I walked into the office on Thursday with my eyes glued to my phone screen, where a dozen Instagram notifications stared back at my dumbstruck face.
I’d woken up to find that Vince fucking Tanev had followed me.
He’d also liked six of my photos.
I couldn’t wrap my head around how he’d found out my name, let alone why he would have had the balls to follow me and to not even try to hide the fact that he’d scrolled through my profile.
One of the photos he’d liked was my most recent, me and Livia in our gowns at the gala with champagne flutes tipped to our lips.
But he’d also liked one of me in my hammock that I posted last month, and one of me with my parents when we’d done beach cleanup in the spring, and one from my meditation retreat last fall.
The motherfucker had stalked me, and hadn’t even been the least bit ashamed. It was like he wanted me to know.
I was still blinking in half-confusion, half-irritation at his audacity when I swung into my office. My heels click-clacked on the marble floor, and I slung my purse over the hook on the back of my door before flopping down into my chair.
My mouth was a little dry as I clicked on his profile.
Vince Tanev
41
your friendly Tampa Bay Ospreys ice king
also known as Vince Cool or Tanny Boy
I snorted at the ice king reference, tapping my thumb on his most recent photograph. It was a professional one I assumed was taken by someone who worked for the team, and it showed him celebrating a goal at their away game earlier in the week.
Clicking out of it, I scrolled past photo after photo of him on the ice, broken up only by him in well-tailored suits showing up to the game, or hanging out with his teammates at the bars they loved to frequent after a win.
I paused when I saw one of him posing with a youth hockey team, clicking to view it bigger. Then, I swiped through the carousel of images showing him skating with the young players and signing sticks and pucks.
“Real genuine,” I mumbled under my breath.
It was almost disappointing, how much his profile confirmed exactly what I’d assumed about him. He was just another cocky playboy athlete with no concept of the real world.
Just like my ex.
James Baldridge had swept me off my feet so quickly it was dizzying. We were in our junior year of college, both drunk at a party when we stumbled into each other. The connection was instant, the sex was hot, and we couldn’t get enough of one another.
The more time we spent together, the more we started falling.
We were soul mates — at least, that’s what it felt like.
But we were complete opposites — him from a well-off family who spent their summers in the Hamptons with Livia’s, and me from a family of hippies who spent our summers tending to our garden. He was well known on campus, the best golfer on the university team and one of the best in the nation. He would go on to play in the PGA Tour, and no one doubted it — not then, not ever in his life.
Meanwhile, I was aimless, getting a communications major with no idea how I would use it. He had aspirations for a future in professional golf, while I was content to waste a day at the beach or volunteering at a local animal shelter.
But that was what I loved most about James. He made me feel safe to be exactly who I was, made me feel like he loved me for me. It was such a refreshing change from all the losers I’d hooked up with in high school and the first couple years of college. James didn’t play games. James showed me what a healthy relationship was. James was end game.
I didn’t realize just how much we didn’t mix — not until I was on his arm at his brother’s wedding.
I was underdressed, unimpressive, and so far from welcome it was painful. I could still close my eyes and feel those judgmental stares from every corner of the venue, how they assessed me and found me wanting.
The only thing that got me through that experience was knowing James loved me, regardless of my status. We were already talking about having a wedding of our own. We were solid. I believed everything he said to me when he swore it didn’t matter that we were different, that our families were different.
He loved me for me, and we were strong enough to weather any storm.
Except the very next weekend after his brother’s wedding, he broke up with me — and his parents made sure I understood why.
It had been two years, and still, my chest stung with the reminder of that heartbreak, of how I’d held fast to every memory of our relationship, and sobbed for a week straight before I finally shoved it all into a box.
I still had that box, though.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to let go of it, of him, entirely.
I was vaguely aware that it wasn’t fair to judge an entire class or system by the action of one jerk and his family, but since no one had yet to prove me wrong, I was steadfast in my beliefs.
And Vince Tanev was of the James Baldridge variety — that I was sure of.
I scrolled all the way to the top of his profile again, tapping on the little arrow that would take me back to my feed.
Except my nail hit the edge of my phone case, and my thumb dropped down on his profile picture instead — therefore, pulling up his latest story.
“Shit,” I cursed, clicking out of it before I even saw what it was. Panic zipped through me with mortification right on its heels.
And then I laughed out loud at myself, because the likelihood that Vince Cool ever looked at who viewed his stories was nonexistent.
But what if he did?
“Good morning, gorgeous.”
I jumped a little at the knock that came on my doorframe with those words, locking my phone screen and tossing it on my desk. Reya didn’t seem to notice as she slid inside the office with Camilla on her heels.
Reya and Camilla were the founders of Tampa Bae Babes. Both Cuban-American and born and raised in the area, it had started as nothing more than two best friends posting about the places they loved around the Bay. Reya had long brown hair, wide brown eyes, an athletic, petite body, and the kind of calm and inviting smile that could make you confess all your secrets. Camilla, on the other hand, was tall and slender like a model, with short hair angled at her chin, sharp facial features, and gray eyes that sparked with her goofy grin. Where Reya was calm and serene, Camilla was loud and enigmatic, the two of them together making the perfect storm.
Somewhere along the way, they’d become the number one source for locals and tourists, alike.
They went from only running an Instagram, to having real estate on every social channel imaginable, including TikToks that went viral without them trying, a YouTube channel with more views than any other Tampa-based outlet, and the podcast, which had crested half-a-million listeners at the end of last year.
Everyone knew the Babes. They weren’t just gorgeous, but funny and smart, too. They were like celebrities when they ventured out on the town, and one visit from them could catapult a local business overnight.
One area they were lacking in, however, was community wellness, which was a big reason why they’d pulled me on to work for them. Of course, they were also lacking in the sports arena, and according to their business strategy, that ranked higher.
“We have the opportunity of a lifetime for you,” Camilla said, clapping her hands like she was going to burst at the seams while she waited for Reya to tell me what this opportunity was.
“Your coverage of the Gibson Gala is our highest performing content of the week. The owners of all three teams have reached out to tell us how much they appreciated us being there,” Reya said. “They’ve had numerous sponsorship offers roll in, and they’re tickled pink.”
“That’s great,” I mused.
“And,” Camilla added with one finger pointed into the air. “The general manager of the Ospreys loved the attention we brought to their philanthropic efforts, particularly that delicious photograph of Vince Tanev and his handmade vase that raised ten-thousand dollars.”
I’d never fought so hard not to roll my eyes in my life.
“He loved it so much,” Reya continued. “That he asked if we had any ideas to drum up excitement now that the season is underway. We have four back-to-back home games in early November, and he wants to pack the stands.”
“We pitched an idea off the cuff,” Camilla said, and my head whipped between the two trying to keep up.
“Thinking no way would he go for it,” Reya added.
“But he did!”
Camilla and Reya bounced excitedly, and I just blinked before a little laugh puffed out of me. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my desk. “Go on, spit it out.”
“We have a Tampa Bae Babes exclusive, something never done before.” Camilla spread her hands over the space between us as if she was painting a picture. “One Month with Tampa’s Hotshot Rookie — Vince Cool.”
I hoped I kept my features schooled when those words tumbled out of my boss’s mouth, that I didn’t blink too much and she couldn’t hear how tight my throat was with my next smile.
“Okay…” I said carefully.
“It’s all-access,” Reya said. “Twenty-four-seven coverage. We’re going to set up dedicated profiles on our major-hitting platforms. Think daily Reels and TikToks, exclusive sit-down interviews and days in the life on YouTube, podcast specials, stories, tweet updates.”
Camilla cut in. “And you will be the main face of it all.”
“Me?” I squeaked.
She nodded enthusiastically. “They loved you at the gala. Unsurprisingly. I mean, you’re gorgeous, and smart, and the content you created was top notch.”
“They’ve agreed to give us a closer look than any local news outlet has had before,” Reya continued. “You’ll be at the games, home and away, in the locker room, at practices, at his home, out at the bars, all of it.” She waved her hands excitedly. “We’re going to have every resident of Tampa Bay foaming at the mouth.”
“Probably half the country, too, because that man is fine,” Camilla added, fanning herself with a smile.
“Are we sure this is the right move for us?” I asked, hoping I sounded like a smart partner offering a strategic question rather than the panicking mess I actually was on the inside.
“It’s a dream move,” Camilla answered easily. “This was our goal, to get a strong foothold in the sports arena. There’s a rabid female fanbase here in Tampa that is going to lose their minds.”
“It’ll also bring in a higher population of male viewers,” Reya added. “Which we need. Desperately.”
I knew I didn’t have a leg to stand on when it came to arguing with them. They were right. On paper, this was the opportunity of a lifetime.
But Vince Tanev was a playboy and a prick, and I wanted this assignment about as badly as I wanted my arm chewed off by rats.
“What about focusing more on the people the Ospreys highlight at each game as their community heroes?” I tried, pathetically. “They choose someone from the Bay each game who’s doing real work to give back. Let’s take it beyond getting a check and a two-minute spotlight at the game. What if we could really use our platform to elevate their community efforts?”
My beautiful bosses blinked at me, then at each other, before Reya offered me a sweet, sympathetic smile.
“Look, we hear you. We know that’s your goal, and it’s one of ours, too.”
“But this is huge,” Camilla cut in. “Like, unheard of.”
“And, honestly, it’s the perfect segue,” Reya added. “Vince Tanev is known for being charitable and spending time in the community. You can showcase that and shine light on how involved the Ospreys are.”
I suffocated the groan I wanted to unleash at that. Even if I did point out the fact that all players did that shit for public relations purposes, it wouldn’t change their minds.
This was my assignment, whether I liked it or not.
It had been a dream come true when I was pulled onto the TBB team. I was the only one outside of the founders to have a front-facing role. Sure, we had assistants and administrators, researchers and media buyers, account managers and creative directors, but I was a Babe.
I was making more money than I ever dreamed of — doing something that I loved — with the opportunity to have my own segment inciting the change I’d always hoped to.
I loved this job.
And if this little segment was part of the journey to get me where I really wanted to be, then so be it.
“Okay,” I said on an exhale.
The girls squealed in delight, and then I was yanked up out of my chair and wrapped in a hug by both of them. I laughed and hugged them back.
“This is going to be so fun,” Camilla exclaimed.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “The funnest.”
“Just wait until we tell you what the Ospreys are paying for this,” Reya said, waggling her brows. “You’re going to be living the sweet life during this assignment. They’re footing the bill for everything. I’m talking lavish hotels, a condo in the same building as his, a per diem so high you could eat at Michelin Star restaurants for every meal…”
She ambled on, but her voice went fuzzy in my ears. My eyes flicked to my phone, thinking about the bizarre notifications I’d scrolled through that morning.
I wondered how Vince Tanev would respond to the news.
But not as much as I wondered how I was going to survive a month up close and personal with the cockiest sonofabitch I’d ever met.
And the hottest one, too.
