The Secret Arrangement

by Vanessa Waltz

  "With what?"

  "Remember when I brought up doing interviews for me? I need good press right now."

  Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. He wants me to sing his praises and gush about what a wonderful brother he was, never mind that he hasn’t shown the slightest interest in me for years. "I don’t understand how I can help."

  "You haven’t read the news lately, have you?"

  I shrug. "Not really."

  He drums his fingers against each other. "Look, I know you probably didn’t mean for this to happen, but the entire Grizzlies community is in an uproar. They want Grayson traded from the team because he’s been dating you."

  "What?" I seize my laptop, Googling Grayson's name. A stream of vitriol scrolls down my screen.

  "The fans blame Grayson for the feud that was publicized a few days ago."

  "But that’s not true."

  "Right. That’s why I want to do an interview together. I give my blessing to your new relationship with Grayson, deny allegations of a fight, and this mess blows away. Otherwise, Grayson will be traded to another team. The manager was here to discuss it."

  Oh my God.

  My hand flies to my chest. "They’re going to kick him off the team? That’s just crazy!"

  "Not really, when you think about it. He’s been asking for it all summer with the crazy parties and inappropriate behavior. Tanner seems convinced he’ll be bad for the team."

  I stand from the chair. "Well, where is he? I’ll tell him myself."

  "He already left, Saffie." He leans forward, patting my hand. "Don’t worry. We’ll sort this out."

  "How—I mean—do you have something set up already?"

  "Yeah, I’m supposed to have lunch with a reporter in an hour. Will you come?"

  "Of course."

  Henry’s face sags with relief. "Thank you. This is really important to me."

  Which is odd. "Why? You hate Grayson."

  "I don’t like him, but that doesn’t change the fact he’s a great striker. I need him on the team, Saffie. We’re going to the World Cup, and I know we have a shot at winning with him there. Trading him would lower morale."

  Nodding, I close my laptop and set it aside. "Is he coming with us, too?"

  Henry grimaces. "No. If you don’t mind, I’d rather leave him out of this. He has a tendency to sabotage himself as far as his career’s concerned."

  "Okay."

  Henry stands, looking pleased. "Oh, and I talked to Dad. He says he’d be willing to give you a position in the firm if you do this interview."

  My stomach clenches. "I don’t know if I can work with him."

  "Don’t be ridiculous, Saffie. Hundreds of people work there. The odds of you running into him are small."

  "He said he never wanted to see me again." Henry lowers his eyes. "Now he’s offering me a job?"

  A strained silence hangs between us until Henry speaks in soft tones. "Only if you do this for me."

  Of course.

  "And he wants you to come to dinner on the Fourth."

  I gape at Henry. "You and Gisele are still hosting?"

  "No, our cousin Luke is. Gisele is boarding a plane to Italy."

  Wow, it sounds like their marriage is over. I don’t know whether to nod and say "You deserve it," or express sympathy.

  "Sorry to hear that."

  "I’m not giving up on her. There’s still hope."

  I have to be honest. "Not with another woman’s baby in the picture."

  "Well, the kid doesn’t have to be in my life either."

  My mouth drops open. "You’re not going to be involved?"

  "I have no interest in playing father to a child I never wanted." Henry gives me a curious look. "What?"

  I flatten my lips, holding back from calling him a coward and an asshole because if he doesn’t want the baby in his life, the kid is probably better off without him.

  Henry shrugs when I don’t respond and heads for the door. "Be ready in an hour."

  I stare at him, trying to connect the boy I called brother with the man he grew into. People make mistakes. No one’s perfect. Everyone does something they regret at some point.

  I’m twisted inside, my memories of the golden-haired boy tugging at my hand battling with the reality of the remorseless jerk he's become.

  My elbow burns from the sunlight creeping under the umbrella. We’re seated outside, at a chic Mediterranean restaurant with plenty of open space for paparazzi. I suspect that’s why Henry chose this place. He wants the world to know we’re on good terms, but honestly…I’m not sure we are.

  He’s family. Your only family.

  Relatives who’ll speak to me are in short supply, so I should give him a shot even if I currently despise him. Yeah, I can’t be coy about it. I don’t like my brother. I don’t respect the man he is.

  Reminding myself why I’m here makes me sit straighter in the metallic chair and smile brightly at my brother. Grayson needs his image scrubbed for the press, or he’ll lose his place on the team. I can tolerate a few hours in my brother’s presence for that.

  Henry sips a tall glass of ice water, ignoring his spinach salad as I pick at the plate of hummus and falafel patties. "Where is he?"

  "Late." Henry sets the glass down, wincing when water spills over the sides. "Goddamn it."

  "Would you relax? You’re starting to freak me out."

  "My career is hanging by a thread," he growls. "Sorry for being a little jumpy."

  "I thought this was about Grayson."

  "It is, but frankly, it’s a miracle the mess with my wife hasn’t been published. When it comes out, I want to be prepared. I want you vouching for me."

  I promised, didn’t I? Self-disgust rises in my throat like vomit. "What makes you think it’ll get out?"

  He rips the shades off his face and spins them on the table. "Come on. Grayson has more than enough reason to go to the media. Kris might if I stop paying her—who the fuck knows? The crazy bitch might do it anyway just to spite me. A dozen people must’ve overheard us at the party, and then there’s you. My broke sister."

  I’d like to stab his hand with my fork. "You made me sign an NDA, Henry. I legally can’t out your dirty little secret, nor would I want to."

  "That contract wasn’t as ironclad as I’d like."

  "You mean the fact it only covers anything that might happen at the house? Yeah, I picked up on that. I’m a lawyer."

  He looks away, eyes downcast. "Sorry."

  "You’re a cruel person. What you did to Grayson was unforgivable, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to screw you."

  "You might if they offered you tens of thousands for a story. It happens to me all the time, Saffie."

  "I won’t do that."

  "Don’t take it personally, but we haven’t been close in years, and you came to me, desperate. Forgive me for being a little worried."

  The more he talks, the less I like him. I wish he’d shut up. "Is that him?"

  "Where?"

  I point at a man behind the dozen or so glass tables. He squints against the sun. A canvas bag is slung over his shoulder.

  "Yeah," Henry says, smoothing his shirt. "I think so."

  The man waves, seeing us. He seems to be in his forties, and he wears his hair in a short buzz cut. I suck in air as he heads for our table, preparing myself for an afternoon of lying through my teeth.

  The reporter greets us with a cheery smile, apparently enthusiastic to be in the presence of Henry Pardini. I shake his hand and try to smile like Henry told me.

  "All right. Shall we begin? You don’t mind if I record the conversation, do you?"

  "Of course not," Henry says.

  The interview passes relatively painlessly. Henry starts off by putting rumors of the feud to rest and giving my relationship with Grayson a blessing.

  And then the questions target me. When did we start dating? Why was I at the ranch? How come we’ve never been sighted together before now? Where do I see Grayson and myself in f
ive years?

  Even my college girlfriends never pried so deep about my goddamn relationships. It’s awkward to lay it out there to a stranger, and even worse to grit my teeth and lie about what a wonderful, supporting brother he’s been.

  "Right," Adrian says after two grueling hours, shuffling his notes into a pile. "I think I have everything I need."

  "When will it be published?"

  "Oh, you’ll see it in a few days. Thanks so much." He shakes Henry’s hand, then mine. "Take care."

  I sink into my seat, feeling as exhausted as Henry looks. "You did good," he says.

  If that’s true, why do I feel so rotten?

  Henry drops me off at the ranch, explaining that he’ll be back later this week for the party. I’m not sorry to see the back of him. Sighing, I push the massive doors open and step inside. It’s strange that I think of this place like home, because I’ve never felt so rudderless in my life.

  I head straight for my room, not wanting to join the voices in the back. When the door shuts behind me, I curl into a ball on my bed. In less than a week I’m going to see my father.

  My door swings open after a brief knock, Grayson strolling into my space as though he owns it. He’s always struck me as a larger-than-life character, a man who commands the space he’s in without effort, but he treats me like I’m the center of his universe. His smile fades, and he sinks into the mattress beside me. "You don’t look too happy."

  His hand splays over my back, warm and comforting. "It wasn’t pleasant."

  "What the hell did he do now?"

  "Nothing. He just wants me to go to the Fourth of July thing, and my father will be there."

  "Don’t go. Stay with us."

  "I want to, but Henry says he found me a job at my father’s firm. I know this is asking a lot, but will you go with me?"

  He lets out a bark of laughter. "I’m pretty sure Henry won’t want me there."

  "I’ll make him say yes."

  Grayson sighs with a resigned smile, kissing my forehead. "I’ll come, but you owe me big. I can only stomach that asshole’s presence for so long."

  I lean into his embrace, not quite understanding how he became the solid foundation under my feet. "Thank you."

  "I have something for you," he whispers in the shell of my ear. "Close your eyes."

  A hot drop of excitement runs down my throat as I follow his teasing grin to the door. He wraps my hands around his waist, and I follow him outside. He guides me through the house, which is blissfully quiet. I stare at the backs of my eyelids, disoriented as Grayson brings me into what I assume is the kitchen. The door to the backyard slides open and warm air envelopes me.

  "Open," he says.

  A string of lights illuminates the backyard, which still burns with the orange glow of sunset. Near the firepit stands a table set for two, aluminum foil wrapped around two plates, silverware already set, wine glasses filled from a bottle of Opus One.

  Such a sweet gesture. I would’ve never believed Grayson was capable of this.

  I curl my arm around his waist. "You’re making me look so terrible. First a cat cafe date, then Hawaii, now this? I can’t keep up with you."

  "I’m not expecting you to wine and dine me if that’s what you’re worried about. All you have to do is put out."

  "Which I do plenty of already." I kiss him softly. "You’re wonderful."

  "I know."

  "I want to do something for you, too. I just don’t know what."

  Grayson draws me in for a kiss that warms me down to my toes. "Believe me, Saffie. I have everything I want. Now sit down before the steaks get cold."

  He slaps my ass, and I pull out the chair, peeling back the aluminum to reveal a perfectly charred T-bone steak, grilled broccolini, and potatoes. I take a long sip of the wine and shudder as its warmth spreads through my chest. "This is amazing, Grayson."

  He smiles broadly. "Thanks."

  Over the last few weeks, I’ve done the lion’s share of the cooking. They’ve mostly been bland dishes from recipes attached to the fridge from their nutritionist. On the weekends, though, Grayson likes firing up the grill. There is absolutely nothing like a warm summer night, a cold beer, and the smell of charcoal mingled with grilled meat. He even cut watermelon for us. Triangles of the red fruit sit on ice in a bowl.

  "So, good news," I say as we dig in. "I have a place to stay in the city. My buddy said I could stay there for a couple of months while her roommate’s out of town."

  "That’s not long." He frowns, spearing a potato. "Why not crash with me?"

  My knife scrapes the ceramic plate, and I set it down, heart hammering. I don’t want to assume that Grayson feels the same way I do—that these have been the best weeks of my life. "That’s a little fast, isn’t it?"

  "You’re the one dragging me to meet your dad."

  I laugh. "Trust me, that’s not why. Besides, you’ve already met him."

  He leans across the table and takes my hand. The butterflies lodge somewhere in my throat. "This is more than just a fling, Saffie. I want more, and so do you. I’m not going to let something stupid like rent money get between us. Don’t you want to give us a shot?"

  "Yes. Of course, I do." I squeeze his hand. "It’s just—this doesn’t feel real. A few weeks ago you wanted a friends-with-benefits thing. Now we’re moving in together?"

  "It’s not a big deal. You’d be staying at my place until you figure things out."

  Not having to worry about rent for a few months would be huge for my stress. "How long?"

  "For as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere until late September."

  The sleepy stupor from a hot meal and wine vanishes. "I guess…I’ll have to wait for you to come back."

  "Or you could follow me around the country." He says it in a shrugging tone, as though it’s nothing huge.

  Basically, he’s asking me to be his live-in girlfriend. A grin spreads across my face as I imagine our whirlwind romance, jetting with him around the world, cheering him in the stands, and killing time in hotel rooms. It’s on the tip of my tongue to fly into his arms and say yes. I want to be with him more than I want a stupid job at my father’s firm.

  "We’d visit a cat cafe in every city we visit. Now you can’t say no."

  "I don’t want to." I glance at my chipped nails and suck in a ragged breath. "I just can’t help but feel I’d be leeching off you."

  "I’ll worry about that when you start demanding Prada bags."

  My hair twists around my finger, and I yank hard, wishing I knew what I should do. Going on a year-long sabbatical would be career suicide, but a knife twists in my chest at the thought of being separated for so long. What if I gave my feelings for him a chance to grow this into something stronger?

  Let’s face it; I’m already more than halfway to yes. "I’ll think about it."

  13

  Grayson

  My smile curves into the pillow as Saffie unsticks her body from mine. Peering from half-closed eyes, I watch as she pads naked into the adjoining bathroom and opens the shower door. She’s being quiet for my sake, but I woke when her soft lips touched my cheek. Warmth blossomed over my skin.

  I slip from the sheets and walk into the restroom, arousal slowly ensnaring me like the steam grabbing my limbs. Saffie washes her curves. I push the glass, and she blinks through the hot spray, stepping away to give me space. Under the water, Saffie’s hair is liquid black pouring down her head. Her eyes shine like dark gems. I marvel at the smile meant for me because I thought I couldn't make another woman happy.

  I take the sponge from her and massage her back. She rests her face against my chest, arms wrapped around my waist. We do this a lot. Hold each other in silence. Nothing in the world comforts me more than having her in my embrace. Never felt peace like this before. Touching her makes me feel better about everything.

  She’s not just a fling.

  She’s my shelter, and I can’t imagine life without her.

  What’ll
happen when I’m traded? Tanner agreed to do it at the meeting. Next season, I won’t be in San Francisco. Either she’ll have to come with me, or I’ll need to give up my career. I still haven’t told her. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I’m worried what she will say. I don’t want to burst this shining bubble of happiness.

  Saffie wrings out her hair after stepping out of the stream of hot water. Her tits bounce as she wraps her head in a towel. I seize her nipple and pinch, blood rushing to my cock.

  She takes my hand, squeezing. "Can’t fool around right now. There’s something I want to watch."

  I roll my eyes. "You'll pass up sex for that dumb vampire show?"

  "It is epic, not stupid, but no. That’s not what I’m talking about." Her grin fades as she meets my gaze. "Come with me."

  With a groan, I shut off the water and dry myself. "What is it?"

  "You’ll see."

  Nothing ever good came from that tone. I pick out a gray shirt and pull it over my head, watching Saffie as she throws worried looks my way.

  "What did you do?" I laugh.

  Saffie combs her hair and dresses quickly, picking out a white tank top patterned with small, pink flowers. "It's not bad."

  "That makes it sound the opposite." I twist my wet towel, flicking it across her ass. "Tell me."

  "You’ll find out in two seconds. We need to go to the living room—"

  "Does this have to do with the impromptu lunch with Henry a few days ago?"

  Guilt shines through her eyes. "Maybe."

  I fucking knew it. "What was it about?"

  Looking scared, Saffie takes my hand and nudges me toward the door. I open it, and she pulls me through. Dread sinks into my stomach the closer we get to the living room. "He said it would be released today," she says. "I’m sure it’s already making the rounds in the media."

  "Who are you talking about?"

  Saffie guides me to the couch, where Titus and Chris mash controllers to Battlefield. They barely glance at us as we walk by.

  Saffie approaches them. "Do you mind if we switch to the news for a second?"