Rucked Up Ruse, ebook

I’m sitting in one of Charlie Harrington’s chairs, legs sprawled in a way that says I don’t give a fuck.

Except I do. Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.

My right knee bounces as if it’s got its own heartbeat. I’m early, she’s late. Maybe grabbing a coffee to buy herself two more minutes of not having to deal with me. Mac, one of the few people on Charlie’s team, let me in and said she’d be right back.

I check my phone. 11:23. 

By now, they’ll be lowering him into the ground. I wonder if anyone’s crying, if my maw is there. I highly doubt it, she hated my father. And he didn’t have friends as far as I know, except the mates he made in prison. My guess is it’s one or two surviving drug pals and a minister who’s never met him. Something’s wedged between my ribs, growing sharper by the minute.
I’m not at my father’s funeral because I’d rather be anywhere else. Even here, about to be skinned alive by my new agent.

I force the knot lower.

The door opens, and Charlie breezes in, tablet tucked under her arm. No shouting or stomping. Only a calm, collected agent in her crisp white shirt and leather leggings.

‘Thanks for coming in, Finn. I take it you’re aware that we’ve got a bit of a situation.’

I slouch deeper. ‘Situation? I was more going with clusterfuck.’

Without blinking, she pushes her tablet across the desk. The headlines slap me in the face.


LENNOX IN THREE-WAY SHAME WITH TORY MP’S FIANCÉE
PINK-HAIRED FLANKER FACES RED CARD AFTER ALPINE ANTICS
DOUBLE SNOW JOB FOR SCOTTISH RUGBY STAR

‘Jesus,’ I mutter, scrolling through. Stomach acid eats through my gut. ‘They’ve been busy.’

‘So have your sponsors. The car dealership pulled their offer for you this morning. And the Rebels’ leadership demands a meeting first thing tomorrow.’

The walls of the office shrink inward. 

‘Look.’ I pitch my weight forward. ‘It was all consensual fun. Everyone was having a great time. I swear, I had no idea who they were.’

‘That’s actually worse.’ There’s a flash of disgust on her face. ‘And the sisters angle?’

‘Stepsisters,’ I correct. ‘And no, I didn’t know. It’s not like I planned it. I hardly remember the details. Too bad, judging by these pictures. Looks like a proper belter.’

Now I get a rage-fuelled look, but she immediately reins it in. Her face is the picture of neutral professionalism. You’d think she wasn’t looking at human garbage.
Damn, she’s good. That’s why she’s my agent.

‘You’re taking this well,’ I say. ‘I expected more…shouting.’

‘Would shouting help?’

‘Might feel more normal.’ That and random smacks to the back of the head. My mother’s MO.

She sighs loudly. ‘Finn, I’m not angry. I’m disappointed.’

Uh oh. 

‘Aye, well. Get in line.’ I scratch at a scab on my knuckle until it bleeds. ‘So what’s the plan? Sackcloth and ashes? Public flogging?’

‘How about taking this seriously?’

‘Fine. And then?’

‘Not sure yet. Community service or charity, a fundraiser. Something that shows contrition without undermining our positioning.’

I nod, throat tight. ‘And the Rebels?’

‘I’m meeting with Coach Wallace later. Brodie’s coming too.’

Great. Captain Perfect to the rescue.

‘He’s on your side, Finn,’ she states, as if she could read my mind.

‘Everyone’s on my side until they’re not.’

‘Spare me the lost boy routine.’

The door opens again, and a woman walks in. Dark ponytail and a fringe cut with military precision. Deep red on lips that are too full to be fair. She looks like a pin-up who hasn’t slept in a week and bleeds espresso. Curvy and vibrating with an energy that makes it hard not to stare.
She has a glittery purple travel mug in one arm, a stack of papers in the other, and a step like she’s marching into battle.
I sit up without meaning to.

‘Sorry I’m late. Printer jammed again. We have a hate-hate relationship.’ She turns to me. ‘Theo MacMickin. I don’t believe we’ve met in person.’

Her eyes are violet-blue and sharp. Like they’ve already decided what I am. And whatever it is, they’re not wrong.

‘Finn Lennox. Professional cock-up.’ I hold out a hand. 

She sets the papers and mug down before taking it. Her grip is firm and no-nonsense. ‘Professional rugby player who went off track. There’s a difference.’

Something in my chest eases a wee bit.

‘Theo’s my assistant and our social media manager,’ Charlie explains. ‘She’ll be handling your public rehabilitation.’

I’d let her handle plenty of things – if this were a different week, in a different life.

What? Calm doon, cowboy.

‘Lucky her.’

Theo sits down next to me and crosses her legs. ‘Let’s be clear. I can help manage how the world sees you, but I can’t change who you are. That part’s on you.’

‘Do you think I have to change who I am?’

‘Do you think you have to?’ She lifts a brow and slides a document toward me. ‘This is your new schedule. Media blackout until I say otherwise, I’ll handle your socials. Everything goes through me. Daily check-ins. We start tomorrow.’
Her gaze holds mine. Bright, unflinching, and too damn blue, measuring the gap between what I say and what I mean.

Charlie’s phone lights up. She frowns, checks the screen, and stands. ‘Give me a minute’, she says, halfway to the door.

Theo glances after her, unreadable.
Family call? Feels like it. Or maybe she needed a break from me. Wouldn’t blame her.
Charlie’s heels click away, and suddenly it’s just me and the woman who’s going to hold me hostage for the foreseeable future.
The silence stretches thin as I count the bricks in the wall.

‘So,’ I say and stretch lazily, ‘your name is Theo. Isn’t that…a boy’s name?’

‘So, you slept with two women at the same time. Isn’t that overcompensating?’ Her voice is calm but cuts like a blade. ‘Do you even understand the fallout of what you’ve done?’

I summon my practised smile. ‘Gave two ladies a good time?’

Her cheeks light up with anger. It looks surprisingly cute.

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