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  SECOND CHANCE SCANDAL

  M. ROBINSON

  COPYRIGHT© 2022 Second Chance Scandal by M. Robinson

  * * *

  All rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All characters are a figment of the author’s imagination, and all incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s mind's eye and are not to be interpreted as real. Though several people, places, and events portrayed in this book are correct, the story is fiction that the author has made up for entertainment purposes only.

  Created with Vellum

  To Leeann Van Rensburg

  * * *

  I am so beyond grateful for you! You’ve been my alpha reader for six years and I can always count on you for feedback as soon as I need it. Thank you so much for being on this journey with me.

  * * *

  I love you.

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  The end

  Meet M. Robinson

  Acknowledgments

  PROLOGUE

  JAX

  SEVEN YEARS AGO

  “How does it feel to be known as the greatest of all time?”

  I smiled at the reporter’s question. “It feels great.”

  I'd spent the last hour at this damn press junket, and all I kept thinking about was getting the hell out of here. I needed to unwind and have a fucking drink.

  For the next twenty minutes, question after question was thrown in my face. The more personal it was, the better the ratings were. I knew how this game was played, having a love/hate relationship with the press since I’d began playing for Miami five years ago.

  “Jax,” the same reporter called out. “Do you think you’re ever going to settle down?”

  I grinned. “Not anytime soon.”

  The same journalist added, “Do you see yourself getting married maybe? Starting a family? A son who could possibly carry on your legacy?”

  I resisted the urge to tell him to go fuck himself.

  “Have any of the models you’ve been seen with this past month finally caught your attention enough to possibly become a girlfriend?” another reporter asked, bringing my attention over to her.

  “I don’t have time for any distractions that include anything more than no strings attached.”

  My answer seemed to appease them. They didn’t ask about my personal life for the rest of the interview. Instead, we spoke stats which was always my favorite.

  Once the conference was over, I jumped in my truck and hightailed it out of there. I was ready to get my night started with some booze and women. I wasn’t a big drinker, but with the way I had been feeling I needed it. I wanted to let go for the evening, craving liquor and pussy.

  It wasn’t hard for me to pick up groupies—they threw their panties at me. Especially when they saw me out on the town. By the time I’d made it to the bar, it was packed to the rim with people, some I recognized and others I didn’t. I ordered a Jack and Coke before meeting up with a couple teammates. We hung out, drinking and shooting the shit about nothing in particular, before I needed a break from the stifling atmosphere.

  Excusing myself, I made my way out onto the empty balcony, wanting a change of scenery for a few minutes. It was hotter than Hell in there, and I wasn’t a fan of big crowds beyond the stadium. I leaned against the railing and rested my elbows on it, taking in the people dancing inside, when all of a sudden the music changed to a much slower beat. I narrowed my eyes, trying to get a better look at the girl in the center of the dance floor with her back to me.

  Her long hair cascaded down her back as her hips seductively swayed to the rhythm of the song. She was wearing a tight backless white dress that accentuated all the curves of her body, leaving very little to the imagination. I stood there amazed and in awe of the woman dancing, with all eyes on her as she slowly worked her hands up toward her head to run her fingers through her hair, holding it up off her back.

  Biting my bottom lip, I imagined her doing exactly that while she rode my cock and screamed out my name. The way she danced was so unbelievably fucking sexy, but it wasn’t like every other girl I was used to seeing. She wasn’t dancing for anyone but herself. She rocked her hips and spun around, finally turning to face me.

  Describing this woman wouldn’t do her justice. The lighting in the room was dim, and I couldn’t see her as much as I wanted to. Her eyes were closed, oblivious to all the stares that were solely fixated on her. She didn’t give a flying fuck who was around, who was talking, who was dancing which only drew my attraction to her more.

  I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly becoming dry from the vision before my eyes. My gaze traveled down her body. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and I could see her nipples peeking through her clingy dress. She had the tiniest waist and curvy hips. An hourglass figure, exactly how I liked. The front of her dress was a deep V down her chest. My eyes wandered up to her face at the exact moment we locked eyes from across the room.

  It was like she could feel my intense stare focused on her. I actually sucked in a visible breath, seeing her eyes for the first time. She looked so angelic, although I could tell she was anything but pure simply based on the way she was eye-fucking the shit out of me in that moment.

  She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her gaze, taking me in as much as I had taken her in seconds ago. The music changed to a much faster beat, and the dance floor quickly began filling up again. Crowds of bodies started to surround her, but she didn’t let that deter her regard over me.

  A sense of familiarity filled my bones.

  Do I know her?

  Slowly, she walked in my direction, parting through the men and women. She never broke our deep connection. I was still leaning against the railing, one leg placed over the other as I raised my glass to my lips, imagining the way her skin would feel beneath my mouth.

  She was as intoxicating as the liquor in my hand.

  I watched the way her hips swayed, the way her tits bounced, the way she licked her lips, making my dick twitch at the mere sight of her striding toward me with a finesse I’d never seen on another woman.

  She stepped out onto the balcony and slid the door closed behind her, angling her body in a way that only made me want to devour every last fucking inch of her.

  From her lips.

  To her nipples.

  To her fucking clit.

  The smell of the night air, the aroma of her mixed in with a scent I couldn’t place—something tempting, sinful, devouring all my senses, and the only thing I could think about was how much I wanted to kiss her mouth.

  Without saying a word, she gradually eyed me up and down with a fascinated expression until she locked eyes with me again. Grinning like a damn fool, I waited. Trying to play it
off like she wasn’t having an effect on me when, in fact, she was consuming every last fiber of my being.

  I’d been drinking a lot, my head was hazy, and now with the lighting brighter I started to recognize her.

  With wide eyes, I stood there frozen.

  Until she declared, “Cat got your tongue, Quarterback?”

  It was then that I knew I was right, and it all made sense.

  “Sophie?”

  “Are you saying you don’t recognize me?”

  I hadn’t seen her since the night I’d broke her heart. She’d always been a beautiful girl, but now she was every bit of a stunning woman.

  “The line at the bar is at least twenty people deep. How about you be a gentleman and share your drink?”

  I didn’t give it a second thought. I nodded for her to come over to me, and she didn’t waver. In four strides she was standing in front of my face, and I knew right then and there…

  I. Was. Fucked.

  ONE

  JAX

  NOW

  “How the fuck did this get out, Caleb?” I slammed the Sports Illustrated magazine on the table. There in front of our eyes was a ten-page spread on my future with the NFL.

  All hell broke loose with the news of my trade from Miami to Fort Worth, spreading like wildfire in a fucking forest. There was no hiding it anymore. It was all over social media, and the press was eating me alive.

  My agent, Caleb, held his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “I’m handling it, Jax.”

  “You’re handling it?” I scoffed out in a snide breath. “If you were handling it, then I wouldn’t be on the front cover of every magazine with the headline ‘TRAITOR’ in big, bold lettering!”

  “I didn’t leak the story, Jax.”

  “Well, someone sure as shit did, and it’s your job to figure it out—so why are you standing in front of me with your dick tucked in between your legs? You should be out there doing damage control! How could you let this happen? I pay you to make sure shit like this doesn’t happen behind my back. What part of that do you not understand?”

  He deeply sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You knew the consequences of your decision to trade, Jax.”

  “Yeah, Caleb! On my fucking terms! Instead, I was blindsided this morning with bullshit that shouldn’t have hit the press for another two weeks.”

  Caleb inhaled another deep breath before dropping his hand to look at me.

  “Whether it was today or two weeks from now, the headlines wouldn’t have changed. We’ve discussed this several times this past year, so these headlines shouldn’t come as a surprise to you. You’ve been playing for Miami since the start of your career, which is almost thirteen years ago. Your diehard fans are going to be pissed regardless of when the news was shared, and you know it.”

  I angrily threw myself back into my office chair, knowing he was right. Nothing would soften the blow of my choice to leave a team that was like my family.

  The only one I’d ever known.

  “You need to relax, alright? I’m handling it. This isn’t the first time you’ve been caught in a scandal, Jax, and we both damn well know this isn’t going to be the last.”

  I shook my head, narrowing my eyes at him. “I can’t help the fact that women love to make up stories about me to the media, Caleb.”

  “Well…” He adamantly nodded. “Maybe if you stopped fucking them over, they wouldn’t have a reason to make up stories about you. I know, crazy concept and all.”

  “Or maybe”—I nodded at him, fully aware of where he was going with this—“if they stopped thinking they could change me, it wouldn’t feel that way to them. I make no secrets of who I am, Caleb. If they want to put me up on a pedestal and think I’m their happily ever after, then that’s on them, not me.”

  “I’m just saying it’d be great if you kept your dick in your pants for once.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t pay you to have an opinion on where I thrust my cock, Caleb.”

  “Let’s make something perfectly fucking clear, Jax. I don’t give a rat’s ass where you stick your dick as long as you don’t shit where you eat. Understood?”

  “How many times do I have to tell you that I have no interest in fucking any coach’s daughter?”

  “As many times as it takes for it to stick in your thick skull.”

  I scoffed out another snide breath. “I haven’t done it yet, and trust me, the opportunity has definitely presented itself on more than one occasion. Besides, I make no promises to the women I casually hook up with, and it’s bullshit you’re even comparing the two. The women are petty scandals. If the press wants to talk about my bed-hopping ways to sell magazines, then so be it. This”—I lifted the Sports Illustrated cover in between us—“is attacking my character. I didn’t trade for the money, Caleb! I don’t give a shit about the money, and that’s the narrative on every single cover story.”

  “They’re going to write what makes them sales, Jax. At the end of the day, drama makes money. I know that, and so do you. I’ll fix it, okay? Don’t I always?”

  I nodded because he did. In whatever way, shape, or form, Caleb always came through with the best contracts, the best contacts, the best everything and anything. He fought for me and with me, being my biggest ally and best friend since he’d become my agent at the start of my NFL career.

  We met in college through our fraternity. He was a few years older than me. A senior when I became his little brother my freshman year. This had always been our dynamic. We fought like brothers.

  It was what happened when you put two alphas together in one cage.

  No matter the situation, I knew he always had my best interest at heart. Just like he knew I’d always be there for him at the drop of a dime if needed. We were family, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to wring his fucking neck for allowing this to happen under our noses.

  The press didn’t mind their own damn business on a normal day, let alone on an occasion like today where all eyes were on me. For the past year, rumors of my trade ran rampant in the media. It was the question of the hour—everywhere I went the press hounded me about my future with Miami.

  Trust me, the decision to leave wasn’t one I ever took lightly. I’d been considering it for years, and when the opportunity presented itself to finally take over a team that I could not only lead, but coach, it wasn’t something I was willing to overlook or pass up.

  Miami wasn’t listening to my demands, and after almost thirteen years, it was time for us to part ways. I wasn’t just a quarterback—I was the best quarterback in the league and had been since the beginning of my career. I knew my worth, and this wasn’t me being cocky—this was me being honest.

  Reporters were already talking shit and running their mouths, saying I traded for the money, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth. I had more money than I knew what to do with. This had nothing to do with my salary, and everything to do with the thrill of it all. The challenge and victory of taking something from nothing and making it the best it could be.

  Football wasn’t just my job—it was my life. I’d been playing since I was five-years-old, and Miami wasn’t allowing me the liberties I felt owed, so I found a team that would. Now having it be my hometown was just a bonus to sign on the dotted line.

  Caleb brought my attention back to him, adding, “So how about instead of jumping down my throat, you say hello to the woman who’s going to save our asses.”

  Before I could ask him to elaborate, the familiar sound of a woman’s heels connecting on my hardwood floor shifted my eyes over to my office door. As soon as I saw her bright red hair walking into my space, I couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow.

  “Autumn,” I announced, surprised with the turn of events. “What are you doing here?”

  She smiled, nodding at me. “To put it bluntly, as your agent said, I’m here to save your asses.”

  I grinned. “Is that right?”

  Autumn was known as the best publicist in
the industry. She’d been one for over ten years. The last time I saw her was when I was visiting my best friend Kinley in our hometown of Fort Worth, Texas. Kinley still lived there with her husband, Christian, who was Autumn’s older brother. Autumn was married to Julian, best known as Alpha CEO with his businesses, and he just happened to be Christian’s best friend.

  We all grew up together, although Autumn was younger than us by a few years. Her brother and I weren’t exactly what you’d call friends.

  However, over the years, we hated each other less and less. When we were in high school and college, he hated the fact that Kinley and I used to have sleepovers, often fighting over his then girlfriend’s attention.

  After they got married, when we graduated from college, we still didn’t really care for one another. A year ago, they were getting a divorce, but life had other plans in store for them.

  I made a mental note to have my assistant book a flight out to meet their newborn son soon. Kinley was the only woman in my life I never fucked or fucked over. She was like my sister, and I, her brother. We looked out for each other, both of us coming from broken homes.

  She was in and out of foster homes, and I didn’t feel like I ever had a home. My father was never around, constantly traveling for work, and cheating on my mother was what he did best.

  In fact, the night before I was moving to Miami to start football camp for the new season, my whole world was turned upside down.