The Office Bet, page 1
The Office Bet
King Sports Book 2
Eden Finley
Contents
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
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
40. Epilogue
Thank you!
Also by Eden Finley
The Office Bet © 2025 by Eden Finley
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Eden Finley
Photographer: Wander Aguiar
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Chapter 1
Fox
There are only three things I’ve ever been passionate about in my life: my family, sports, and hating Archer Holloway.
He’s been a pain in my ass ever since he transferred from the New York office, where he interned four years ago. I was lucky enough to be chosen to be the sole intern here in LA, so I see this as my turf, and he’s done nothing but encroach on it since the day he stepped foot in this office.
Most sports agents are dude bros who are all about pranks and picking on the little guy. The majority of agents are failed athletes themselves, so they’re used to that kind of toxic environment where putting down someone else makes them feel like some kind of alpha male. King Sports is supposed to be different, and mostly, it is. I have loved working here. My bosses are great, the CEO is an inspiration, and with it being an inclusive agency, working here has been a dream.
Until him.
I’m used to being the picked-on kid. I’m not athletic and never have been, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love sports. I may have never been able to play the games I love, but getting paid to watch my athletes thrive is the next best thing. They do the hard work, like diet and exercise and keeping in peak physical form, while I get to sit behind a desk and put my MBA to good use.
I originally went into sports journalism in college, but my sophomore year, I realized I could make bank by becoming an agent.
I worked my ass off to get here, and here I am, doing it. Loving it. There’s only one thing I hate about it, and that’s Archer.
I’ve learned to expect him to try to snipe my clients, to beat me to meetings with athletes—even though we don’t have a lot of overlap with the kinds of clients we rep—and to backstab anyone and everyone to get ahead, but this latest move? This is too far.
A new shipment of business cards came in today, and instead of mine saying Lincoln Fox, Associate Agent, it has Lincoln Fox, Future Mr. Holloway, and in small print says, “Just fuck already.”
It’s like he wants me to report him to HR.
This is exactly the type of thing he’d do to try to get in my head to throw me off my game. Does he think it’s funny? I’m failing to see the humor. Then again, I fail to see a lot of the “good qualities” Archer supposedly has. His charisma comes off as slimy, and I always feel like his mask is hiding deep-seated issues of childhood trauma. Textbook bully persona. They hide their insecurities by exploiting others’.
I might have also taken psych classes before deciding on sports management as my major, so I know what I’m talking about. Sort of.
My point is, Archer sucks, and this time, I’m going to let him know it. I usually try to ignore him because if he gets a rise out of me, he wins. If I show that he gets to me, he wins. But this is so much more than petty competition for clients. This is … It’s bullshit is what it is.
I storm out of my office and cross the bullpen, where our interns and junior agents are laughing and goofing off, but I ignore them and keep moving toward Archer’s office.
The layout of the LA office has always had an “us and them” kind of vibe. The managing partners, Camden and Xavier, aren’t only managers of the LA office; they’re actual live-in partners. But, like Archer, they’re competitive as fuck, and apparently, it dates to before they were even together. Even now, as life-partner kind of boyfriends, they still have that competitive edge. Xavier takes care of PR, and Camden is the Damon King of the LA office—agent extraordinaire. Together, they make a good pair, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the offices are split. Instead of two offices together, they have them at different ends of the floor with reception, bullpen, and then associate offices in between. I’m on Xavier’s side of the office. Archer is on Camden’s.
I thought the walk would give me time to calm down, but unfortunately, the building isn’t that big. My work email alert sounds from my pocket, but it can wait in my inbox with the rest of the emails I haven’t yet read this morning.
I enter Archer’s office without knocking, which I wouldn’t normally dream of doing to anyone because it’s disrespectful, but I’d have to respect Archer to care about that.
Archer has his bleach-blond head buried in his screen, a smile on his plump lips, and his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows to show off his tattoos. They’re also peeking out above his top button too.
I hate those tattoos. Hate that my gaze is always drawn to them. Hate that I want to see what the ink is that’s hidden by his button-up shirt. But mostly, I hate them because I find tattoos irresistibly hot on a man, and these tattoos are on a man who doesn’t deserve them. They’re too good for his skin.
Archer lifts his head and then tilts it to the side like a dog. “What are you here to yell at me for this time?”
I wish I could say I come to his office for other reasons and had a right to be mad at that greeting, but I don’t. On either account.
“This.” I throw one of my business cards at his desk. It misses, and I internally sigh. Because God forbid I look cool while throwing something for once in my life. I step closer and pick it up, placing it in front of him this time with a firm hand. “What the hell is this supposed to mean, and why would you do it? Are you serious or purely delusional?”
Archer picks up the card and chuckles. Legit lets out an immature chuckle like someone just said sixty-nine and he can’t help himself. “I mean, the thought of you marrying me is pretty funny.”
“What is your issue with me? Are you playing childhood games to get me to blow up at you in front of everyone and get fired? Stooping to sabotage so you can sign all of my clients to your roster? If you need to do this shit to get accounts, you’re not as charming as you think. Whatever you have against me, let it go. I’m not going anywhere.”
Archer puts his hand on his heart and says in the driest tone to ever exist, “It hurts so much that you don’t want to be the next Camden and Xavier of this office. It hurts so bad.”
I go to lose my shit at him even more when he beats me.
“It wasn’t me, jackass. Do you really think I’d spell my name wrong on my own cards?” He takes one of his cards out of the box sitting on his desk and slides it over to me.
Archer Halloway
Competitive PITA
His last name has an A instead of an O in Holloway. He makes a good point, but maybe that’s to throw everyone off so he doesn’t get in trouble for pranking my business cards. Make himself look like a victim too.
“At least yours is true,” I mumble.
He laughs for real this time.
“But it also doesn’t mean you didn’t have—”
“Also, you might want to check your work email.”
Uh-oh.
Swallowing hard, I pull my phone out of my pocket and open the inbox I’ve been ignoring since I first saw my new business card.
From: Damon King
Subject: Check your business cards
Hi all,
Due to a recent security breach, our legal team requires you to check your most recent batch of business cards handed out this week. We’ve had numerous reports of misprints, so please make sure yours have your correct title on them and email me if they do not.
On an unrelated note, please be careful who you let inside King Sports properties, both in New York and the LA offices. Also be aware that Maddox O’Shay and Stacy King are no longer allowed to set foot on either premises.
Regards,
Damon King.
King Sports CEO.
The email is so random it’s difficult to understand that it was Damon’s partner and sister who were responsible for this.
Damon King is a fascinating man. He’s so put together and runs a multimillion-dollar empire, yet he’s surrounded by i
“I’ll take that apology whenever you’re ready,” Archer says.
I take my eyes off my phone to glare at him. “I don’t understand though.”
“Understand that a harmless prank could have been carried out by anyone but me?”
“No. I don’t get why?” These people don’t actually think Archer and I would make a good couple, do they?
“Why, what?”
“Why does mine say I should become your husband, but yours is work related?”
“Would you still have thought it was me if it was work related? Or only because it was practically a marriage proposal if it came from me? Think highly of yourself?”
“Yes! Wait, no. Yes, I still would’ve thought it was you if it was work related, but seeing as it wasn’t you and it was the boss’s partner, what have Camden and Xavier been telling Damon for Maddox to think you and I getting married would even be a remote possibility? It’s offensive.”
“It was a joke,” he says. “It’s probably because everyone knows how much you hate me for being better than you.”
“Yes, that’s the reason you drive me crazy. Absolutely has nothing to do with you sniping prospective clients right out from underneath me.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
This man is impossible.
“Either way, it’s still offensive.”
“Well, I take offense to your offense. I’m a catch. You’d be lucky to have me.”
“And you would need a miracle to have me.”
Archer leans back in his seat. “I’d take it as a compliment, if I were you.”
“What, because you’re so out of my league that—”
He puts up his hand to stop me from talking, and it’s so fucking rude. “No. It’s a compliment because they couldn’t find anything wrong when it comes to your work ethic, so they had to make shit up.”
I hesitate. Is … is that true?
“Hence, compliment.”
I’d hate to agree with Archer for once, but seeing it from that angle—
“Plus, they’re probably playing into the whole bet thing.”
Bet thing? “What bet?”
Archer’s brow scrunches, but he quickly smooths it out. “You haven’t heard?”
“Unlike others in this office, I try to stay away from gossip.”
“Then maybe you should ask around.”
Why is he like this? “I’m asking you.”
“Sorry. I’m too busy sniping your clients to fill you in. Did you happen to see Asher Dalton’s little bro is making waves in the AHL? Imagine getting the chance to rep both of them.”
“But he’s Damon’s client along with Asher.”
He shakes his head. “You didn’t read the follow-up email to the card scandal, did you?”
Fucking hell. Lesson learned. No more losing my shit at Archer before I’ve checked all my emails. I look again only to find the announcement nearly everyone has been waiting for.
Damon King is only mid-fifties. Nowhere near retirement. But he’s so successful we’ve all been wondering when he’d begin to step back and slow down.
Apparently, that time is now.
Subject: Client List
Dear valued employees
Shit. You know it’s going to be big when he opens with that instead of his usual casual Hi.
As you’re all aware, I closed off my roster for any new clients a while ago, and I’ve been taking active steps to reduce my workload. In the coming months, I will be moving into a purely administrative managing role for the company.
What this means:
The majority of athletes on my roster are at or nearing retirement, but there are a few legacy clients—those whose family members I have repped previously—who will be seeking new representation. I am leaving this up to the clients to decide who they want on their team.
If you are interested in any available clients, please make sure you represent King Sports with the same respect and decorum as I always expect. Treat each prospect like you would those coming from outside representation, while also being considerate of the other agents in the running. I don’t want to see this turn into an intraoffice spectacle or rivalry between agents.
Why do I feel like that last part is mostly directed Archer’s and my way?
The rest of the email has a list of those seeking new representation, and then he signs it off with his casual “thanks.” Like he hasn’t potentially set a live wire alight in the middle of everything he’s built.
Archer’s mention of whatever office bet he was talking about is long forgotten. I’ve got work to do if I’m going to beat him at scoring myself some of the biggest athletes at this firm.
Archer has had a head start, but I’m sure I can catch up.
Game on, Holloway.
Chapter 2
Archer
Fox leaves my office without so much as a goodbye. Am I offended Lincoln Fox thinks I’m the devil? Not even a little bit. Because in his defense, I am cutthroat when it comes to getting clients. I have to be.
The fact that he’s one of the most attractive people I’ve ever met and his uptight nature makes me curious about what it would be like to watch him unravel doesn’t factor into it.
When I first moved to LA, I had the biggest crush on the guy. That lingering attraction has fluctuated over the years, flaring up when he comes into the office looking disheveled like he’d spent the night before being thoroughly fucked to dying down when he does shit like this—accuse me of something I didn’t do.
It doesn’t matter how into the guy I am because it all boils down to business first.
With two younger brothers, an older sister, and then our dad being an Olympian, I was raised with that “must win” mentality. My siblings and I were forced into every water-based sport under the sun growing up, our father putting so much pressure on us to be the best. If we weren’t, he’d put us in the next available specialty. He was determined for each of us to find our niche, where our natural talent was, and then pushed us to succeed.
My sister followed in Dad’s footsteps, becoming an Olympic gold medalist in the 400- and 800-meter freestyle. My younger brothers went a different route and are currently trying to make the US Olympic team for diving—single and pairs divisions.
Me? I was a naturally talented swimmer with my wide shoulders and big feet, but I lacked the drive. I became a water polo player in my college years, but there isn’t money in that. Professional water polo players in Europe can earn a couple of hundred thousand a year, but the average is barely a livable wage.
I’ve always had my eye on doing this for a living: being a sports agent. I want to be the one to get those endorsement deals for my clients, especially those in the sports that don’t get nearly enough of a wage without them.
That’s why I do what I do. That’s why I’m unapologetic if Fox gets pissed at me for signing a client he was chasing. Everyone is fair game, and I need to win. Not only to be successful and be the best, but to show my father that choosing not to pursue professional sports doesn’t make me a quitter. If anything, I have more of a financially secure future than he ever did as a swimmer.
Especially if I can sign any or all of Damon’s soon-to-be ex-clients. I don’t exactly have the room for all of them on my roster, but if I can nab the important ones, I could be set for the next ten years.
Asher Dalton has a few years left in the NHL, but he’s one of the greats. He will be a big payday, even if it’s only short-lived. His little brother, on the other hand, he’s young. Just started out in the AHL with the potential to be even better than Asher if he can stay away from injury and keep his head in check. I’ve been reading up on him since I saw that email this morning.
Emmett Dalton quit hockey after high school and made a comeback three years later, so whatever made him quit in the first place could be an obstacle in his future. I’m assuming the brothers come as a package deal, so while it’s a risk signing Emmett, I have to if I want Asher on my roster.
Still, they’re the big fish everyone is going to want, so I need to be smart about it. And to be smart, I need more coffee.
I stand from my desk and make my way into the break room, where some associates are doing the same thing as me. “Refueling before going to woo Damon’s clients?”
