Chapter 468 - The Man Everyone Wants II

Chapter 468: Chapter 468 - The Man Everyone Wants II

"Excuse me, everyone."

A member of the Giants’ media relations staff approached the front of the room.

Several conversations stopped.

"We’ll be continuing with the remaining player interviews shortly. For those waiting on Mr. Prescott, he’s expected to join us after his scheduled team obligations."

The room immediately became more animated.

A photographer near the front started adjusting his camera. Two reporters hurried toward the seats closest to the interview area, while several others checked their phones.

Roxie watched the reaction with disbelief.

They were acting as though the president had just announced an unexpected press conference.

She’d covered events involving actual presidents, and she’d seen less excitement.

"Any idea how long he’ll be available?" someone asked.

"We’re expecting a brief media session," the staff member answered. "Please keep your questions focused on the upcoming season."

"Will he be taking individual interviews?"

"We haven’t scheduled any one-on-one interviews today."

Several reporters looked disappointed.

Roxie almost smiled.

Apparently, Zac’s representatives had found a very efficient way to disappoint an entire room at once.

Ben appeared beside her again.

"You’re staying, right?"

She glanced at him.

"I’ve still got a report to finish."

"Then you’re in luck. If he says anything interesting, you’ve got your headline."

Roxie considered that.

He had a point.

Her editor would undoubtedly expect her to include footage of the team’s biggest star, particularly if Zac discussed the upcoming season.

Avoiding him because of their personal history would be ridiculous.

She was a professional journalist.

She’d interviewed politicians she couldn’t stand, questioned executives who’d lied directly to her face, and conducted live broadcasts during situations considerably more stressful than a room full of football reporters.

She could handle one arrogant quarterback.

Even if that quarterback happened to be her ex-boyfriend.

Who’d spent an entire night in her hotel room.

Fuck.

She really needed to stop thinking about that.

Roxie opened her notebook and reviewed the questions she’d prepared.

She’d originally intended to ask the coaching staff about the team’s offensive adjustments, but now that Zac was expected, she could direct a few questions toward him instead.

What did he think about the changes to the offense? How was he approaching the upcoming season? What specific improvements did he believe the team needed?

Ordinary football questions.

Nothing personal.

She could ask them, record his answers, and leave.

That would be the end of it.

Except Mason’s words kept returning to her.

The Giants fans alone would probably give you more views than your entire channel has right now.

She hated that he was probably right.

Roxie glanced toward the growing crowd.

Some reporters were discussing the possibility of an exclusive interview. Others were talking about Zac’s endorsement deals, his investments, and how rarely he spoke publicly about his personal life.

One woman mentioned that she’d been trying to secure a feature interview for almost eight months.

Eight months.

Roxie stared at her.

What the hell?

She knew Zac could be stubborn, but surely he couldn’t be that difficult to schedule.

Then she remembered that he owned several businesses, had a demanding football career, and probably received more interview requests in a single week than most people did in a lifetime.

He also had the personality of an incredibly expensive brick wall whenever he decided he didn’t want to talk.

Perhaps eight months wasn’t surprising after all.

"That’s a lot of people waiting for one man," her camera operator remarked when he returned.

Roxie looked around.

"Apparently."

"Prescott always draws a crowd."

"So I’ve heard."

"Want me to set up for a quick interview if there’s an opening?"

She considered the question.

An interview.

With Zac.

"Set up for the media session," she answered. "We’ll get whatever footage we can."

He nodded and headed toward the equipment.

Roxie stayed where she was, watching the other reporters move closer to the front.

She wondered what Zac would do when he saw her.

Would he acknowledge her?

Ignore her?

Give her that same cold look he’d worn on their last morning in Italy?

She’d spent almost three weeks trying to convince herself that she didn’t care what he thought.

And she didn’t.

At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

Their breakup had happened ten years ago. They’d built separate lives, achieved their own success, and apparently become very different people.

Whatever happened in Lake Como had been a terrible lapse in judgment.

One she intended to forget.

"He’s here."

The words came from somewhere behind her.

Roxie looked up.

A reporter near the entrance had straightened, his attention fixed on the hallway.

Several photographers immediately raised their cameras.

The conversations around her became louder, then gradually quieted as people turned toward the doors.

Roxie felt an unpleasant tightening in her stomach.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

She knew that reaction.

She hated that reaction.

There was no reason to feel nervous.

She was at work, surrounded by journalists, preparing to cover a professional football event.

That was all.

Then the doors opened.

A member of the team’s media staff entered first, followed by two men wearing Giants training apparel.

And behind them came Zac Prescott.

Roxie had seen him in photographs plenty of times since returning from Italy, but apparently, photographs did very little to prepare her for seeing him in person again.

He wore a fitted Giants training shirt and dark athletic pants, his broad shoulders filling the doorway as he entered. His hair was shorter on the sides, slightly damp at the top, and part of the tattoo along his right arm showed beneath his sleeve.

His expression was serious. He’d always been that way whenever football was involved.

Typical Zac.

He spoke briefly to one of the staff members, nodded toward the reporters, and made his way toward the front.

Cameras started clicking.

Several journalists called his name.

"Zac! Over here!"

"Prescott, can we get a comment on the offensive changes?"

"How are you feeling about the upcoming season?"

He raised a hand, acknowledging the questions without stopping.

Roxie watched the entire room respond to him.

God.

Mason hadn’t been exaggerating.

People were practically falling over themselves for a chance to speak with him.

She looked at the camera operators repositioning their equipment and the reporters pushing forward with their microphones.

All that attention.

All those potential viewers.

And the man responsible for all that attention was someone she’d once argued with about leaving dirty socks on the bedroom floor.

What a ridiculous fucking world.

Roxie stood frozen, watching the reporters crowd toward him, calling his name and trying to get his attention. Cameras flashed, microphones were raised, and people who had probably been waiting for hours suddenly looked excited just because he’d walked into the room.

She remembered when Zac used to talk about becoming an NFL player. Back then, almost every conversation about their future started with when. When he got drafted. When he signed his first contract. When he became famous enough that people would recognize him everywhere.

He’d been so ridiculously confident about it, too. Sometimes she’d laugh at him for talking as though everything had already been decided, and he’d tell her to remember his words because one day she’d be watching him play on television.

And she’d believed him.

God, she’d believed in that boy so much.

She remembered the nights when they’d lie together discussing everything they wanted to accomplish. He’d talk about becoming a famous quarterback, buying an enormous house, and giving her everything she’d ever wanted. She’d argue that she intended to make her own money, and he’d laugh, telling her she could have her career while he spoiled her anyway.

They’d been so young, making all those plans as though the future was something they were going to experience together.

Roxie looked at the man standing several feet away, surrounded by reporters desperate for a few minutes of his attention.

There was no when anymore.

Zac had become exactly who he’d promised her he would be. The famous quarterback, the enormous contracts, the money, the recognition. He’d accomplished everything he’d talked about when they were younger.

And she’d accomplished her own dreams, too. She’d become an award-winning journalist, built a successful career, and made a name for herself.

Yet somehow, standing in that room, she felt how far apart their lives had become.

Ten years ago, she’d been the girl sitting beside him while he talked excitedly about his future. Now she was standing among dozens of journalists, watching them compete for the attention of the man she’d once imagined spending the rest of her life with.

For a moment, her eyes stung.

Oh, fuck.

Roxie blinked several times and lowered her gaze to her notebook.

What the hell was wrong with her?

She was supposed to be covering a football event, and here she was getting emotional because her ex-boyfriend had finally achieved his childhood dream.

She swallowed and straightened her shoulders.

She really needed to get herself together.

Zac reached the front of the room and turned toward the journalists and his gaze moved across the crowd.

Then his eyes settled on Roxie.

She felt her stomach tighten.

Fuck.

He’d seen her.

His expression remained cold, although his eyes stayed on her long enough that she knew he recognized her.

Roxie lifted her chin.

She was wearing a press credential. She had her notebook, her recorder, and an actual assignment to complete.

If he had a problem with her being there, he could take it up with the New York Giants.

Zac looked away.

Just like that.

The media relations representative stepped toward the microphone.

"All right, everyone. We’ve got a few minutes with Zac. Let’s keep the questions focused on football."

Almost immediately, a dozen hands went up.

Roxie glanced at the reporters around her, then down at the questions in her notebook.

She could ask him about the upcoming season. She could take his answers back to Crestline and complete a perfectly respectable sports report.

Or she could attempt the ridiculous thing Mason had suggested at dinner.

An exclusive interview.

Forty minutes with Zac Prescott.

She looked toward him again.

He was already answering a question about the team’s preparations, his face serious and his voice controlled.

The same man who’d told her to forget everything that happened between them in Italy.

The same man who’d accused her of finding another boyfriend too easily.

And apparently, the one celebrity who could rescue her struggling YouTube show.

Roxie tightened her grip on her notebook.

Goddammit, Mason.

Why did he have to put that idea in her head?

Roxie looked down at the questions she’d prepared, then toward Zac.

Fuck it.

She raised her hand.

"Roxie Jones, Crestline News Network."

Zac’s attention shifted toward her.

She smiled professionally.

"I have a question."