Chapter 2 Damage Control
MALIK'S POV
"If you'd just stayed back inside as I told you! The media is in a frenzy right now. These people want answers. They need clarity, Malik."
"Clarity on what?" I shrugged, responding to the redhead I met at the club who had been trying to seduce me when I clearly told her I only fucked blondes.
"Everyone's calling you a misogynist, Malik. Social media is blowing up, and it's really bad for the team. You have to cooperate with us so that we can try to contain the situation." My manager, Brenda told me.
I stared at the Audemars Piguet on my wrist, stroking my bearded chin like I was thinking.
"Brenda, last time I checked, I didn't care what these fuckers thought about me. I still don't care." I got up from the arm of the couch, reducing the brightness of my phone because the redhead just sent me a couple of nudes.
Not really interested, though.
"God, Malik. I hate that you're untamable. Don't you get it?"
Brenda came to stand in front of me.
I turned off my phone, sliding it into my back pocket.
"Malik Cross, I will have you know that because of your untamable behavior, your biggest collaboration yet is slipping through your fingers, and it's not even sinking into that skull of yours that you’re about to lose a four-hundred-million-dollar deal with Nike. You need to reevaluate your life."
I eyed her from head to toe, chewing my gum more slowly before shrugging again.
"If Nike leaves, another brand will come. There are plenty of them. Isn't it?"
She shook her head, obviously done with me. I took that as my cue to leave her office, my phone now vibrating in my pocket.
Probably the redhead.
How many languages did she want me to say ‘I’m not interested’ in?
It was common knowledge in Los Angeles that I only hooked up with blondes. Especially the ones who had gotten their bodies done. No hate to other women, but it was just my preference.
Why didn’t she fucking get it?
Maybe I’d indulge her since I hadn’t gotten any action in two nights because of the major ongoing scandal. The reason Brenda is on my neck.
I was currently under major scrutiny.
Two nights ago, one of my guys invited me to Avalon for a private event. I saw a blonde with a banging body. I mean the sexiest ass I'd ever seen. Her tits looked very nice too. I wanted her for the night, and some dude walked up to us when I was trying to get her number, talking about some 'he was her boyfriend'. It was clearly a lie. Things got physical. He hit me first, and I hit him back.
Now, everyone was saying I had a reputation to protect. Fuck a reputation. If a dude wanted to get physical with me, I was going physical.
SLOANE'S POV
I was done.
This Los Angeles life? It wasn't for me.
I was fine living a simple life back in England with my boyfriend, Arthur, and my cat, Seashells.
Forty-eight hours in this damn city and I'd almost lost my life.
I packed up the last of my things, buying a ticket back home to England while I sat in bed, lost in my head.
A knock on the door snapped me out of it.
"How can I help you?"
The taller women on the other side of the door ran her fingers through her black hair, her gaze moving slowly from my head to my toes, a silent disapproval of what I was wearing.
"Sloane Murphy?" She eyed me.
"Yes."
"Come with me." She said, not bothering to get a response before walking away.
Astonished, I followed behind her, my long flare skirt moving as I walked.
Walking out of the hotel, she walked straight to a black Range Rover, getting in, pushing open the door for me, her head gesturing at it for me to get in, and I didn’t even argue with her.
I got in.
The car engine roared to life, the driver zooming off.
For all I cared, this could be me handing them my head on an easy platter. I could be getting kidnapped.
When the driver stopped the car at the exact spot where I almost lost my life yesterday, I almost fucking choked.
"What is going on?" I turned to ask the woman.
"You'll see." She said.
She got out, throwing the doors wide open for me.
I stepped out, walking into the building behind her.
We took the elevator, and in no time, the door of a luxurious office slid open, and we poured in.
Everyone's gaze left their computer and mobile phone screens, and they were now looking at me.
They scanned me from head to toe, their gazes lingering on my long skirt, a little too long.
I could hear some murmurings.
A woman at the edge of the table cleared her throat, twisting a pen between her fingers.
"Sloane Murphy, right?"
I nodded as a million and one eyes were fixated on me.
"It was brought to my knowledge that you were here from morning till evening yesterday. I'd like to know why that is."
Good time to pitch myself.
"Umm, ma'am. I'm a PhD student with a three-month deadline to get my dissertation signed. My topic is 'The Psychopathology of Elite Athletes'. My supervisor told me to pick a case study and fixate on it, highlighting the behind-the-scenes of what top athletes actually went through." I explained, expecting everyone in the office to burst out laughing.
"Let me have a look at your clinical validation."
Fuck.
"I-I don't have it with me here." I shook my head.
"What a shame." She shook her head, her gaze scanning me from head to toe once again.
She got up, gathered a group of people into the smaller office.
Five minutes later, they were back.
"I'm sure you know you've gone viral."
Confused, I looked around the office for clues.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Your little meet-cute with Malik yesterday. Everyone can't seem to stop talking about it."
"Who's Malik?" Lines of confusion etched across my forehead.
A look of shock was plastered on her face.
"You mean you came looking to study some athlete for your," she paused, air quoting "PhD dissertation in this team and you don't know who Malik Cross is? The Malik Cross."
"Look, I don't know what is going on here, but I'm just looking to get my dissertation done."
This was clearly the wrong decision.
I was certain Dr. Humphrey and I could work on something else. There was no way she could fail me.
I turned around to walk away.
"Don't go!" She ordered.
"You need us, and I'm afraid to admit that we might need you."
I faced the group of people.
"Malik Cross is arguably one of the best players to ever grace the NBA, but he has a bad reputation. One that is in dire need of fixing.”
I really did not understand what that had to do with me.
"Ma'am. I like that you think highly of me, but I don’t work in PR. I’m a psych student.”
“Yes, and that’s exactly why we need you.” She approached me, her heels clicking against the marbled floors.
"Why don't we strike a deal and make things easy for both parties?"
"How?" I threw my hands wide open.
"The whole world knows that Malik likes blondes. Yesterday, everyone thought you were some fan who wanted her moment with him. They are calling you the librarian clout-chaser. Why don’t we spin the narrative?”
I was begining to get a headache from this.
"I think I'll take my leave now."
One step. Two steps.
"Be Malik’s pretend girlfriend for three months. Help him clean his bad boy reputation, and I will make sure your disseration gets signed by your supervisor. If the team, is happy with the results of this PR relationship, you’ll receive a fat bonus when all is said and done.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"I have a boyfriend that I love," I explained.
"Please, Sloane. It's not a real relationship. It's for the cameras. I'm sure your loving boyfriend would understand that we both have something to gain."
"I..."
The door flew wide open, and the man from yesterday, the man who saved me, stepped in.
"Is this some form of conspiracy against me?" He asked.
"No, but we were talking about how to give you a good public image. One that doesn't allow this four hundred million dollar brand deal slip from your fingers, and that doesn't allow you to get suspended because of your bad behavior." The woman who asked me to fake date the star said.
"And what the fuck is going to stop me from doing that?"
"A girlfriend."
All of the color drained from his face.
Like the term 'girlfriend' was foreign.
"Is that a joke?"
"No, I'm serious."
"Well, I hope you at least found me a sexy blonde with big boobs and an ass to die for. I don't want any boring shit in my life." He spat.
I wanted the ground to open and swallow me whole.
"Actually, I'd love for you to meet your new girlfriend. Sloane Murphy." She gestured at me, and Malik's gaze swept over me meticulously. From my glasses, to my blouse, to my skirt, then my flats.
He shook his head in disapproval.
"Ella, you're joking, right?" Malik asked the lady, and she shook her head.
"What the actual fuck! You want me to be in a stupid fake relationship with someone, and you didn't even bring a woman who looks like she's seen the inside of a bedroom. The fuck am I gonna do with a librarian who's waiting for the bus?" He barked out, storming off angrily.