Billion Dollar Goal

Rain hit the floor to ceiling windows of Slater Financial Headquarters, casting watery shadows across the penthouse. Hazel Engel sat in a leather chair with her boots resting on the carpet, already regretting agreeing to this meeting. Relaxing in front of Leo Slater was a luxury no one could afford. Across the desk, Leo sat in perfect silence. He was reviewing the fifty-million-pound transfer agreement that would make Hazel the highest-paid female striker in European history. He had not looked up since she entered twenty minutes ago. "Are you hoping a typo magically appears?" Hazel asked, breaking the silence. "Because I have a medical at two o'clock and staring at the top of your head wasn't on my itinerary today." Leo turned another page, the sound of paper being his only response. "Patience is a virtue, Miss Engel." He finally said. "I am reviewing clause fourteen. Your disciplinary record at your previous club was a financial black hole, and I am deciding whether the wage deduction for red cards is enough or if I should double it." "I get red cards because I play to win," Hazel fired back. "If your defense knew how to hold a line properly, I wouldn't have to tackle the opposition's captain into the advertising boards to save a match. You're buying a striker, Slater, not a choir girl." Leo finally raised his head, his eyes unreadable. Dressed in a charcoal suit, he did not look like a man who loved football but a man who loved owning things. "I expect victories," Leo said, setting his gold pen down. "I do not expect chaos. Chaos is expensive and in my organization, you will deliver the former and eliminate the latter. Is that understood?" "I'm not a robot," Hazel snapped, crossing her arms. "You brought me here because I score thirty goals a season. If you wanted someone to play nice for the cameras, you should have signed a fitness influencer. You signed me because your team finished fifth last year, your fans are angry, and you desperately need a trophy to justify your renovations." Leo's eyes narrowed slightly. "I operate on strategy, not desperation. You are an asset with high potential, but an asset must be managed and I am perfectly willing to bench my fifty-million-pound star for the entire season if she threatens the stability of my organization." "You wouldn't dare," Hazel said, though doubt cooled her anger. "The board would have your head." "I am the board," Leo replied softly. "I own the stadium. I own the team. And in thirty seconds, I will own your playing rights." He uncapped his pen, signed the transfer agreement and pushed the thick stack of papers across the desk. Hazel grabbed the pen, knowing this was everything she had worked for — the premier league, the massive global stage. She scrawled her signature, feeling a brief surge of triumph. She tossed the pen down. "Done. I'll see you at the press conference tomorrow." She started to stand, but Leo tapped a commanding finger against the wood. "Sit down. We are not finished." Hazel stopped as Leo pulled out a second document in a black leather folder and slid it toward her. "What is this?" She asked. "Your operational guidelines," Leo replied, leaning back. "The primary contract dictates what you do on the pitch. This addendum dictates what you do off it." Hazel laughed in disbelief as she opened it but as her eyes scanned the white pages, her amusement quickly evaporated, replaced by rising anger. "Is this a joke?" she demanded. "You want written clearance from PR for me to attend private dinners after nine? You want full access to my social media accounts to approve my posts?" "It is standard procedure for high-risk investments." Leo stated blankly. "High-risk?" Hazel scoffed, flipping aggressively to the next page. "Oh, it gets better. 'The player is forbidden from engaging in unvetted personal relationships.' Are you actually trying to dictate who I date? Do you want a list of my exes for background checks?" "I already ran them," Leo said without missing a beat. "Two reality television stars, a minor league rugby player with a gambling problem, and a nightclub DJ who sold photos of you. Your taste in men is disastrous. I am dictating who you can be seen with. Your previous club allowed you to run wild with late-night appearances, public arguments with officials and messy breakups but that ends today. When you wear my club's crest, you represent the Slater Group and I will not have my brand tarnished by your impulsive social life." Hazel slammed the folder onto the desk. "I am an athlete, Leo. I am not a piece of property you get to manage. You bought my ability to put a ball in the back of a net so what I do when I take off my boots is none of your damn business." "Everything you do is my business the moment my money hits your bank account," Leo countered, his voice quieter now. "You have once in a generation talent, Hazel. But talent without discipline is a liability and I do not tolerate liabilities." "Then you should have drafted someone else!" Hazel yelled, standing up as her chair scraped backward. "I built my career on grit, fighting my way to the top while everyone told me I was too aggressive. I didn't get here by letting people like you tell me when I'm allowed to breathe." Leo watched her without flinching, his expression giving nothing away. "Are you quite finished?" "No," Hazel said, stepping around the side of the desk and placing her hands on it as she leaned toward him. "Let me make something extremely clear to you, Mr. Slater. You bought my contract, not my soul, so stop looking at me like I am just another trophy for your bedroom." The room fell silent, with only the rain against the windows and Hazel's furious breathing filling the space between them. For a long moment, Leo just stared at her. His eyes dropped to her white-knuckled grip on the desk, then traveled slowly back up to her flushed face, a small smirk appearing on his face. "Sit down, Miss Engel." He commanded softly. "No," she shot back. "I'm not signing this ridiculous addendum. I'm leaving. If you want to cancel the transfer because I refuse to let you control my personal life, go ahead and call the press right now. Tell them you lost the best striker in the world because you wanted to play babysitter." She turned and marched toward the office doors, expecting him to shout, threaten her with lawyers or demand that she sit down. More than anything, she wanted to see the billionaire finally lose his cool. Instead, she heard nothing but the soft scrape of his chair pushing back. Hazel reached the doors and grabbed the handles, pulling hard, but they did not move. She planted her feet and yanked them again... nothing. She looked up and noticed the electronic lock at the top of the doorframe was glowing red. A chill ran down her spine as she slowly turned around. Leo was standing a few feet away, a small silver remote in his hand, which he casually slipped into his pocket. "What did you just do?" Hazel demanded, her voice shaking slightly. "I locked the door." Leo replied simply. "Unlock it." "Not yet." "I said unlock the damn door, Leo. You can't just keep me in here." Leo took a slow step forward and Hazel instinctively moved back until her shoulders hit the doors. He took another step, closing the distance until he was towering over her. "You think I see you as a trophy, Hazel?" Leo murmured and his voice was no longer flat and professional but was a low sound that made the air in her lungs vanish. He raised a hand and placed it flat against the door, just inches from her head, effectively trapping her between his towering stature and the hard wood. "A trophy just sits on a shelf looking pretty," he continued, his eyes dropping to her lips before returning to hers. "It doesn't fight back, it doesn't challenge me, and it certainly doesn't walk into my office and throw my demands back in my face." Hazel's heart raced, but she lifted her chin and refused to look away. "So what am I, then?" She whispered, her voice tight and breathless. Leo leaned in, his lips hovering barely an inch from her ear. "You are a problem, and I am very, very good at solving problems." He pulled back, keeping his eyes on hers, before his gaze dropped to her mouth once more. "Now," Leo said. "We are going to go back to that desk. And we are going to negotiate exactly how much of your soul I actually bought today."