by Jody Holford
“No.” She continued to stare.
He smiled. “Yes. And if you don’t, I’ll create a media scandal you won’t recover from. I have people waiting to release these photos. It’ll undermine your position with your own players and your entire front office. You won’t have one lick of respect, especially with the headlines they’ve crafted. And if that isn’t enough, we’ll pull Liam’s name so far through the mud, he’ll be stuck six feet under.”
She stiffened, reminding herself she knew he’d hit below the belt. “Liam has a fantastic reputation. You can’t damage that with some pictures. And he doesn’t want to hide our relationship forever.”
The smile worked into a sneer and sent chills over her body. “True. He does have that good reputation. And maybe he’ll come out the hero in this. But most likely, he’ll be shut out by the players who will feel betrayed. He’ll be a joke. The owner’s boy toy.”
Isla’s heart beat so fast, she put her hand on it, like she could settle it in her chest. “How could you do this? Even think of doing this?”
He leaned forward. “At least, here in Nashville, Liam has a lot of fans and supporters who will rally. That likely wouldn’t be the case if he gets traded to say…Philly? I really don’t think they’d like welcoming him to their clubhouse with the kind of media storm I’m about to create.”
Her throat clogged. Liam loved Nashville. “You’re horrible.”
“It’s business, Isla. I told you I wanted this.”
She stood, slammed her hands on the desk. “You’re not a goddamn two year old. You can understand the word no. How could you threaten me like this? I’m your daughter.”
But she could see what she’d always known, and it ripped a corner of her heart off and stomped on it. It didn’t matter who she was to him. He’d stop at nothing to get what he wanted.
“Liam won’t care,” she said, her voice surprisingly strong with certainty. But the thought of dragging him through this sickened her. He was better than this. Better than her father’s games and manipulation.
“You start the paperwork for firing me yet?” Bruce had been eerily quiet, and Isla almost forgot he was in the room.
Her head whipped his way. “What?”
He made a tsking sound and tapped his ankle in a steady rhythm. “Way I see it is, you probably haven’t. You don’t know how to play the game. I do. That’s why I’ve already started that paperwork to trade Cruz to Philly. One phone call, on my way out of this office, and it’s official. There’ll be no way you can stop it before drawing up my dismissal.”
Isla sank down into her chair, worried she was going to throw up. She covered her stomach with her hand, her vision dimming. She blinked rapidly.
“Breathe, dear,” her father said. “It’s going to be okay.” The soothing, caring voice undid something inside of her.
She sat straight. “You are a monster. A horrible person, and I cannot believe I’m related to you. You are…ugly on the inside.”
“Think what you want, Isla. We don’t have to make it like this. As I said, you’ll retain a small percentage, and you can stay on as a marketing expert. That’s your speciality.”
Her pulse flicked rapidly in her throat, making it hard to swallow. “I’ve already signed paperwork with Conroy Hotels. They own fifteen percent.”
Her father leaned back, his jaw tight. Bruce swore and lowered his foot to the ground.
“Fine. So I’ll have seventy-five percent. See? I can be flexible.”
“Like hell,” Bruce said, standing. “I own five percent, like you said, or I blow this deal up.”
Her father stared at him and gave a curt nod. “Right. Isla, you’ll have ten. Bruce five, Conroy fifteen, and myself, seventy. It’s not ideal but it’ll work. You’ll draw the papers up this afternoon with Josiah, get everything started. If you don’t, if you breathe a word of this, Cruz will be traded, and I’ll still leak the photos to the media. I do understand business, Isla. You’ll do a press conference as soon as possible. You should stick around for a week or so, pretending everything is normal while we get the legalities sorted. Then it might be better for you to go home.”
He stood, collected his photos, tucked them away. “Agreed?”
She said nothing, just stared at him, but he must have read the defeat in her gaze, her body. Because he clapped Bruce on the shoulder, and the two of them left.
Isla’s mind whirred like she was stuck in a tunnel beneath rushing water. Blindfolded.
Pressing her hands to the top of her desk, she sorted through the words, the threats, and came up with nothing to fight back against. She could handle a media storm. What she couldn’t handle was Cruz getting ripped away from his team. From his home. And his family who were so happy to be close by. To have him there.
She had no way out.
Don’t say that. Don’t give up. You’re better than that. But what options did she have? If she told Liam, she knew him well enough now to know he’d take the hit for her. She couldn’t stomach him making that kind of sacrifice.
Which meant there was only one option.
…
“I don’t understand, Isla. I know it’s been a rough start, but things are already smoothing out. You’ve got amazing publicity lined up. The public is going to love the Conroy merger, and the school initiative is going to excite every kid in Nashville who loves baseball.”
She stared out the window of Josiah’s office, arms folded around herself, unable to shake the chill that seeped into her bones this morning.
“It’s too much. My father wants it so badly, it’s silly for me to widen the gulf between us by fighting him. Especially since I have no clue what I’m doing.”
Josiah shifted behind her, but she couldn’t turn. She was a lousy liar on her best day. Staring into the eyes of a man who’d given her so much more than a baseball team by believing in her grandfather’s decision that she should be at the helm, she wouldn’t be able to keep herself from breaking.
“Okay. Fine. Your father is a bully, but we can give him a small percentage. But seventy? That’s crazy.”
She turned, steeling her gaze. “I’m in charge. It’s what I want. What I don’t want is a discussion trying to sway me in the other direction. I’ve tried. I’ll bring this team down if I stay. My father will help them succeed and ultimately, that’s what my grandfather wanted and what the team needs.”
Josiah stared at her, one hand tapping on the table. “Has something happened?”
She tried to smile. “Yes. I decided this is not for me.”
“Isla.”
“Please start the paperwork.” She hated that her voice cracked at the end.
He nodded, said nothing else, and left the room, his obvious irritation following him. Isla let out a deep breath and walked to the table. Leaning on it, she dropped her head and tried to blink back tears. It’ll be okay.
At least she could lie to herself reasonably well.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Liam dropped the weights with a thud and stared at his friend and, as of last night, former teammate. Corey wiped sweat from his brow, not bothering with the white towel he had around his neck. Liam’s workout room was as top-notch as any professional gym. He smiled, thinking about Isla checking out the equipment and setup, then confirming its efficiency for him.
“I don’t get it, man. But I have no say. Marilyn is pissed,” Corey said, referring to his wife.
“She doesn’t want to move to San Diego?” Liam set the weight on the squat machine, trying to ignore the stirring in his gut that told him something wasn’t right. He’d been trying to reach Isla all day. He’d even contacted Addie, because apparently he was that gone over this woman. His girlfriend’s assistant had evaded the questions, saying Isla was in back-to-back meetings all day. And she probably is. She’s fired her GM. Addie did mention a press conference tonight, and Liam figured she’d make the announcement.
“We just bought a house, man. And we haven’t told anyone but…
Marilyn’s pregnant.”
Liam grinned. “That’s awesome. Congratulations.” He walked over and shook his friend’s hand. That was great news, but he could see why he didn’t want to be transferred.
“Maybe Isla can do something about it,” Liam said, going back to the squat machine.
It took him a minute to realize Corey hadn’t responded. When he turned, his friend was staring at him.
“Isla?”
Heat rushed his skin. “Yeah. New owner? That’s her name.”
Corey’s eyes narrowed. “I know her name. Just sounds like you know more than that. Any truth to the rumors?”
He was tired of hiding it, but he wouldn’t do anything to make Isla look bad in the papers or online. They’d rip her apart. And he couldn’t stand the thought.
“You believe everything you read?” Cruz made sure to shoot him a frown for added effect.
Corey shrugged, picked up a twenty-pound barbell. “I don’t know. If the trade has been made, what can she do?”
Liam couldn’t exactly tell his friend that the person who’d made the trade was on his way out. He wasn’t supposed to have inside knowledge like that. But if the ink wasn’t dry, there might be something she could do.
“Just wait and see. Maybe things will turn around.”
When they finished their workout, Liam did a few things around his house that he’d been neglecting. He stopped in one of the spare rooms and thought about his friend having a baby. Starting a family. He’d told himself there was time. But in truth, there’d never been a woman to tempt him into truly settling down.
“Way to find the most complicated one you could,” he told himself.
Deciding to grab a beer to go with the nachos he planned to make, he checked his phone. Again. Dammit. Why hadn’t she called him back or, at the very least, texted?
He went to the stove, intending to turn it on, and then swore. It didn’t matter if he had no reason to be there or if it made him look like a pansy-ass who couldn’t handle a few hours away from his girlfriend. He needed to see her.
Grabbing his keys, he headed for the garage. He wasn’t at the last press conference she’d given, and he regretted it. She had more inner strength than anyone he knew, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t show his support.
He slipped into the stadium and into one of the rooms off the press conference area. There was a screen set up specifically for viewing, so management and front office staff who wanted to hear it live didn’t have to be in the room. He checked his watch, peeked out into the hallway, wondering if Isla was already in the room, nervous about getting in front of the mics.
He didn’t expect to see her come out of the ladies’ room in the hallway. Their eyes locked, and this time, he expected the tight squeeze of his heart. She owned it. No more denying it.
Her face paled as he approached. “What are you doing here?”
His heart stuttered. Reaching for her, he grasped her shoulders. “What’s wrong, Red?”
She shook her head, her eyes so haunted it made his stomach flip. “I…I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. It’s too much. I care about you, but—”
Panic flooded his veins. “Don’t finish that sentence. What’s going on?”
She looked around like someone might join them. “You need to go. The team… I just, I can’t do it. You need to focus on your career and…I miss Colorado. I want to go home.”
He dropped his hands as if he’d been burned. But he couldn’t take his eyes off her. The fire he loved seeing in her gaze was…extinguished.
A door opened and shut behind them. Liam turned to see Ethan coming toward them. The lines around his eyes looked shadowed.
“Cruz.” His tone was flat. Lifeless. What the actual hell was happening?
“Are you sure you want to do this? I can make the announcement,” Ethan said, his focus on Isla.
Was Ethan mad about Bruce? It wasn’t like they were friends. It would make Ethan’s job a little tricky, but the guy thrived on that stuff.
“I need to do it.” Isla looked down at the floor.
“Do you have another GM in mind?” Liam asked, feeling like every second that passed caused more tension. There were advisors for this kind of shit. She’d find someone else, and Ethan could turn him into a hero.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ethan’s words were clipped and whispered.
Isla lifted her head. “Bruce is staying. It’s me who’s leaving.”
Even when she said she wanted to go back to Colorado, he hadn’t believed her. He’d been with her last night. This team was hers, and not just because it’d been left to her. Even if she didn’t want to be sole owner, hell, even if she wanted to sell, there was no way she’d leave Bruce in charge.
Liam put both hands on his hips as Ethan glanced at his phone. “Someone tell me what’s going on. Now.”
Ethan glared. “Doesn’t concern you. You’re just a player.”
He saw Isla flinch, but she’d smoothed her features when she looked at him again. “He’s right, Mr. Cruz. This doesn’t concern you.”
She turned and walked away, heading for the press conference room. Ethan started to say something but, instead, followed after Isla.
Not knowing what else to do, he turned the monitor up so he could get some answers. Isla’s face filled the screen, and the click and whir of camera shutters filled the room. Ethan said something in her ear, and Bruce stood off to the side, his face smug. The camera panned slightly, and Liam just about choked. What was her dad doing here? Isla said he’d gone back to Colorado.
Folding his arms over his chest, his pulse racing, he waited.
She didn’t waste any time. “Thank you for coming. I’ll make this brief, and I won’t be taking questions. As many of you already know, I’m out of my element here. While I have the best of intentions, the Nashville Slammers deserve more. They deserve someone who understands the game and has a passion for it.”
She paused, and Liam’s chest constricted. She was coming to love the game, and she hadn’t even seen a live one yet. Her face had opened up and shone like the damn sun when she’d connected the bat with the ball.
Isla cleared her throat and looked down at her notes. Her voice was lower when she continued. “I’ve signed a letter of intent releasing the bulk of my ownership to my father, who many of you know played for the Slammers a long time ago. You will be in very good hands. Thank you for giving me a chance.”
Ethan’s eyes widened as Isla walked off the set. Liam walked out of the room, intending to intercept and find out what was happening. But she didn’t come out. There was a side door exit that went down a different hallway. She’d avoided him. On purpose. And she’d given up the team.
She’d given up on them.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
There was nowhere to hide in Nashville. Isla drove around, grateful that Addie hadn’t asked questions when she borrowed her car this evening. Tears streamed down her face to the point that she’d had to pull over. She didn’t know what to do, who to talk to, where to go.
Her phone was going crazy on the passenger seat. Leaning back against the headrest, she stared up through the sunroof, wishing the gorgeous stars in the Nashville sky had the answers she needed.
In very little time, she’d fallen not only for the city but several of the people in it. And tonight, she’d told Liam she wasn’t staying. That hadn’t been part of the plan, hers or her father’s. But when she’d looked at him, her heart had squeezed so tightly, she knew she couldn’t live in the same city as him and not ache.
If the team wasn’t an obstacle between them, maybe they could start fresh. But this woman giving up, bowing to her father’s wishes, that wasn’t the woman Liam fell in l— Don’t think it. The woman sitting in this car was not the woman Liam fell for.
Once she no longer owned the team, she wouldn’t feel like she had a reason to be in Nashville.
They’d never promised each other forever. We barely know e
ach other. You can’t jeopardize his career for something that’s barely started. The look in his eyes was all she could see when she closed her own. Thank goodness there’d been an alternate route out of the press room. She hadn’t said the exact words Ethan wrote for her, but she’d done the best she could to give the statement with an emotionless voice.
“You’re making up for it now,” she whispered into the dark. Grabbing a tissue out of her purse, she pulled herself together. Nothing got accomplished through crying.
Putting the car in drive, she navigated the streets Liam had shown her her first full day in Nashville. How did that seem so long ago now?
Winding her way back to the apartment, her head clouded. When she pulled in, she stared at the building that had started to feel like home. She liked Nashville. She liked the life she was creating. The person she was. “Was” being the operative word. Because who the hell are you right now?
Heading up in the elevator, she made a mental list of things she needed to do. Her life was moving in reverse, and it felt weird. It felt uncomfortable, like wearing her clothes backward.
Addie was on the phone when she walked in. Addie, who moved here for you. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet and pointing at the phone while answering whomever was on the other end in a perfectly professional voice.
Isla’s heart cracked a little wider. She wasn’t sure which was worse—the idea of disappointing Addie or Addie being disappointed in her.
“Absolutely. I’ll check the schedule and get back to you.” She hung up and just stared at Isla.
Giving her a two-handed “come here” gesture, Addie said, “Thank me.”
Isla tossed her purse down on the counter. “Excuse me?”
“When I tell you what I’m going to tell you, you’re going to thank me an infinite number of times, so I figure I should give you a head start.”