Out of play

Episode1

"You're a complete i***t, Gabriel!"

Emma opened the apartment door without bothering to knock, driven by a fury that had been brewing for weeks. However, the scene that greeted her upon crossing the threshold made her stomach churn. She had to stop dead in her tracks, closing her eyes for a moment as she inhaled the air conditioning, fighting with all her might not to lose control and start smashing the first thing she saw.

In the middle of the enormous, unmade bed, half-naked and with his hair disheveled, stood Gabriel Peralta, the star forward of the hockey team and, unfortunately for her, the most profitable and problematic client she represented at the agency.

The real problem, however, wasn't just his usual audacity. The real headache was the stunning brunette accompanying him, who, upon noticing Emma's presence, let out a stifled squeal and hastily covered herself up to her shoulders with the gray silk sheets, staring at the newcomer with wide eyes of surprise.

"Emma! What on earth do you think you're doing?" Gabriel bellowed, propping himself up on his elbows without the slightest trace of shame on his face. "Do confidentiality agreements and privacy no longer matter? Can't you see I'm busy?"

The blonde didn't even deign to look at him; she knew exactly which strings to pull to wound the player's pride. She fixed her cold, cutting gray gaze directly on the girl. She didn't need to shout or make a scene; a single, almost imperceptible gesture with her chin toward the exit, a movement charged with implacable authority, was enough for the young woman to understand the message.

Without saying a word, the brunette got out of bed, still wrapped in the sheet, gathered her clothes from the floor with clumsy, hurried movements, and fled the room as if the devil himself were chasing her.

When the heavy wooden door closed behind her, silence settled in the bedroom, thick and heavy with an almost palpable hostility.

"What a shame to have interrupted your sacred weekly romp. It's a true national tragedy," Emma said with biting irony, crossing her arms as she leaned against the doorframe. "Now, do me the favor of explaining what the hell this is all about."

With a sharp movement, she tossed a tabloid she'd been carrying folded under her arm. The wad of paper flew through the air and landed with a thud on the mattress. The cover left nothing to the imagination: a crisp photograph, taken through the windshield of a sports car, showed Gabriel in a compromising position with a well-known i********: model.

The headline in scarlet letters spoke of excess, indiscipline, and the possible downfall of the young ice sports star. Gabriel barely glanced at the publication, letting out an annoyed snort before running a hand over his face.

"And isn't that what I'm supposed to pay you a damn fortune for? Your job is to prevent garbage like that from seeing the light of day, Emma, not come to my house and lecture me on morality."

That callous response was the last straw. Emma's already thin-wire patience snapped completely. Without a second thought, she stepped forward, grabbed one of the feather pillows on the floor, and hurled it with all her might directly at his head.

“My job is to get you million-dollar contracts with brands that don’t want their logo associated with a s*x scandal every three days!” she spat, her voice trembling with indignation. “My job is to keep your professional image intact so you don’t get kicked out of the league, Gabriel, not to babysit your promiscuous ass or be your 24/7 nanny!”

“It’s just a damn paparazzi photo,” he replied, stretching his legs with an indifference that Emma found infuriating. “People have short memories. They’ll be obsessed with something else in a couple of days and this will be forgotten, as usual.”

Emma let out a dry laugh, devoid of any humor, while shaking her head. She felt a pang of pity for the brilliant talent this man was so determined to throw away.

It wasn't the first scandal she'd had to cover up involving the dark-haired man, who wasn't exactly the most discreet or secretive person. He practically made it his mission to rub it in everyone's face who he was sleeping with, and there were quite a few "lucky" women.

"I warned you, on my knees and in every tone I could muster, that I wasn't going to let you get away with another mistake. You might not give a damn about ruining your career before you're thirty, but I value my reputation and I intend to keep my job at the agency." She paused deliberately, letting her words carry weight in the room before finishing in an icy voice: "You're..." "Out of this week's advertising campaigns. The watch brand is suspended for you."

The atmosphere instantly became tense. Gabriel's face changed completely; indifference transformed into a grimace of disbelief and barely contained rage as he stood up, displaying his imposing athletic physique.

"You can't screw me over like this, Emma," he retorted, slamming his fist on the mattress. "I'm the face of the team, the sponsors' damn favorite. If you drop me from that campaign, the brand is going to protest."

"Look at me, Gabriel. Of course I can," she replied without blinking, holding his gaze with a firmness that made him mentally back away. "There's a whole line of players in the league just as good-looking as you, with better behavior, and who would kill for a tenth of the opportunities you scorn. Enjoy your week off."

Without another word, Emma spun around on her heels and stormed out of the apartment, her footsteps echoing furiously on the porcelain floor. As she crossed the living room, she noticed three of Gabriel's teammates sitting on the enormous leather sofa, watching her with mocking smiles and beer cans in their hands.

"I advise you all to talk to your friend and not follow in his footsteps, or you'll end up out of every project too," she threatened, flashing a relaxed smile.

"Yes, Captain," the three replied, giving a military salute.

Emma completely ignored them, keeping her back straight and her chin held high, though the burning heat in her cheeks betrayed the fury gnawing at her inside. That man is going to be my downfall, she thought bitterly as she repeatedly pressed the elevator button.

The moment she stepped outside the luxurious residential building, feeling the humidity in the air, her cell phone began vibrating insistently in her purse. She glanced at the screen and sighed before answering.

"How did it go with your pretty boy?" asked Marcos, her boss and the agency's PR director, on the other end of the line.

"Looks like we'll have to find a temporary replacement for the Swiss campaign," Emma replied, getting into her car and roughly throwing her purse onto the passenger seat. "Gabriel is on the sidelines until further notice. I'm not going to let him drag me down with him."

There was a long silence on the line, followed by a weary sigh from Marcos.

"I knew putting you in charge of his account was a double-edged sword, Emma. You two together are like fire and gasoline; you could set the whole agency off at any moment."

“Don’t joke with me today, Marcos. I’m not in the mood for jokes,” she retorted, starting the car engine while adjusting the hands-free device. “You know perfectly well why they assigned me to Gabriel.”

“Yes, I know. Because you’re the best we have and the only one with enough character not to be intimidated by his celebrity tantrums.”

“Exactly. They hired me because I’m persuasive enough to close multi-million dollar deals and smart enough to draft clauses that always work in our favor. So, back me up on this.”

“Just try to keep things from getting out of hand and make sure they don’t get into any more legal trouble,” Marcos said before hanging up with a friendly warning.

Emma rested her forehead against the cold leather steering wheel for a long second. She closed her eyes, inhaled the vanilla scent of her car's air freshener, and slowly exhaled, forcing herself to calm her racing heart. She straightened the lapels of her jacket, checked her makeup in the rearview mirror to make sure it was still perfect, and started the car, merging into the chaotic morning traffic.