by Sybil Bartel
Three suits walked in and sat at the opposite end of the table.
I didn’t hear a goddamn word of the introductions. Clark Kent spoke for Red, and the asshole’s lawyers spoke for him. Then Burrows’s lawyers were opening a file and addressing DeMarco.
Estate, five million, he keeps his job, bullshit legalese, then they were done with him.
They looked at Red, and I sat up straighter. Her hand in mine under the table, I squeezed, but what I really wanted to do was pinch her perfect nipples until they darkened.
“Miss Montclair.” The oldest lawyer closed the file in front of him and paused. “Your grandfather was very particular about the circumstances of your inheritance.” He glanced at Ahlstrom then zeroed in on Red and dropped his bomb. “Your grandfather has left you his entire share of the ownership of the team… if you marry Mr. Ahlstrom.”
Wait.
What?
I opened my mouth before I could stop myself. “She has to marry that fucking asshole if she wants her inheritance?” Pure, unadulterated rage bled from my veins and took up the whole fucking room. She wasn’t fucking marrying him, no goddamn way.
Clark fucking Kent’s hand landed on my shoulder. “Can you please clarify the terms of the will?”
I ground my fucking teeth. I didn’t look at Red. I couldn’t. If I saw even a motherfucking hint of distress on her face, I was going to lose my fucking shit.
Burrows’s lawyer opened the folder. “Miss Montclair has fifteen days to wed Mr. Ahlstrom in a legally binding contract of marriage and the shares of Mr. Burrows’s ownership of the team will be transferred to Miss Montclair, minus two percent, which will transfer to Mr. Ahlstrom. If the marriage is not consummated, or dissolved before one year, or if Miss Montclair refuses to marry Mr. Ahlstrom, Mr. Burrows’s fifty-two percent ownership will be sold at market value in an equal split to the other four owners of the team.”
“Mm-hm.” Clark Kent wrote on a yellow fucking pad like this was Law School one-oh-one. “And how much are Mr. Burrows’s shares currently valued at?”
“Approximately one-point-two-five billion,” the older lawyer answered.
Clark Kent looked up with his pen hovering over his pad. “And what happens to the funds received if the sale of Mr. Burrows’s shares are sold to the other owners?”
“Mr. Ahlstrom, Mr. DeMarco and Miss Montclair will each receive ten million dollars. The rest of the funds will go into a trust for research for Huntington’s Disease and autosomal disorders. The trust and the appropriation of those funds will be managed by this firm.”
Clark Kent looked off into the distance for a moment like he was fucking lost. “And one last question. If Miss Montclair contests this will based on the fact that Mr. Ahlstrom has physically assaulted, mentally abused and illegally stalked her, what language is in place?”
Ahlstrom shoved his chair back and stood. “I never hurt her! I never even hit her!”
“Did I say hit, Mr. Ahlstrom?” Barrett calmly asked Ahlstrom.
“Sit down,” one of his lawyers hissed.
I couldn’t take it another second. I looked at Red.
Back straight, ankles crossed, sitting on the edge of her chair, she didn’t blink. Her eyes weren’t filled with tears and her lips weren’t pressed together. She didn’t look upset. She didn’t look angry. She didn’t even look agitated. Her expression was one hundred percent professional, and I fucking knew why.
I leaned to her ear and whispered so only she could hear while the lawyers all started arguing. “You are bad-fucking-ass, Red.”
She looked at me, and for one split second, her expression softened and, just barely, the side of her mouth twitched, then her suit expression locked back into place. “Why thank you, Mr. Brandt.”
She was gonna give up the team for her mother. I was so goddamn proud, I didn’t even give a fuck about the quarterback.
“Sie,” Ahlstrom yelled out. “Your grandfather wanted this, he wanted us together!”
With more poise than any woman I’d ever known, Red stood up. “Mr. Ahlstrom, I can assure you that what Mr. Burrows wanted is of no consequence to me.”
“You’re not going to keep your job if you throw away the team. You’re going to need money to live on,” Ahlstrom bit out angrily.
I stood and put my arm around her shoulders. “No, she won’t.” I couldn’t give her one-point-two-five billion dollars, but I knew Red enough to know she didn’t give a fuck about that.
Barrett put his pad back in his messenger bag and stood. “We’ll be in touch, gentlemen. Thank you for your time.”
Red reached into her purse and pulled out a small turquoise box.
I knew exactly what it was and exactly what fucking jewelry store it’d come from.
“This was never mine.” Red unceremoniously dumped the box on Ahlstrom’s lap. “If you’re smart, you’ll drop your lawsuit.” She turned to go.
I took two seconds to glare at the fucker, daring him to say shit, but like the pussy he was, he didn’t utter a word. Making a mental note to never buy Red a goddamn thing from that jewelry store, I ushered us the fuck out of there. We’d made it all the way to the elevator when DeMarco caught up with us.
“Montclair,” he barked.
I turned and leveled him with a stare. As far as I was concerned, the fucker was just as guilty as his stepfather for not setting shit straight with Red. “Tone,” I warned.
DeMarco took a breath and nodded. “I would like to have a word with you, Sienna.”
“Go ahead,” Red said, without a hint of distress in her voice, but her back was ramrod straight under my hand.
DeMarco’s shoulders sagged. “I never married or had kids. I spend all day with linebackers. I’m the first to admit I don’t know anything about women. That said, I should’ve approached the subject of your mother with you when you came to work for me. I apologize. I assumed you knew the circumstances.”
“I did not,” she said properly.
“I get that now.” He shook his head. “For whatever it’s worth, even if you had known, I’m not sure it would’ve made a hell of a difference. I knew Jed most of my life. He wasn’t just stubborn, he invented the word. He never forgave me, and I had no part in your mom running away. Can’t say I didn’t understand it though. Football is all I know, but if I didn’t have that, I would’ve walked away too.”
“Thank you for your thoughts.” She started to turn toward the elevator.
“One last thing.” He stopped her.
“Yes?”
“I know we’ve never been family, not in any traditional sense, but just so you know, I’ve got no stake in what you do with the team. The will provides me with my job for as long as I’m breathing, and that’s all I ever wanted. You want to sell the team, you got my blessing. Hell, if you want to keep working for me, you still got a job. You’re the best damn assistant I ever had.”
“Thank you, Ken.”
“You’re welcome.” He tipped his chin at me. “Take care of her.”
“Plan on it.”
DeMarco nodded and looked back at Red. “The funeral’s next Saturday, in case you want to attend. The other girls in the office have the details.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” DeMarco rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going back to read through the will.”
“Mr. DeMarco,” Barrett interjected. “May I suggest you have representation for yourself?”
DeMarco cocked his head and studied Barrett for a moment. “Anyone ever tell you that you look like Superman?”
“Frequently,” Barrett admitted.
DeMarco slapped Barrett on the shoulder. “Get some new glasses, son.”
Biting back a laugh, I hit the call button for the elevator. DeMarco went back to the conference room as the three of us stepped inside the elevator.
Red waited until the doors slid shut. “Mr. Barrett, I would like to sell the team.”
Barrett looked between us. “I feel like I’m missing somethi
ng.”
I filled him in. “Her mother and her grandmother died from Huntington’s.”
“Ah.” He scratched his chin. “Now I see.”
Red cleared her throat. “I would also like to be in an advisory role for the appropriation of the funds for research. Do you think you can make that happen?”
Barrett stared off into space like he did in the conference room. “I think I can make that happen. Are you willing to submit a statement on the details of Mr. Ahlstrom’s mistreatment of you?”
“He never laid a hand on me in anger.”
“I think a character assessment as to his mental state when he was threatening Mr. Brandt at the restaurant and at his house will suffice.”
“What are you getting at?” I asked.
Barrett smiled. “Leverage.”
“You got enough to make the lawsuit go away?” I didn’t think for one second that Ahlstrom would drop the suit simply because Red told him to.
His smile went wide. “I believe I do.”
The elevator stopped and the doors slid open to the garage level. Tyler stood outside the black Luna and Associates SUV he’d dropped us off in.
Barrett held his hand out. “Mr. Brandt.” We shook and he held his hand out to Red. “Miss Montclair.”
She looked up at him and smiled. “It’s Clark Kent, not Superman.”
“Yes, well.” He chuckled. “I can’t say I’ve ever represented a client who sold a professional football team to fund medical research. I’m feeling a bit like Superman right now to be honest, Miss Montclair.”
“Then maybe you should keep the glasses,” she said coyly.
The fucker grinned at her. “They are useful.”
I stepped between them. “Do something about the press.”
Barrett didn’t even flinch. “I will issue a press release confirming Miss Montclair’s relation to Mr. Burrows and leave everything else vague. But when the sale of the team goes through, I suspect she will receive a lot more attention.”
“I’ll handle that.”
Barrett nodded. “As you wish. I’ll be in touch.”
I ushered Red into the waiting SUV.
My heart pounding, my palms sweating, I silently chanted it over and over. I did the right thing. I did the right thing.
In a dark navy suit and perfectly pressed white dress shirt that was open at the neck, Jared slid effortlessly into the back seat beside me. “Talk to me, Red.”
Watching him get dressed this morning, knowing how rough around the edges he was, I’d never seen anything sexier than him putting on a suit. The fact that I could feel his release inside me had only intensified the moment. “I did the right thing.”
He glanced at Tyler. “Give us a moment.”
“Yes, sir.” Tyler got out of the vehicle.
Jared’s golden-brown gaze focused on me and his expression locked down. “Marry him. I’ll wait a year.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, I was taken aback. “You want me to marry him?”
“I want you to get what’s yours.”
“That team isn’t mine. It never was.” Doubt crept into the pit of my stomach.
“It’s yours more than anyone else’s.”
An ugly feeling spread through my veins. “You want me to sleep with him?” Because that’s what the terms of the will stated. Consummation.
His jaw ticked, but his expression didn’t waver. “I want you to get what’s yours,” he repeated.
Poisonous doubt, about him, about the team, about everything in my life filtered into my mind and took hold. “You want me to sell myself, is that it? You think because you sold your body that everyone has a price?” I regretted the words the second they left my mouth, but I couldn’t stop myself. “You see one-point-two-five billion dollars on the table and you’re willing to sell me to get it?”
His nostrils flared and his voice went low and controlled in warning. “Red.”
“No, don’t Red me. Don’t for one second think you get to dictate what I do with my body or who I do it with. And the fact that you would send me to someone who used me and cheated on me and was nothing more than a despicable opportunist just for a mess of zeroes tells me more than I ever wanted to know about you.” I grabbed the door handle.
He reached across me and his hand clamped down on my wrist. “I was offering this for you, goddamn it!”
“I don’t want the stupid team, I wanted my mother to live!” Traitorous tears welled. “But I don’t get that, do I? I don’t get a family. I don’t get a football team. I don’t even get a man who isn’t willing to sell me in one way or another! Now, let go.” I yanked my wrist.
He let go, but then both hands grabbed my face and his lips were on mine. His tongue swept once through my mouth and a sob broke free.
I hit his chest with both fists. “No.”
“Let it out, baby.” He spoke against my mouth. “Let it out.”
I hit him. Over and over. His chest, his arms, everywhere I could reach. I hit him and I sobbed. I sobbed because my mother was dead. I cried because my father lied to me. I was devastated because I’d never be a part of the family that’d belonged to me. Life was short and everything felt wasted.
His hands stroked my hair and my back. He held me and took the blows and never let go. He whispered over and over, “You’re okay, baby. You’re okay.”
But I wasn’t okay. I may never be okay. “You threw me away,” I accused. “You threw me away again!” And that hurt the most because he’d become more important to me than anything else in my life.
He pulled back just enough to look at me. “I had to offer, Sienna. You know that.”
I didn’t know that. “You didn’t offer. You commanded.”
“I’m not going to be your catalyst for regret. You get one chance at this. The annual income from owning that team over the years will exceed the current price on the table. You know that.”
I didn’t think about it that way, but it didn’t matter. “One-point-two-five billion dollars isn’t even real to me. That’s so much, it’s like cartoon money.”
“You could do a lot more than fund just one or two charities with it.”
The fight left me as I realized he was right. A hundred ideas swirled into my head, but it all boiled down to two things. Life was short. You didn’t get second chances. And no way was I going to give someone like Dan Ahlstrom what he wanted, no matter what it cost me. There wasn’t another choice. There never was. The moment I’d heard that the money would go into a trust fund for Huntington’s research, there was never any other choice. For that, I would sacrifice. Not for anything else.
Except for the man in front of me.
Because as I stared into his honest eyes and felt his strong hold on me, I finally understood what it took for him to offer me that.
“I’d never let you sleep with another woman for money.” I knew that’s what he’d done. I knew his past. But I didn’t mean that and I was hoping he understood my form of an apology.
“I know.”
“My decision was made the second I heard trust fund for Huntington’s.”
He stroked my face tenderly. “I had to make sure.”
I inhaled. “It felt like you were throwing me away.”
His nostrils flared. “I never would’ve let him touch you.”
I pointed out the obvious. “Then it all would’ve been for nothing because the will stated consummation.”
“I would’ve tortured him until he lied to the lawyers then I would’ve beaten the fuck out of him on principal.”
Completely inappropriately, I smiled. “You’re crazy.”
“No.” He shook his head once. “I’m in love.”
Three weeks later, we stood in Barrett’s all-white, modern-as-shit office as he set paperwork in front of each of us.
Barrett pointed at the pile in front of Red. “This is for the sale of the shares. I’ve highlighted everywhere you need to sign, and this is the contract for becoming an advis
or for the trust fund.”
“Thank you.” With a smile on her face, Red signed her rights to the team away.
I had to give Barrett credit. When he’d pointed out how much Burrows’s firm stood to make being trust fund advisors versus no guarantee of retainers if Red took over the team, they agreed to create a position for her.
I’d filed charges against Ahlstrom and the piece of shit did his best to fight them, but the prosecutor’s office apparently favored veterans over professional football players. When he wouldn’t drop the lawsuit, Barrett told his attorneys that Red would fight the ten-million-dollar clause, and he would walk away empty-handed. He caved. I think he knew from the get-go his chances of getting a piece of the team were slim to none. Burrows was just using him to get Red to do what he’d wanted, but just like her mother, Red was her own woman.
“Mr. Brandt, these papers release Mr. Ahlstrom of any further charges should any injuries or damages appear latently.”
I signed.
A few dozen signatures later, Red was done. She looked up at me with a sparkle in her eyes I’d never seen. “I did it,” she whispered.
Yeah, she did. “I’m fucking proud of you, baby.”
Heat hit her cheeks. “Do we get to celebrate now?”
My dick got hard. I’d told her the second she signed away the team, I was going to show her all the ways a man could take a woman. I’d fucking held out coming inside of her for three goddamn weeks. I hadn’t come in her pussy, and I hadn’t come in her mouth. And I’d never taken her ass. I was going to work her so fucking hard, she’d remember this day forever.
“Yes.” Barrett laughed. “You two go celebrate.”
The sexual tension between us was thick as hell. He probably wanted us out of his office before I took her right on his white fucking desk.
“Thanks, Barrett.” I barely spared him a glance before putting my hand on Red’s back.
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Barrett.”
“I’ll let you know if anything else comes up, but I don’t foresee anything. You two enjoy your day.”
Already walking Red out of his office, I guided her to the Mustang and held her hand as she got in the passenger side. The media had died down, but we’d also laid low for three weeks in my condo. Luna kept a detail on us, and we didn’t do shit but fuck and eat and walk the beach at night. I used the gym in the mornings before she got up, and she cooked food like a trained chef. I couldn’t have dreamed a better fucking life.
