Personal Foul (Moving the Chains Book 6)

by Kata Čuić

  There’s no one here. No one can get in without the code. Not to this property, and not into the entire neighborhood.

  We’re safe here. Just as Alex promised.

  We truly can’t stay forever though.

  I hold my breath and press the button to lift the garage door.

  My spot is empty.

  I step into the garage, still holding onto Layla in her carrier. A glance to my left reveals Alex’s Lamborghini. He can’t drive for a few months, so he left it here. Beside that is his old car from college that he still has.

  I don’t know why—other than to have something to take up all the space in this garage that’s as big as some of the houses I looked into renting when I first arrived in Orlando.

  I glance to my right. My SUV is parked at the far end of the garage.

  “It’s fine. It’s fine,” I murmur to Layla as I cross the distance. “Mommy’s losing her mind. That’s all.”

  Layla isn’t the only one who desperately needs to get out of the house. Alex, Rob, and Evie have only been gone for a few weeks, but it’s already beginning to feel like solitary confinement of my own making. I could call my mother, but I’m not ready to face more of her disappointment yet. I’m not strong enough.

  I manage to avoid looking at the graffiti on my car by opening the back door to tuck Layla into her car seat.

  Alex did, indeed, install the base. On the other side.

  I can’t avoid reality forever. With a bracing breath, I haul Layla’s carrier back out of the car and march toward the hood. I blink at it. Nothing is there. Not even a smudge of red.

  Tears blur my vision anyway.

  Alex scrubbed the paint off.

  That’s why my car is parked in a different spot.

  I swipe the sticky note he left on the hood.

  I’m not losing my mind, but my heart is already a lost cause.

  Now that I’m not in abject pain around the clock, I can think a little more clearly. I don’t like the thoughts I’m thinking. Not at all.

  Charlie lets out a gasp. “Is that her?”

  “It is.” I’m equally surprised to see him. I thought I could sneak into my office quietly during the off season. I’m still not sure how I’m going to handle the violation of the entire team betting on my personal life, but I honestly had nowhere else to go in this vast city. I got in the car and drove to work on autopilot. I haven’t had time to make a life for myself in Orlando outside of this job and this baby.

  Charlie creeps forward until he’s gazing down. He wears a small smile and eyes filled with awe.

  I never imagined he’d be a secret baby lover. I never imagined a lot of things before I accepted a job with the Orlando Sharks.

  “Hey, cutie,” he whispers. He’s not staring at my abundant cleavage. He has stars in his eyes as he gazes at my daughter. “You look just like your dad.”

  Charlie isn’t wrong. With her bright blue eyes, shock of black hair, and pale baby skin, Layla resembles Alex far more than she looks like me.

  I’m honestly surprised Alex never mentioned—or noticed—how similar in appearance he and her sperm donor are.

  I refuse to feel guilty about that. Everyone has a type. I never knew Alex was mine before I met him.

  Layla blinks up at the stranger from her spot nestled against my chest. This wrap-sling baby wearing carrier took me a solid hour to figure out on my own, but it was well worth the time and frustration. My hands are free, and Layla’s happy as a lark in this warm cocoon. She’s safe while getting to experience new things.

  Charlie glances up at me with a wide grin. “What’s her name?”

  I’m surprised Alex didn’t text a flamboyant birth announcement to the entire team, though he did let me know he asked them to steer clear of the house until we were ready to receive visitors.

  “Layla Adeline Fossoway,” I answer. At least Alex gave her the middle name that I’d picked out.

  Charlie straightens and scratches his chin. “You know, it’s weird. I’m a pro football player. I have a multi-million-dollar contract, but I can’t imagine what it’s like for her to be born into this life. I grew up so dirt poor, I thought I’d be hungry until the day I died. My dad left my mom with six mouths to feed. She did the best she could, but it was never enough. Layla has two parents who love her and will stick around, and she’s already filthy rich without having to work a day in her life!”

  Charlie has only known Alex for a single season, yet he’s already one-hundred-percent confident that Alex will never turn his daughter away.

  I am, too.

  I place a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “You have worked so hard to reach your goals and turn your life around. Promise me you’ll always draw on the wisdom of your humble beginnings to teach you how to be a better man. Not only for yourself, but for others as well.”

  Awareness washes over Charlie’s face. “Oh. I guess you’re leaving us, too, huh? Makes sense. It must suck for Alex to be on the other side of the country while you and Layla are here.”

  I nod. It does suck. “I noticed Blake’s car in the parking lot. Is he here, too? I wanted him to meet Layla as well.”

  Charlie nods, but he also frowns. “Yeah, he’s here. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to bring Layla around him though. He’s been a loose cannon at all the workouts so far. Screaming and yelling at people like a diva. The coaches don’t even know what crawled up his ass. I don’t get it. He got what he wanted. Alex is gone.”

  Charlie’s eyes widen. He snaps his mouth shut.

  More suspicion piles onto my already overwhelmed brain. “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing.” Charlie shakes his head wildly and takes a step back. “It means nothing. I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  I hum and stroke Layla’s cheek. “If you are concerned about revealing the nature of their bet to me, don’t be. I already know all about it.”

  I don’t, but I’m going to find out.

  He huffs a sigh of relief as his shoulders relax. “It was shitty that the whole team bet against Alex except Gorge. Mayview won a fuck-ton of money he doesn’t need when Alex left, even though he didn’t put a ring on your finger either.”

  “I am genuinely surprised that the bet wasn’t called off because of my pregnancy. The teammates who wagered against Alex had to know they were going to lose,” I lead.

  Charlie shrugs and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his sweat pants. “I thought so, too. Maybe they would have called it off if Mayview wasn’t always telling everyone how he was going to steal you from under Alex’s nose. I guess the guys thought since Alex had a favorite stripper at the club that it was likely.”

  “How is Lexi?” I ask.

  I wish I had her contact information to make sure her son’s therapy will be taken care of in Alex’s absence. Then again, Alex has probably already seen to it.

  Charlie’s eyes widen. “You know about her?”

  I nod. “Yes. She’s a wonderful mother. I can only hope to be as selfless of a parent as she is.”

  “She has a kid?” Charlie swallows like he has a mouthful of something sour.

  “It’s not so surprising, is it? We never truly know someone.”

  Except when we do. From experience.

  “I guess not,” he admits. “Mayview and Betts are both in the cardio room. If you want to show them Layla, then I’ll come with you. At least with me and Gorge there, you’ll be safe from any QB temper tantrums.”

  “We’ll be just fine,” I assure him.

  He accompanies us anyway.

  Damn it. More witnesses.

  I asked Alex for sex lessons in college, but I hope he’d be proud that I’ve also learned how to act from him. I paste on my most seductive smile. My hair looks like a rat’s nest, so I tousle it with my fingers. I pull the neckline of my shirt down a fraction. My breasts are bigger than they’ve ever been, so that works in my favor. Layla’s sling hides my no longer flat tummy, and she’s blinking and cooing li
ke a perfect little angel.

  I walk up to where Blake’s running on a treadmill.

  “We’re ready,” I announce as Gorge and Charlie watch.

  “I’m in the middle of a run,” Blake pants.

  “Did you hear that, darling?” I stroke Layla’s cheek. “More bad timing. Oh, well. We’ll wait like good girls for Daddy to be done with his workout.”

  Blake nearly trips over his own feet. He punches the emergency stop button on the control panel. “What?”

  I smile sweetly and continue to caress my perfect daughter. “We’re ready. You won. Alex lost. He’s gone, and we’re all here. Layla is two months old now. If we wait much longer, she will not know who her father is.” I extend my left hand. “I hope it’s the right size. I’ve never measured my ring finger before.”

  Blake blinks at me like I’m speaking a foreign language. “What?”

  I point at my hand. “My ring. I’m ready for my ring now. You were right. Alex was horrible. He abandoned us, and now we have no one to care for us. What are two girls supposed to do all alone in the world? I’m so grateful you’ve been fighting for us all this time. You’re going to be a wonderful husband and father.”

  “I’m not even thirty! I can’t be tied down yet!” he sputters.

  I have never been very good at pouting. I prefer to go after what I want. I stick out my bottom lip anyway. “What happened to being better for us than Alex? What about all the times you whispered to me that I deserved so much more than he could offer?” I wrap my arm around Layla’s body then step up to Blake until we’re plastered together from shoulder to hip. I run a finger down his sweaty chest. “You do not want this?” I lick my lips and whisper seductively, “I could make it very good for you. Just imagine—blow jobs whenever you want. A soft, warm body waiting in bed for you when you return from a grueling game on the road. I don’t usually advertise this, but I want you to know…I’m a fantastic cook.”

  Blake looks like I’m offering him his worst nightmare.

  I probably am.

  Layla grunts.

  I glance down to see her eyes squinted and her little cupid’s bow mouth pulled down into a deep frown. Seconds later, a sound and an odor that should not be possible from such a small body fills the air.

  Blake tries to step away, but he falls backward onto the treadmill that’s directly behind him.

  I step up and place my foot strategically above an appendage that he will need if he ever changes his mind about fatherhood. “You will take your winnings from the bet and write a check to a charity of your choice. Preferably one to do with children. You will no longer visit the Shark Tank Club. If you have an itch, you will scratch it with your own hand until you learn how to treat a woman. If you do not do these things, then I will be forced to do something I would rather not do.”

  “You’re crazy,” Blake spits. He whips his gaze to the other men in the room. “She’s crazy! Don’t just stand there! Help me!”

  Gorge laughs. He has his phone aimed at us. “I am helping. I’m recording this for extra insurance in case the threat of losing your dick isn’t enough motivation.”

  I tsk. “I’m not threatening to commit physical assault. I’m a professional psychologist. Violence is not a healthy method of conflict resolution. What I am saying is that I have concrete proof that you are guilty of cyberbullying and defamation of my character. Oh, and also inciting others to commit crimes of vandalism.”

  Blake’s mouth opens and closes several times. “I—I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Really?” I apply a little more pressure to his testicles. Just a little. “That’s odd because the morning my car was vandalized in the parking lot of this facility, several social media posts traced to the IP address of your cell phone spoke of false paternity claims about my daughter. It’s exceptionally poor judgment to involve minors in public libel. The courts really do frown on that sort of behavior. The security cameras in the parking lot identified the vandals, who have already been interviewed and gave sworn statements about their involvement based on your inaccurate and inflammatory posts. Do I need to go on?”

  He blows out a breath of defeat. “How? How’d you trace it to me?”

  “I didn’t.” I shrug and remove my foot, placing Layla and myself on stable ground again. “My sister did. I believe you’ve met Jasmine.”

  “You don’t even have a sister,” Gorge scoffs. “You’re an only child.”

  Blake glances between us. “Who the hell was that at the hospital then? She was at the baby shower. I know she was.”

  I shake my head. “It’s amazing to me that you didn’t recognize one of the most recognizable spouses in the league simply because she looked more like a frazzled mother than a WAG.”

  Gorge bursts out laughing. “Let me guess. It was Falls, wasn’t it? That woman has lady balls of steel.”

  I nod.

  Blake doesn’t seem convinced. He furrows his brow. “Jasmine…was really…Rob Falls’s wife? But, but, but…she’s fuck-hot! I saw that nude spread she did in college! Your sister was…not.”

  Even flat on his black, Blake isn’t learning his lesson.

  I pick up my foot. He covers his privates with his hands.

  “That woman knows how to use leverage in her favor. Something she taught me. We may not be related by blood, but she’s absolutely my sister.”

  Just as Alex is Layla’s father.

  “So, what?” Blake finally pulls himself up to a sitting position to glare at me. “You and Falls are going to blackmail me?”

  “I prefer to think of it as motivation.”

  I walk away with my head held high. I have another diaper blowout to deal with. And then, I have much more work to do.

  Now that I have my power back, I’m going to exchange it with someone who deserves it.

  “Get a room,” Christina groans.

  I never thought I’d agree with Evie’s younger sister about anything, but here we are. Sitting at the kitchen table in the Falls house while we wait for Rob to stop mauling Evie, so she can finish dinner.

  After a long day of PT, I’m starving.

  Rob unwraps his arms from around his wife’s waist, turns around, and makes a big show of rolling his eyes. “It’s my house!”

  “Dude.” I shake my head and reach for one of my super-secret stashes of baby cookies.

  I’ve got them hidden all over the house. Training Rob and Evie to behave is a lot more entertaining than the spray bottle I used to train Pavlov not to chew up the carpet at my house. I pull a biter biscuit out of its hiding place and wave it in the air.

  Robbie claps in the highchair beside me.

  “No.” Rob holds his hands up in surrender. “Do not do it. That is my kid. Dinner’s almost ready. You can’t keep giving him cookies every time I annoy you!”

  “Who invited all these people to live here?” I ask calmly as I unwrap the cookie that’ll turn to slime in seconds between Robbie’s gums.

  Rob’s shoulders sag. “Me. I did.”

  “And who thinks it’s a good idea to slap his wife’s ass in front of both of their mothers?”

  “I—”

  “Don’t you dare deny it,” Christina hisses from the chair on my other side. “We were all in the room! It wasn’t even subtle!”

  A slamming sound ricochets through the kitchen. Evie turns around. Slowly. She crosses her arms over chest. “Do you two want to eat this food?”

  Christina leans closer to me and hisses, “She’s going to try to force our hand. Don’t let her call your bluff.” She straightens and stares down her older sister. “I actually prefer Mama or YiaYia’s cooking, thanks.”

  “Shut up,” I hiss back. “Your grandmother put powdered sugar instead of flour in dinner last night.”

  “She’s a hundred years old,” Christina yelps. “Give her a break!”

  “So, you’re saying you really want to eat this food.” Evie smiles.

  I think I’m going to sta
rt calling her Evil.

  Rob’s mom walks into the kitchen, still dressed in her nurses’ scrubs from a shift at the ER.

  Christina leaps up from her chair. “Does it bother you when your son slaps his wife’s ass in front of you?”

  “I prefer that over him slapping her in the face,” she replies evenly.

  Undeterred, Christina turns to her 100-year-old grandmother who’s been sitting quietly at the head of the kitchen table, doing a crossword puzzle. She spouts off something in Greek that I don’t remotely understand.

  I do understand Rob’s desire to learn the language. I doubt I’ll have to learn Aramaic, Syriac, Arabic, or whatever anytime soon. I can’t imagine Amira ever wanting her parents around all that often.

  YiaYia slaps her crossword down on the table, slowly rises from her chair, then crosses the kitchen to Rob.

  He actually cowers. It’s fucking hilarious. A huge, Jolly Green Giant, professional quarterback is afraid of a frail woman who’s lived a century.

  She gestures for him to bend down, and he does. Like a good little whipping boy.

  She slaps him on the cheek and whispers something in Greek.

  Rob straightens and laughs his ass off.

  “What’d she say?” I whisper to Christina. Not gonna lie, I’m a little afraid of her, too. She wields a mean wooden spoon whenever I step out of line.

  “She said she wants to see more great-grandchildren before she dies,” Rob wheezes through his laughter.

  “Argh,” Christina yells. “This is madness! I don’t even know why I come to visit.”

  She stalks out of the room.

  Her mom stares at her trail as she walks in. “What just happened?”

  Evie shrugs. “She finds it personally offensive if Rob and I show any physical affection toward each other in her presence.”

  “I find it personally offensive,” I mutter. I stare at the dynamic duo Rob and Evie refer to as The Moms. “How do you put up with it? You actually live here permanently.”

  Evie’s mom smiles. “They’re our babies. We’re happy to see them happy.”