Billion Dollar Goal

Chapter 2

"I am not negotiating my personal life with you." Hazel said, her voice surprisingly steady considering she was pinned against a locked door with a billionaire hovering barely an inch from her face.

Leo did not move. His cologne, expensive and carrying a hint of sandalwood and cedar, surrounded her, making it harder to think clearly.

"You misunderstand the situation, Miss Engel," Leo replied, his voice dropping into a smooth register. "The negotiation is not about whether you follow my rules. The rules are already set. The negotiation is about how difficult I make your life if you choose to break them."

Hazel let out a breathless laugh, pushing her hands flat against his chest, but beneath his suit, he felt solid and he moved.

"Move." She demanded.

"The desk," Leo replied, his gaze flicking down to where her hands pressed against him. "Now."

She glared at him, every instinct screaming at her to shove him harder, but knowing it would be useless, she dropped her hands and sidestepped him, marching back to the table. She didn't sit but rather stood behind it, gripping the backrest like a shield.

Leo followed at a slower pace before leaning against the front of his desk, his arms crossed over his chest. The casual posture was entirely at odds with the predatory look in his eyes.

"You think you hold the cards because you're the star signing," Leo began, his tone conversational. "You think because I just paid fifty million pounds for your transfer, I am beholden to you. That I need you on that pitch on opening day more than you need to be there."

"You do." Hazel shot back instantly. "Your team is a disaster, your midfield is sluggish, your defense is aging and your strikers couldn't even hit the broad side of a barn. You bought me to save your season. If I don't play, the press will crucify you and the fans will riot."

"Let them riot." Leo said.

The complete indifference in his voice made Hazel pause.

"You don't care about the club," she said, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. "You don't care about the sport at all."

"I care about winning," Leo corrected. "I care about the prestige of the Slater Group. I care about dominance. Football is simply the current board I am playing on. Do not confuse my desire to win with a desperate need for your participation."

Hazel scoffed, shaking her head. "You're bluffing. You won't bench a fifty-million-pound striker."

"Try me."

Leo pushed away from the desk and took a step toward her. "You have a contractual obligation to the club, but I own the club, which means your obligation is to me. If I tell you to smile at a press conference, you will smile. If I tell you to delete a post, you will delete it. If I tell you to cut ties with whatever distractions you spend your weekends with, you will."

"I am a grown ass woman," Hazel snapped, her voice rising. "You can't micromanage my life just to protect your stock prices."

"Watch me," Leo said simply, taking another step. "Sign the conduct addendum, agree to the PR oversight and stop behaving like a feral teenager in the tabloids. If you refuse, I will finalize the transfer today and immediately assign you to the reserve squad."

Hazel's grip on the leather chair tightened until her knuckles turned white. "You're insane. The manager would never allow it."

"I pay his salary. He will do exactly as he is told," Leo replied. "You will train with the teenagers on the back pitches, you will not see a single minute of television time and spend the best years of your career on a bench while the world forgets your name."

The threat hung heavy between them. It was the absolute worst-case scenario for any professional athlete. Total isolation and irrelevance, but for a striker at the peak of her career, it was a death sentence.

Leo watched her face, waiting for her to give in, expecting fear to finally take over.

Instead, Hazel looked at his perfect suit, neatly styled hair and arrogant expression. She thought about everything she had sacrificed to get here, the broken bones, torn ligaments and endless hours on frozen pitches while everyone else slept. She looked at a man who bought his power, trying to intimidate a woman who had bled for hers.

And then, she laughed.

It wasn't a nervous chuckle. It was loud and genuine, echoing through the penthouse.

Leo's expression changed instantly. "You find your career destruction amusing?"

"I find you amusing," Hazel said, wiping a dramatic tear from the corner of her eye. She let go of the chair and walked around it, closing the distance between them until they were standing chest to chest. "You really think you're the first powerful man to threaten me?"

"I am not like the other men you have dealt with." Leo warned.

"No, you're just richer and wearing a better suit," Hazel retorted, her chin tipped up defensively. "But the ego is exactly the same. You sit in your glass tower, moving people around like chess pieces, expecting everyone to bow because you have money. Well, guess what, Leo? I don't care about it."

"Everyone cares about money, Hazel."

"Not me. I care about the game," she snapped. "I care about the grass, the ball, and the net. So go ahead. Bench me. Send me to the reserves. Make me train in the mud. Do you know what will happen?"

Leo remained perfectly still, his jaw locked tight. "Enlighten me."

"I'll score twenty goals against your first-team defense in practice," Hazel whispered, her eyes blazing. "I'll run your players into the ground and make your manager beg you to put me on the main squad. I'll make a mockery of your authority every day until you're forced to play me just to stop the embarrassment."

She took one half-step closer, bringing her face inches from his.

"You think you can break me by taking away the spotlight?" She asked, a mocking smile playing on her lips. "I grew up playing with taped-up boots on concrete courts where people fought for scraps. I thrive in the dirt. You? You'd cry if someone scuffed your oxfords. You can't handle me, Leo. You're just too arrogant to admit it."

Silence filled the penthouse as they stood facing each other, neither willing to back down. Hazel's heart hammered against her ribs, but she refused to look away.

She expected him to yell or call his lawyers to draft the reserve team paperwork immediately.

Instead, Leo's hand shot out and closed around her upper arm, firm enough to stop her but not enough to hurt. Before Hazel could react, he spun her around.

For a moment, everything blurred before her back hit the cold glass overlooking the London skyline. The sheer drop to the city streets below spun in her peripheral vision, making her stomach lurch.

Leo stepped directly into her space, caging her against the glass. He planted both his hands on the window on either side of her head, the thud of his palms echoing in the quiet room.

The rain beat furiously against the pane behind her, matching the frantic pounding in her chest. His broad shoulders completely blocked out the rest of the room, leaving her trapped in a universe that consisted entirely of him.

"You think this is a game," Leo breathed, his face so close she could feel the heat of his skin.

"Get off me!" Hazel demanded, though her voice betrayed her with a slightly breathless tremor. She pressed her palms flat against his chest again, trying to shove him back, but he was completely immovable.

"You think you're untamable because you survived a few concrete courts," Leo murmured, his eyes moving from the pulse in her throat to her lips before meeting her gaze again.

When his eyes finally locked onto hers again, there was no professional detachment left. It had been replaced by something far more intense.

"Laugh all you want, Hazel," Leo whispered, his voice dropping into low rasp that sent a shiver straight down her spine. "But by the time I am finished with you, you will beg me for the spotlight. I am going to break that beautiful pride of yours into a thousand pieces... and you are going to thank me for it."