I smile when I hear his voice and ignore all my feelings at the moment. This is business. This is what I’m made for. “Well, what can I say? I’m good at what I do.”
“What do you have for me?” he asks.
“Graham Burns,” I say. “His contract is five million. He’s a free agent at the end of the year. His numbers are good, not great because he’s playing the fourth line,” I say what I told Martin. “I’m going for more when his contract expires.”
“Well, thanks for the heads-up,” he says. “I know of him. I’ll give Martin a call.”
“I might have suggested that he can get two players for one of Graham,” I say. “Just in case.”
“I’ll let you know,” he says, and I call Graham back.
“Hey,” I say when he answers the phone. “I wanted to give you a heads-up that Nico is going to talk to Martin about you.”
“Dallas,” he says, and then I hear his voice go low. “They are doing okay except for last night they got killed in Buffalo.”
“Yeah, well, we all have off games,” I say. My other line rings, and I see it’s Nico.
“I’ll call you back,” I say. “But I think it’s safe to say you should pack your bags,” I say, going to the other line. “Hello?”
“He’s mine. I’m going to get him,” he says. “I’m in New York, so I’m going to hop over to Detroit.”
“What are the terms?” I ask.
“I’m buying the contract from him,” he says. “His cap space is at the top, and he can bring up some players from the farm team.”
“Then I guess we both win,” I say, and he laughs.
“I owe you, Becca,” he says, and his voice goes soft. “And it’s going to be a debt I want to pay off. I’ll call you when I’m back in town.” He hangs up without giving me a chance to say anything. I don’t even know what I would have said. He stunned me with the way his voice went soft when he said my name, and then dropped to almost a whisper.
I put my phone down on the desk, and my eyes don’t move from it. It buzzes, and I look down to see it’s from Graham.
Graham: I’m coming to Dallas. He promised me second line.
Me: Once he sees how you play, he’ll bump you up to the first line.
Graham: Fingers crossed. I’ll see you soon. I play New York tomorrow.
Me: I’ll be watching.
He sends me back a smiling emoji. My phone beeps again, and this time when I look down, my eyes blink more times than needed.
Nico: Keep Saturday free.
Chapter 8
Nico
Manning: Meeting at six. Hope you can make it.
Me: Send me the address, and I’ll be there.
The last text is from one of my oldest friends, Laurene. The two of us both come from wealthy families, so we would always hang out at forced gatherings.
Laurene: Hey, long time, no talk. Give me a shout.
I put my phone down and call for Lizzie. “You rang,” she says, coming into my home office. I look up at her. “If you called me in here to make you coffee, I’m going to …” We got home this morning and just decided to head home.
I put up my hand to stop her from telling me what she would do to said coffee. I learned a long time ago that she was my assistant, but she would never fetch me coffee. To prove her point, she would get the order wrong every time, or she served it scalding with no milk. It was just not going to happen. “I have a meeting at six.”
“Do I have to come?” she asks, and I shake my head. “Is it Manning?”
“Yes,” I say. Manning came over not too long ago to let me know that he’s leaving his wife. I wasn’t shocked in the least, and it was about time. I’ve worked with Murielle a couple of times, and all I wondered was how someone like Manning could be with her. She wasn’t horrible per se, but she wasn’t the nicest. Where Manning does not want to be recognized, she wants everyone to know what she is doing.
“I mean, I’m not going to say it’s about time,” Lizzie says, “but it’s about fucking time. That woman is horrible.” I look at her, pinching my eyebrows together. “I didn’t tell you, but once in the beginning, she thought I was going after Manning because I laughed at his joke. Called me a horny bitch and told me to stay away from her man.”
I look at her in shock. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it was a non-issue,” she says, and I just shake my head. “Are you going to let her keep her position on the foundation?”
“As long as she acts respectfully, I don’t see why not,” I say, and she laughs.
“That lady wouldn’t know respect if it came to the house and knocked on her door,” Lizzie says. “I also have the press release ready for Manning.”
“Perfect, I’ll let you know when to release it,” I say, and she gets up. “You can take the rest of the day off,” I say, and she throws her head back and laughs.
“So kind of you,” she says. “It’s four thirty.”
I laugh, looking at my Rolex. “Okay, then take tomorrow off.”
“Bye,” she says, walking out and holding her hand up in a wave. “See you tomorrow.”
She is not one to just lay around and take the day off, even if I suggest she should. I get up and go to my bedroom to slip on something more comfortable. The past three days have been a fucking roller-coaster ride.
From rushing to Buffalo to signing Graham, it’s just one thing after another. I smile, thinking about how none of it would have been possible without Becca. I don’t know what she told Martin, but he didn’t even try to fight to keep Graham.
After changing into my jeans, I grab a white T-shirt and slip it on. Grabbing my keys and leather jacket, I walk out of the house and make my way over to the address Manning sent me. I pull up and see the lights on inside and outside.
I walk up and ring the doorbell, my heart beating a little bit faster than it was before. I blame it on walking to the door, but my head laughs at me. The door opens, and I see Becca. God, she is even more beautiful than she was the last time I saw her. She is wearing white pants that hug her hips but fall to the floor, and her orange turtleneck looks so soft my hands itch to reach out and touch it. To touch her. “Hey,” I say to Manning, and then I turn to Becca. “Good to see you.”
She just nods at me as the doorbell rings again. I move to the side so she can open the door, and I hold my breath at her proximity and tuck my hands in my pockets to stop from touching her. Candace comes in, and I wonder how she is doing with all this.
I follow everyone into the dining room, listening to Becca talk, and I’m not surprised about what all she did. I just lean back in my chair and watch how she handles herself. The way she taps her finger on the table when she’s listening.
“Hopefully, this will be over very soon, and we can pop champagne for another reason,” I say, getting up at the end of the conversation after Jaxon calls his father. “Becca, why don’t I take you to dinner?” The words are out of my mouth before I can take them back, and I look at her, afraid that if I look at Manning and Candace, they will see something I don’t want anyone to see right now.
Becca looks at me and tilts her head to the side. “Depends on what you’re thinking.” I can even see the little smile she tries to hide.
“Whatever you want.” Game on. She stands and closes her laptop.
“I’m thinking pizza,” she says, “in Italy.”
I look at my watch and do the calculations in my head. “If we leave now, we can get there for lunch.” She turns, and we say goodbye to everyone, and I walk out with her.
“So where are we going?” she asks, standing beside her SUV. I want to wrap my hand around her waist and pull her to me. Lean down and kiss her lips. Fuck, this is not good.
“Why don’t I follow you to your house? You can drop off your car, and then we can decide,” I say, opening her door for her without giving her a chance to think about anything. She gets in, but I can see her mind spinning. “Relax, Becca.”
“I’m usually the one in charge,” she says.
I lean in with one hand on the door and the other hand on top of the SUV. “When it’s you and me, I’m the one in charge,” I say, and I see her eyes go a deeper green. I could easily lean in just a touch more and find out what she tastes like, but instead, I step back and close the door.
I walk to my SUV and make plans while I follow her back to her place. She hands her keys to the doorman and walks over to my SUV. I get out and open the door for her. “Thank you,” she says, getting in the SUV. I get in and look over at her as she puts her seat belt on.
“It’s killing you, isn’t it?” I ask, and she rolls her lips and nods her head.
“You have no idea,” she says and turns to me. “Are you going to give me a hint?”
“Okay,” I say, pulling away from her building. “Originally, I was going to fly us to New York.” She gasps in shock.
“I was kidding about having pizza in Italy,” she says. “Okay, fine, I wasn’t but New York?”
“Yeah, if it was earlier, we could have done it, but it’s almost seven, so we wouldn’t get there until ten, which is eleven with the time change.”
“You’re serious?” She turns and puts her back to the door. “You were going to take me to New York at the drop of a hat.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I figured I owed you a lot more than that.” I look over at her, and I wonder if I kiss the shit out of her would her lips still shine like they do now. Putting the SUV in the park, I look over at her. “Until I can do more, this will have to do,” I say, reaching for the door and opening it. I walk around the SUV, seeing her leg come out. Her red bottom shoes suddenly make me think of sex. It’s all fucking Lizzie’s fault. She stands and turns to shut the door. I can’t even tell if she’s wearing underwear under those white pants.
“Where are we?” she asks, looking around.
“This might not be Italy,” I say, grabbing her hand. Our fingers intertwine with ease. Neither of us says anything else as we look down at our hands locked together.
The restaurant lights shine, and I look around and don’t see any empty tables outside for us to eat at. I open the door to the restaurant with my free hand and hold it open for her to walk through with me following. Her hand remains in mine like neither of us wants to let go.
“For two, please,” she tells the hostess, who looks at me and then back at her. We follow the hostess through the crowded restaurant to a table in front of the big red wood-burning oven.
Slipping my hand out of hers, I pull out a chair for her. She sets her purse in the chair next to hers before she sits down. I shrug out of my jacket, and I see her looking over at me. “It’s casual day,” I say, tossing my jacket on the chair beside me. Instead of sitting in front of her, I decided to sit beside her.
“I’ve never seen you in anything but a suit,” she says to me as the waitress comes over and hands us the menus. Becca smiles at the waitress and orders herself a white wine and looks over at me.
“A bottle of San Pellegrino,” I say, and she nods, walking away. “I’ve never seen you dressed casually.”
She looks up from the menu. “Hello.” She points at herself. “This is casual.”
“You’re wearing heels,” I point out.
“I was watching Jaxon all day long,” she says, and I look at her, shocked. “Manning needed someone to watch Jaxon while he ran all his errands.”
“Wait, I don’t understand,” I say, putting my menu down and looking at her. “What was your role in all of this?”
She sets her menu down, smiling at the waitress who brings her glass of wine. “We’ll need a minute,” Becca tells her, and she nods her head, walking away. She takes a sip of wine, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Manning is my client,” she tells me, looking down at her fingers as she plays with the stem of the wineglass, “but he’s also my friend.” I don’t interrupt her. “So I did what I needed to do in order to protect him.”
“Which means what exactly?” It’s me tapping my finger on the table this time as I wait for her to answer.
“I was the one who hired the private investigator. I was the one who got him the house. I was the one who got his mother here.”
“You were the one who did all that?” I look at her, shocked, but I don’t know why I am. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Yes,” she says, smirking. She picks up her glass of wine and takes another sip. “I can’t give up control.”
I laugh, and right before I’m about to say something, she shocks me even more. “I don’t know why,” she says, setting the glass back down, “but for you, I might try.”
Chapter 9
Becca
The elevator pings, and I step out, smiling. “Good morning,” I tell the receptionist, who smiles at me as she answers the phone. I wait for her to put the phone down. “The phone has been ringing off the hook for you.”
I smile even bigger. “God, I love those words. Music to my ears,” I say and walk back to my office to the sound of my heels clicking on the floor.
“Good morning,” I say to Erika, who gets up from her desk and follows me into my office. I slip off my jacket, draping it over the back of my chair. “How is everything?” I ask, sitting.
“You have twenty-five calls about Manning today,” she says, and I knew it was coming. When the bomb got dropped last night, I knew the kickback would be today. “I have them all here.” She hands me the stack of papers. “By priority, but you can go through it just to make sure. Is there anything else you need from me?”
I look up at her. “No, thank you, this is great,” I say, going through all the papers. She turns and walks out of my office, and my phone rings. I look down to see it’s Manning.
“Hello,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “If you’re calling to ask me for another favor, you are out of luck for the month.” He laughs. “I’m not kidding, Manning.”
“Actually, I’m calling to thank you,” he says.
“I’m afraid to ask you for what?” I try to joke with him.
“For fucking everything. From renting this house to getting my mother here.” He lets out a huge breath.
“Your mother was on the next flight out. I didn’t even have to guilt-trip her into coming,” I say. “She was at the house the next day.”
His voice goes low. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you pay me well,” I joke with him.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” he says. “You might be all cheetah-like, but deep down, you have a soft heart.”
“If you let anyone hear you say that—” I say, and he stops me.
“Relax, I’m all alone,” he says. “I woke up this morning feeling so free.”
“Well, enjoy it because you have a game tonight, and the press is going to be all over you. I’ll be there tonight.” I wasn’t going to go to the game, but I thought it would be a good idea in case he needed me. You just want to see Nico.
“Well, considering I don’t talk about my private life, it’s going to be easy,” he says. “Also, you and Candace already put out a statement.”
“And judging from the messages on my desk, we’ve only scratched the surface,” I say.
“How bad?” he asks. After all this time, he will forever be the only client of mine who shies away from the press. Even to give interviews, he has to be forced into it.
“People magazine wants to do an exclusive,” I say, and he laughs. “So does GQ, and I think I saw Hockey News also.”
“Negative on all fronts,” he says. “But I do have something that I would like you to do.”
I slap my desk. “I knew it,” I say. “I knew you needed another favor. Your favor card is all used up.”
“It’s not a favor,” he reassures me. “I want you to meet Evelyn,” he says of the woman who finally gave him the strength to stand up to Murielle. “Obviously, whenever it works for you.”
“I wou
ld love to meet her,” I say, and I look up at the door to see Francis standing there with a huge vase of pink roses. “Just tell me when, and I’ll clear my schedule,” I say, and we hang up. “What is all that?” I ask Francis, who is joined by Trevor, who carries another vase of white roses in his hands.
“We should be asking you that question,” he says, putting down the vase in the middle of my desk. “Not one but two,” he says, and I look at them in shock as I grab the first little white envelope.
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” I say, taking out the small white card and reading it.
Becca,
I owe you Italy.
Maybe one day.
Nico
I smile and grab the other envelope. The smile hurts my cheeks, but I can’t help it. My hands are shaking as I pull out the other card.
Becca,
Let go.
I’ll catch you.
N
I have to sit down after I read the last one. Looking up at my brothers, I say, “Can I just have one second to just …” I can’t even right now. My heart is pounding so hard I have to put my hand on my chest.
I force myself to get up and walk to the bathroom off of my office. Closing the door, I’m hit with flashbacks from last night. I spent all night reliving it in my dreams, and it’s coming back again.
“I can’t give up control,” I told him, ignoring all the screaming going on in my head. “I don’t know why.” I took another sip of wine. “But for you, I might try.”
He looked at me, his eyes turning a light blue, and I swear if he looked at me like that all the time, I might do whatever he wants me to. “I’ll catch you,” he told me, and then the waitress came by, and for the rest of the meal, we tiptoed around whatever that moment was. We both wanted to talk about what just happened, but we were afraid to have the words out there in the universe. He paid the bill, and when we walked out, our hands grazed each other’s. He didn’t reach for my hand, and it bothered me. I could have grabbed his, but I was hanging on by a string. I had never been in this type of situation, and I had no idea what the rules of the game were. I don’t think he knew, either.
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