by Olivia Chase
After we returned from our honeymoon, we “cut the ribbon” on the location of our new sports agency. We initially decided on a soft opening, just quietly working our way back into the industry.
Funny enough, after Ryker proposed to me on the air, the audio clip went viral, and people went nuts for our relationship. Instead of asking us about all the negative crap that happened to us, the press has enjoyed following our engagement and marriage. It’s a much more positive story than anything Ryker used to get from the media, he told me.
And even though it’s not about our company, he doesn’t care. He’s proud that everyone knows his feelings, even if he has gotten teased by others in the industry on being so mushy.
I have three interviews lined up for this afternoon. We’ve already hired several women to fill roles as sports agents, and I’m interviewing for more.
Due to a strange twist of fate, Ryker’s private detective happened to find the old agent, Damon, who embezzled funds from former clients. He was hiding in South America, along with almost all of the money he stole. The police arrested him, and he was deported back to the States.
Using those recovered funds, plus some of his own to account for the small portion Damon had already spent, Ryker paid back the old clients who had been ripped off. He met with each of them individually, said there were no strings, no obligation, he just wanted to make things right.
Apparently, the shock over getting repaid, plus seeing the difference in Ryker’s attitude, spurred a good number of former clients to work with him at our new company. The spike has led to us needing more agents. A wonderful problem to have.
Our company already has way more women hired and brought in than ever seen in such a sports-oriented organization. And people are starting to notice. More female athletes are coming to us every day because of it.
My phone buzzes, and I peek down. It’s a text from my father.
That old instinctive reaction, a nervous twist of my gut, steals my breath. When I moved out back in December and returned to New York City, I avoided talking to anyone in my family for two months, even my mom. I just wasn’t ready.
Then my Dad called. It wasn’t a heartwarming call, mostly awkward with him asking me how I was and me telling him about being engaged. But it was a start, him reaching out to me.
The text is brief, just asking if I’m still planning to come home for my mom’s birthday next weekend…and if Ryker is coming with me. Surprisingly enough, after my explosive argument with him, he’s even been better with my mother, too. Trying to watch the patronizing comments he makes.
I think his effort is what keeps me trying to build something with him, even if it’s awkward and difficult. I’m still bitter and upset, but I’m working on letting it go. Holding on to my anger over my past hurts no one but me.
I’m ready to live my life, today. Now.
I text back that Ryker and I will be there. Amusingly enough, he’s pretty much fangirling in excitement to meet Ryker. A sports figure and businessman he’s looked up to for years.
Marietta calls me on the landline. “Hey, your first interview is here. Should I send her on back?”
“That would be great. Thank you!” We hang up, and I smile. When we told her we were starting a new sports company, she told Ryker he’d better hire her or she’d set our new building on fire. He smirked and said if she hadn’t wanted to work with him, he was gonna set her house on fire. I just laughed and shook my head. Those two.
Ryker gave her a healthy raise and a promotion, well deserved.
My phone buzzes again, but this time, it’s a message from Ryker. You know I love you, right?
You’d better, I text back as I smile.
We’re still settling into our life, but it’s going amazing already. Ryker respects my opinions and listens to me. I’m also still doing radio spots on Nancy’s show. Her listeners loved our spot so much that they asked me to be a regular, and the producers agreed. So now once a week, I get to talk with people about my favorite topic—sports.
I get up from my desk and open my door to meet the person I’m interviewing. She’s young, around my age, a black woman with natural hair, wearing a sleek red dress suit. Her lips are bright, her heels high, and she has assertiveness written all over her.
I like her instantly.
“Welcome,” I tell her, sticking out my hand. “I’m Andrea, and I’ll be interviewing you today. Come into my office.”
She gives me a warm smile and follows. “Thanks. I’m Ava.” When she settles into the plush leather chair across from my mahogany desk, she gives a wry grin. “I have to admit, I’m a little nervous.”
“I understand,” I tell her. “When I first interviewed with my husband, he tried to kick me out.”
She laughs. “Clearly that didn’t work.”
I shake my head. “No, I was tenacious. He was going to listen to me, because I knew I could do the job.” I rest my elbows on the desk. “Now, tell me about you. I want to hear about your passions and where you want to go in this industry. Let’s see if we can work together to get you there.”
Epilogue
Ryker
“Dad, here are more burgers,” Andrea’s brother John says as he comes out back from the kitchen sliding door. He brings a plate of hand-molded burger meat to his dad, who’s manning the grill. His gaze skitters to me, then looks away. As he’s done about fifty times now since we got here.
Andrea leans in and whispers, “He’s nervous. He idolized you when you were pitching.” She sighs with a chuckle. “But didn’t we all?”
I brush my lips across her temple. “How’s it going today? You uncomfortable? We can leave at any time.”
She shoots me a look of gratitude, and my heart gives that same painful throb of love I experience whenever we’re together. “I…admit, I was very anxious coming here.”
“I know.” She kept fidgeting with her hands in her lap until I put on her favorite music playlist to help distract her. I rub her back and let my hand drift to caress the top curves of her ass. We’re facing the yard, near the fence. No one can see us.
Her breathing grows rapid, and she melts against me. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. They’ve been pretty quiet to me. I think they’re eating some humble pie.”
Her dad comes over with two plates bearing burgers. “Just the way you guys like them. For our family celebrities.” I study his face hard as he says this, making sure there’s no sarcasm in his voice. But I only detect shy admiration.
“Thank you,” I say with a quick nod. “Looks delicious.” As long as he’s trying to make an effort with her, I’ll make one with him.
They recognize they fucked up, had it backward. Andrea was the one all along in their family who had the toughness to cut it in the sports industry. And seeing her rebuild without them, standing on her own two feet and remaining steadfast in her goals, really drove that home for them.
Andrea digs into her burger and moans. “This is great. Thanks, Dad.”
He gives her a genuine smile and leaves to go back to the grill. I put my plate down on the table and follow him over.
“Need any help?” I ask smoothly.
His laugh is nervous. “No. Sorry. I…I still can’t believe you’re here. The boys want to ask you to sign everything in the house, but they’re afraid of bugging you. You’re an inspiration to them. To us.”
“I’m only here because your daughter is an inspiration to me,” I say bluntly. I look down at him, since I’m a few inches taller, and make sure he sees the intent in my eyes. “I hope that in the future, you’ll recognize that. She’s an amazing woman.”
His cheeks turn a dusky pink. He doesn’t say anything, just swallows. I can see the shame flitting in his eyes.
“We’re family now,” I continue. “And even though things were rough between you guys, I know she’s glad to have you.” My mom’s face pops in my mind, and I feel that same bittersweet tug that I always do when I think of her. She would have
adored Andrea, I’m sure. A woman after her own heart. “You’ll have to come visit us in the city sometime. We can take in a game. I can get us VIP tickets to meet the team.”
His jaw drops, and he blinks. “Really? That would be amazing.” He realizes the burgers on the grill need flipped and turns his attention back to them. “Shit. These are gonna burn.”
“I’ll still eat them,” I admit. “I don’t care. I’m a huge meat fan.”
Andrea pops up at my side. She looks between the two of us, a nervous smile on her face.
“Want a beer?” she asks me and notes my nod, then turns to her dad. “Um, what about you?
“I’d like one, sure. Thank you.”
“You got it.” She draws her lower lip between her teeth and offers him a genuine smile, then leaves.
I take my seat and just watch as she returns with a handful of beers and distributes them to her dad and brothers. They all say thank you, and then draw her into a conversation about who she thinks in college football has a chance of being the first-round draft pick.
I smile as I listen to her rattle on about stats and her observations. The guys are riveted, taking note of what she’s saying and really listening to her opinion. She’s more than proven herself in their eyes. And in mine.
Eventually, I come join them, taking my beer from her, and jump in the conversation. Andrea’s mom watches on, quiet but wearing a happy smile. Like this is the gift she really wanted for her birthday—to see her family made whole again. Our eyes meet, and hers sparkle as she mouths, Thank you. I humbly shake my head and smile back. I didn’t do anything, but it’s so nice to be appreciated. We’re bringing my grandparents in this summer for a big family trip. A chance to unplug and get to know each other better. It’s so strange, being here. Strange, but I could get used to this.
On the car ride home, my wife falls asleep curled up in the seat. I reach over and touch her leg, just to feel connected to her. I see her shift and smile, and her hand brushes my fingers in a sleepy gesture.
It’s strange how much my life has changed. A year ago, I was on top at The Baldwin Corporation, believing nothing could bring me down. And when I hit my lowest point, this woman saved me with her love and courage. Her strength.
Back in the city, the traffic is bad but she doesn’t stir. I pull into my parking spot and after I park, exit the car and open her door. “Come on, lovely,” I say as I tug her toward me.
Her sleepy smile, the trust in her body as she curls against my side, sets my heart on fire.
I get her tucked in bed, then tiptoe to my computer. I didn’t check my phone at all while we were gone, and I’m waiting to hear from a potential client if she’s going to sign with us.
Halfway through my email inbox, I see an email from an unknown address. The subject line says IMPORTANT NEWS, RYKER—PLEASE OPEN
Is this spam? If so, it’s unusually personal. I don’t know the email address, and I go to move the message into trash when I pause. Click on it.
The message is short and to the point.
I have something to tell you about what really happened to your mother.
~ A friend
THE END
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Bonus Content: The Billionaire and the Nanny (Book One) by Paige North
Penelope
I stand at the steps of a gorgeous brownstone on the Upper East Side across from the Metropolitan Museum, in a quiet, wealthy neighborhood. Taking a deep breath, I wonder if I should button the top button of my blouse or loosen it. I don’t want to appear too Super Nanny but I don’t want to look unserious either.
I mean, this is Ethan Townsend we’re talking about.
Ethan Townsend, the steel magnate always in the headlines for being difficult…and womanizing…and oh, yeah, richer and more handsome than God. Apparently, he inherited something unexpected two months ago when his brother-in-law and older sister died in a terrible car accident, something that has apparently turned his world upside-down.
His seven-month-old niece—Lilly Belle Townsend—is now his charge to raise, and he knows nothing about being a father.
That’s where we come in.
Or rather, that’s where I’m supposed to come in. The problem is that I’m not even sure how long I’ll last. After all, the particularly demanding Mister Townsend has apparently run through three or four nannies from the agency in less than a month.
Who’s to say I’ll fare any better than the girls who came before me?
I decide on keeping the buttoned-up look for a more polished, professional vibe.
I ring the doorbell and force a smile, remembering that I am in beautiful New York City in the fall.
I have to remind myself to take it all in—the blustery breeze, the swirling leaves, the sounds of the bustling city in the background, the laughter of children playing at the park… A cool front is starting to blow through, marking the end of summer.
NYC is so different than Southern Georgia, where I spent 99 percent of my life thus far. The only thing that changes there throughout the year is the humidity.
I’m excited about the weather changes but nervous as all hell about meeting this man whose work in the steel industry has been a metaphor for his whole life—hard, cold, and unbending.
Shiver.
The door in front of me suddenly opens and reveals the man, the myth, the legend.
There he is. It’s him. Holy hell. Breathe, Penelope.
The man from my pre-job research—Ethan Townsend, CEO of the most successful Fortune 500 company this year, Townsend Industries—stands over six-feet-four with dark hair, short on the sides, long on top, and a five o’clock shadow on his chiseled jaw that is sexy as sin. He wears sharp, precise, well-fitted gray pants, steel-toned buttoned shirt, shiny shoes, and a frustrated expression on his face, like he wants nothing more than to get the hell out of the apartment so he can be where he really belongs. The office.
“Yes?” he says in a disaffected tone, as if he hadn’t expected me.
Dread floods my stomach, as he examines me. Top to bottom, his gaze lingers at my breasts, my face, even leaning to one side as if checking out my ass, undressing me with his cold blue eyes.
Gulp.
“I’m here from Le Nanny?” I say, sounding small and weak. My professionalism gets cut down to size with every second he stares at me. So much for new beginnings and confidence. This man makes me feel all too self-aware. I swallow again and try not to feel like his stare-down is about sex, but my desperately inexperienced, weak body knows it’s a lie.
He’s only sizing you up, Penelope, my brain tries to rationalize. Trying to get a feel, a first impression. All men do it. He’s noticing how qualified and proficient I appear, how well-put-together, how perfect for the job I am. It’ll all be okay.
I hold out my hand firmly. “You are Mr. Townsend? And I—”
“No,” he says firmly. And then the ornate wooden door slams in my face, as the swirling, gusty wind curls all around me. I’m in a state of shock.
Nobody’s ever just slammed a door in my face like that. But then again, I am used to Southern hospitality. This is New York, I tell myself, and the social conventions are quite different.
But still…What the hell?
I can’t be dismissed without even getting a chance. The money for this particular gig is better than I’ve ever received in the past. I need the money and I refuse to be thrown aside before this arrogant man has spoken two words to me.
“Mr. Townsend?” I knock, stuffing my indignity down and taking a deep, calming breath.
Behind the door, I hear footsteps returning, the lock unlatching, and again, Ethan Townsend stands there holding onto the door frame. “Maybe you didn’t hea
r me, but I said no.” He begins closing the door again, but I reach out a hand to stop it from crunching on my fingers. His glare on me both scares the crap out of me and sends shivers down into the pit of my core.
But I shove aside the ridiculous feelings of lust that I feel in his presence. He’s handsome as hell and his charisma is certainly all that the tabloids have made it out to be and more. But I’m a professional and I soldier ahead. “No, as in you don’t need a nanny anymore?” I ask. “Or no to me, specifically?”
“No, I don’t want you, specifically. I’ll contact the agency and have them send someone else. Thank you for your time.” Again, he begins closing the door, and again, I stop it, this time with my foot. Shit. Why am I taking this so personally?
“I’m sorry…” I force a smile and air back into my lungs. “But you don’t know the first thing about me. You haven’t even spoken to me, asked me any interview questions…nothing. I’m pretty sure you can’t fire me based on looks alone, Mr. Townsend.”
“Actually, I can, and I will,” he says, blocking my view from the inside foyer. “I’m rich, and money is the only thing that matters in this town. I’m sure when I voice my displeasure to your agency, they’ll send someone more to my style. Thank you and goodbye.”
“More to your style? Like the other handful of nannies you’ve already fired?” I shoot back, immediately regretting my hasty words.
Shit, he’s already got me rattled.
Ethan Townsend’s eyes narrow ever so slightly and his jaw muscle twitches. For some reason, I feel a surge of arousal and power, knowing I’ve somehow impacted him with my comment.
His lip curls into something resembling a sneer. “If I run through two dozen nannies in the next two hours, the agency will supply more. Until I find someone who suits this position to my liking.”