Pursued by the Player (Black Towers Book 3)

by Lauren Hawkeye

  “I did.”

  “So you could learn more about me and manipulate me.”

  “No!”

  “Now you know all about my past. What are you going to do, blackmail me?”

  “Of course not. I’d never do something so cruel.”

  “No, you’d just send in your coworkers to do your dirty work.”

  She averted her gaze, but not before Jett could see the guilt in her eyes. “Fuck Mel. I thought we had had something.”

  “We did. We do.”

  “No.” he shook his head. “You managed to extract information from me. Information you could use against me. . .” He widened his eyes as realization dawned. “If you ever think of exploiting that orphanage—”

  “No! Oh God, never.”

  “You better not. Those kids have nothing, Mel. It would be like kicking them while they are down.”

  “You have to know that I’m a better person than that.”

  “You see? There you go again. Claiming that I know better. The truth is, you know everything about me, but I know nothing about you. Not really.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Don’t put me on the spot like that.”

  “Go on, ask me any question you want. I’ll answer them.”

  “You’ll be honest?”

  She nodded and crossed her heart. “Go on.”

  He stared at her for a moment, considering. “Where were you born?”

  “In New Jersey. Both of my parents are still alive and together if you are wondering.”

  “Brothers or sisters?”

  “One sister, two brothers.”

  “A big, fucking, happy family.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “No, you know what’s not fair? Being fuckin’ used. I can’t take two steps in this city without someone wanting something from me, my picture, my money, my fame . . . Everyone takes and takes and gives nothing in return.”

  “I never wanted you to be a part of this.”

  “But you didn’t stop it, did you?”

  She shrunk back as if stung. “You wouldn’t understand. This business is tough, and—”

  “No, I wouldn’t understand. I wouldn’t understand wanting to make a name for myself, or wanting to follow my dreams and earn a living doing something I love. And I could never understand what it feels like to need acceptance and validation. No, I’m just some poor kid with no family and no friends. I could never understand that.” He shook his head and took a step back. “I built all of that for myself, Mel, and I didn’t have parents to pay my way through school or pull strings to get me a job.” When she widened her eyes, he nodded. “Oh yes, I know about your famous father, and how his investments opened doors for you. It’s all over the internet. It must be so horrible to have all of those expectations on your shoulders from people who care.”

  “I never meant to hurt you.” Her voice sounded quiet and defeated.

  “Save it for someone who cares.” Jett ignored the tightening in his chest, the one that told him he had gone too far, and turned his back to her. With quick, purposeful strides, he entered the locker room, putting Mel and the whole horrible business behind him.

  Chapter 10

  “Do you have the last of the designs ready?” Kennedy rubbed his hands as he walked into the room. “There’s only two more weeks until the show.” How was he always so damn put together? It wasn’t fair. Here she was, worked ragged with bags under her eyes and hair a mess and he walked in here looking fresh faced and ready to conquer the world in his designer jeans, suit coat, complete with pocket square, and dress shirt. It probably had something to do with the eye cream he kept in his desk and applied multiple times a day. The eye cream he thought no one knew about but was a running joke in the office.

  “It took a few tries, and a little arm pulling. . .” Mel put down her pencil and took off her glasses, placing them on a toppling plie of fabric samples and design sketches. Her desk had become as cluttered as she felt, papers piled high, sketches strewn everywhere, every inch of her desk covered “But I think we’ve got them.” She grabbed a mouse and opened a couple of windows on her computer.

  “Wow, that’s amazing. Is that for the finale?”

  “Yeah. I thought we’d go out with a splash.” A sleek, high waisted, leather pencil skirt with heavy fringe that started at the knee and fell to the floor was paired with a sporty baseball inspired tee – a white bodice with black sleeves and Los Angeles written in black lettering on the front. A quilted leather black clutch with a long, delicate gold chain and gold bangles completed the look.

  “I wanted to create something that everyone could wear. Something practical.” She shifted slowly through the designs.

  “They look so . . . sporty.”

  “I was inspired.” That wasn’t the whole truth. She couldn’t get Jett out of her mind, and it seemed as if thoughts of him had blended into her work. The outfits were either inspired by baseball or the team logo. “I thought that some of these could be adapted to children as well.” She paused on a screen. “Like this one. I call it the player.” Grey fitted slacks with a black stripe down each side was paired with a solid black shirt with a silver, sequined lion on the front, designed to look like Jett’s tattoo. The look was completed with a black baseball hat that had a black leather strap around the front. “I was thinking for the kids, we go with gray sweats or leggings, complete with black stripe to keep them looking baseball inspired, change the color of the shirt to white with black sleeves, and make the lion a full-color image instead of sequin applique.”

  “Expanding the market. Good thinking.” He studied her face for a moment as if considering something. “I think that this might be your best work yet.”

  “It is?” She glanced at the computer screen.

  “Absolutely.” He pointed to the design on the screen. “It’s high concept and adaptable. I think that the marketing on this is incredible. If we can get your boyfriend—“

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  He raised his brows. “Friend?”

  She shook her head as a heaviness weighed on her heart. “Not even that, I’m afraid.”

  “What happened?” He crossed his arms. “You two were getting such great publicity.”

  She pressed her lips together in thought. There he went again. Always thinking about the job, or what angle he could play. “Forget it.”

  “Forget what?” He widened his eyes in innocence.”

  “I’m not dragging Jett into this.”

  “It could be mutually beneficial.”

  “No way.” She minimized the windows with the designs on her computer. “I’d rather have no designs than to include him.”

  Kennedy leaned against the side of her desk and crossed his arms. “You have to be seen with him.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Nothing’s impossible.” He leaned forward and grabbed her upper arms. “Think about it. These designs were obviously inspired by him. If we don’t have his backing, they are going to be ten times harder to sell.” He tightened his grip briefly before letting go. “We might as well not sell them at all.”

  “Are you telling me that you are going to cut the line if we can’t get Jett on board?”

  He shrugged. “Ideally, I’d like the whole team, but I would settle for the star player.”

  “You’re terrible.”

  “I’m a businessman.” He nudged her calf with his foot. “Relax. I’m not asking for a lifetime commitment here. Just . . . Go out with him a few times, and make sure some photographers are there.”

  “You want me to manipulate him.”

  “He would get some great publicity out of it as well.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  He took in a breath and let it out again before he spoke. “Look, if you want to get anywhere in this business, then you have to start thinking like a businesswoman. These days, it’s not about the clothing itself, but the marketing, the brand asso
ciated with it.” He waved his hand in the air. “We could pass off paper bags as dresses and have women scrambling for them if we had a big name backing it.”

  “But these aren’t dresses. Their every day—“

  “I know, I know. That’s not my point. My point is. . .” He straightened away from the desk. “You have a lot of potential, Melody, but spots on my team go to people who are willing to play the game, and play hard.” He pointed at the screen. “That clothing line is incredible, but it is nothing without a marketing spin.”

  “Marketing. . .” Mel didn’t like where this conversation was going.

  “People need a purpose, a reason to buy a product. Being pretty doesn’t cut it anymore.”

  “How about functionality?”

  He scowled. “People buy things to be seen in them. They buy for labels and how it makes them feel. Give this clothing a label, give it a purpose.” He brushed his fingers against her arm. “If you do, then I promise you that not only will this clothing line sell, but it will make you a star.”

  Mel watched him leave as she turned his words over in her head. Make her a star . . . She had no use for fame or popularity, but she had to admit that he had a point. Clothing needed a purpose, and perhaps that purpose could be to make amends.

  She grabbed her cell and pulled up Jett’s number. Rubbing her fingers over the keys, she thought about sending a lengthy email explaining her plan but then dismissed it. If he knew what she was up to, then he might not come. Better to make things vague, and then let him be surprised. It would be even better if she made it more personal.

  Tightening her grip on her phone, she called downstairs and asked for a front row seat ticket at her fashion show. Then she pulled out some stationary, and began to write. . .

  Jett stared down at the words on the pink stationary in his hand. I know how you must feel about me, but please come to the show. There will be a surprise.

  Melody had signed her name in the same curvy script of the request. It was written by a feminine hand and reminded Jett of Mel’s sultry curves. Fuck, he had loved that body, every soft inch of it.

  The last few days had been torture. Mel was never far from his thoughts. He saw her everywhere, heard her everywhere. Even her goddamn scent haunted him like a ghost. She was the only person who knew his past and didn’t think less of him. She had seen through the playboy façade to the man underneath. He had thought that she was different, that she liked him and not what he could give her.

  But he was wrong. She was just like everyone else. Friends, teammates, reporters, even his agent wanted a piece of his income. Everyone stood around him with their hands out, waiting for him to pay for their companionship. Mel had been just like the rest, using his name and likeness to pimp her new clothing line.

  Clothes. It was a new low. With his luck, this new line was pink and feminine. Now his name was associated with a bunch of frilly nonsense. It was going to take months to disentangle himself from her claws and redefine his brand. His publicist had already chewed him out for approving something that had nothing to do with his image.

  But he didn’t approve it, did he? And that was what made Mel lower than all of the other vultures circling him. They were all up front with him, either with contracts or deals sealed with handshakes. Jett knew what he was getting into with them. Mel had blind-sided him, and he was still reeling.

  That was why he would never go to her dumb fashion show, and why he wouldn’t even dignify her letter with a response. Let her rot, let them all rot. He was better off by himself.

  “Hey Jett, you’re wanted on the field,” Diaz called from the doorway.

  Crumpling the note, Jett shoved both it and the ticket into his duffle bag and tossed the mess into his locker.

  “Hey! Easy now.”

  Jett looked up at Diaz rounding the row of lockers with his hands raised. “Tell them I’m coming.”

  “Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Diaz joked.

  “Fuck you.” Jett rubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry. I guess I haven’t been myself lately.”

  “Tell me about it. You’re late for practice. Your pitching has gone to shit. . .” He shook his head. “Look, man, I wasn’t going to say anything . . . but there have been rumors.”

  “Rumors?”

  “You’re losing your touch.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Diaz leaned against the row of lockers and crossed his arms. “I don’t know what hold that girl has over you, but you need to shake it. Coach is talking about benching you for tomorrow’s double header.”

  “No.” Jett slammed his locker door shut. “He can’t do that.”

  Diaz shrugged. “Quite frankly, I don’t blame him. If you pitch tomorrow night like you’ve been pitching all week, we’ll never make the playoffs.”

  “I’ll do better.”

  “I hope so.” Diaz straightened away from the locker. “For all our sakes.”

  With his job on the line, Jett pushed aside all thoughts of Mel and focused on practice. After a few throws, he had his pitching arm back and managed to give the other players a run for their money. After he struck out his fifth batter, the coach declared that they had their star pitcher back and Jett grinned as his teammates cheered him back in the locker room. After showering and changing, the guys wanted to know if he wanted to go to the local bar for a beer. Feeling better than he did in days, Jett agreed. While he wasn’t particularly close with his teammates, they’d provide some much-needed companionship, and the bar would provide a never-ending sea of women ready to ride his cock. It was the perfect combination to finally get rid of Melody’s memory once and for all.

  As they left the locker room, a tall woman stood by the exit to the building. She leaned against the doorway wither arms crossed and a scowl on her face. When she saw Jett, she straightened and began closing the distance between them.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Olivia, so nice to see you.” His teammates made cat calls until Jett waved them off. “I’ll catch up to you.”

  “Don’t take too much time. Those ladies won’t wait forever,” Diaz said.

  Jett chuckled until he saw Liv’s scowl deepen. He cleared his throat and lifted his chin. “What?”

  “You’re a pig.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She waved her hand in the air in disgust. “And to think I stood up for you.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  She ground her teeth. “Did you at least get her note?”

  “Whose note?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me. Mel’s invitation to her fashion show.”

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  “Are you going?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t support manipulators.”

  “She didn’t manipulate you.”

  “Sure looks like it from where I’m standing.”

  “Jesus, don’t you know anything?” When he didn’t respond, she crossed her arms again. “She had nothing to do with this. It was all Kennedy.”

  “Kennedy?”

  “Her boss.” She rolled her eyes. “The asshole has her working twenty-four hours a day on this project. He’s using her relationship with you to market this new clothing line.”

  “Something Melody didn’t protest.”

  “Are you daft? Of course she protested. She threatened to quit.”

  “Why didn’t she?”

  She stared at him for a minute before responding. “How can you ask that question?”

  He shrugged.

  “Not everyone is like you and has fistfuls of money in the bank.” She made a noise of disgust and adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder. “She needs the money, knucklehead. Heading up this project is an amazing opportunity, and she feels that if she’s in charge, she has more control over the designs that are released.”

  “And this has to do with me because. . .”

 
; “Look, I know she hurt you. The world knows that she hurt you . . . you . . . big baby.”

  “Hey.”

  “Ever think what your whining is doing to her reputation?”

  “I don’t whine.”

  “Sure. Look. I’m not asking you to date her again. Just . . . Give her a chance to set things right.”

  “You mean give her a chance to twist the knife.”

  “Don’t be an idiot. Go to the fashion show. If, after talking to her, you still want to walk away, then do it, but at least give the girl a chance. She deserves that much. The poor girl’s been just miserable.” She stepped back and sighed. “She might have hurt you, but you hurt her, too.”

  “Hurt her? How?”

  Liv turned on her heel and strode through the exit.

  “How did I hurt her?” Jett chased after her, but she had already disappeared into the crowd. Steeling his jaw, Jett searched around in his duffle bag until he found the ticket.

  Give her a chance to explain. Why should he? He knew from experience that girls like Mel would only use the opportunity to hurt him again.

  But what if Liv was right, and Mel was different? Could he walk away from the situation without giving her a chance to explain?

  As he walked toward his waiting limo, he curled his fingers around the ticket. Decisions, decisions. . .

  “Where to, sir?” the driver asked as Jett got into the car. “I heard some of the players were going to the bar—“

  “No, take me home, Vince. It’s been a long day.” And he had a lot of thinking to do.

  Chapter 11

  “This is truly amazing, kid. I think we have the largest turnout in the history of Fresh Fashions,” Kennedy said from behind Mel’s shoulder.

  Mel sighed and closed the thick, velvet curtain. “I suppose.” She turned toward him and tried to appear cheerful.

  “Smile, child. We’re about to make fashion history.” He pressed his finger under her chin. “I’m proud of you, kid. You did well.” He lowered his hand and glanced around. “We have record numbers, which means record profits. Even if no one buys a stitch of clothing, the cost of the seats alone will put us in the black.” He grinned and rubbed his hands. “I’ll finally get to show up that horrible Evelynn Byers. For years she has been outselling me, but now. . .” He took in a deep breath and let it out. “Now I will finally have my revenge. “ He winked at Mel. “There is a great future for you at Fresh Fashions, you know.”