Chapter 7 You're About To Find Out

My pulse is hammering so loud against his palm that I’m sure he can feel every frantic beat. The office is suddenly too small, the air too thick, every breath I take pulling more of his scent into my lungs.

Cole’s eyes are dark and locked on mine as he leans in until his lips brush the shell of my ear.

“How many times,” he murmurs in a low voice, “do I have to tell you, Riley Bennett, to watch how you talk to me?”

A shiver races down my spine. I try to swallow but his grip makes it difficult. He doesn’t move, doesn't loosen his hold.

“Since words don’t seem to be cutting it,” he continues, his breath warm against my skin, “I might just have to demonstrate the repercussions of disobeying me.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, I feel a trail of heat pool between my legs so fast I have to press my thighs together. I open my mouth to say something... anything... but nothing seems comes out.

Then just like that, he releases me.

His hand drops away and he steps back a single pace, putting enough space between us that I can breathe again. My skin feels cold where he touched me. I sway forward half an inch before I catch myself.

He watches me quietly for a moment with an unreadable expression. Meanwhile, I’m doing everything in my power to hide the flush creeping up my cheeks.

“I don’t want you to leave the team,” he says suddenly. The words catch me off guard. I blink.

“You could have fooled me,” I say when I finally find my voice.

“You think I took the captaincy to punish you?”

I cross my arms, trying to reclaim some control. “Didn’t you?”

He shakes his head. “You have more potential than every other girl on that roster combined. You’re our star player and we’re heading into our biggest season yet. Only a fool would let personal issues overshadow that.”

I cross my arms defensively despite myself. “Then why did you take the captaincy from me?”

“Because you confuse dominance with leadership,” he replies without hesitation. “A good captain knows how to work with others, not overpower them. You bulldoze. You overshadow. And worse... you don’t listen.”

The words sting because they are uncomfortably accurate. On the field today, every time Sarah baited me, every time I pushed harder just to prove I could, I was doing exactly what he’s accusing me of. I think of drills I have ignored, of teammates I have snapped at, of moments where winning mattered more to me than cohesion. I hate that he sees it so clearly.

“You’re stubborn,” he continues. “Strong-headed. It’s part of what makes you exceptional, and part of what will ruin you if you don’t learn control.”

“And you think humiliating me is teaching?” I ask.

“I think,” he says calmly, “that you’ve never been challenged in a way that forces you to adjust.”

I swallow. My anger is still there, but it is tangled now with something else. Reluctant understanding.

I look away and cross my arms over my chest. “Fine. You’re right. Happy?”

“Not yet.” He steps closer again. “I can teach you.”

My gaze snaps back to his. “Teach me what?”

“How to listen. How to obey. How to be the leader this team actually needs.” His voice drops.

“How would you teach me?”

“By stripping away bad habits,” he says. “By enforcing discipline, and by making sure you understand consequences. I propose a private one on one mentorship, if you agree.”

I suck in a quiet breath, weighing my options.

“And if I say no?”

“Then you continue in the team and figure things out o your own. Or you can walk out that door and quit like you said you would. It's your choice, really.”

I stare at him. “And if I agree?”

“Then the first lesson starts now.”

I study him for a moment, staring at the man who once held me like I was everything and then acted like I was nothing. At the coach who just stripped me of the one thing I’ve worked years to earn. At the only person who’s ever made my body react before my brain could catch up.

I lick my lips, then nod. “I agree.”

“Good.” He nods toward the desk behind him. “First lesson starts now. Go over to my desk and bend over it.”

I blink. “What?”

“Now, Riley.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off before the words can form. “Obey before you complain. That’s lesson two.”

“What’s lesson one?” I ask, nervously.

“You’re about to find out.”