with an easy smile, taking in all the small details of the curve of her throat, the faint shadows of exhaustion under her eyes, and the way the sunlight coming through the windows catches the shades of brown in her dark hair.

She is easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And I’m thinking about her way more than I probably should.

I lean down closer to her. “Eat, Ellis,” I urge her. “Or I’m taking that fork and feeding you myself.”

She clears her throat. “I am,” she says as a flush creeps up her neck. She takes a bite of the pappardelle first. “I’m seeing a trend here with your food preferences.”

Her eyes close, and a soft sigh of satisfaction leaves her lips. “Okay, this is unbelievable.”

“Right?” I grin, crossing my arms over my chest, satisfied she likes it, and watch as she takes a second bite. “Italian food is my favorite. I could eat it for every meal. These brothers from Florence don’t mess around.”

For the next fifteen minutes, it’s just the two of us. No business talk for her. The ding of her phone, ignored entirely. I pick at a piece of the bread while she eats, keeping the conversation light and unhurried. I tell her about my meeting this morning prepping for our upcoming game, tease her a little, and listen to her laugh.

Just as she reaches for her bottle of sparkling water, I notice a notification pop up on her phone, sitting by her laptop.

New Diagnostic Results /Mount Sinai Women’s Health Portal.

The light-hearted bubble we’ve been in vanishes.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, noticing my shift in mood.