“There’s no way my father would approve of that. You know what happened between him and Joan.”
“He and Joan didn’t have the history you and I do.” Bryce pointed at William. “You and I should have a kid that age. Your brother could have a playmate right now instead of Disney.” He put his hand back on the cushion between us, testing me.
This time I placed my hand on his. Two friends holding hands. He gripped my hand, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my skin, and the act was so intimate I considered pulling away from his touch. But I didn’t. For that moment, I wanted everything to be like it had been ten years ago. Maybe things would be different if I didn’t have William to consider. I could take the chance on Bryce and hope our relationship could remain a secret. With me being the owner now, it would be an expectation that I would be seen with the star player. All owners hung out with their star quarterbacks. But not all the league’s star quarterbacks were as hot as Bryce.
But then we’d be in a crowd, and we would bump shoulders. Or we would be caught on TV, on the sidelines gazing into each other’s eyes. That couldn’t happen. The minute the first report of us being more than boss and employee came out I would be fired, and he would go on playing the game he loved. Then someday, I would have to explain to William why I wasn’t in charge and trustees were.
“What do you think about this year’s team?” I asked, trying to break the silence.
“We added a couple of players. Good players who’ll make a difference on the field.” He looked at me. “One or two who’ll be a pain in the ass off the field.”
“Are you dropping a hint? Someone I should keep my eye on?” I smiled, thinking he was referring to himself. I certainly planned on keeping my eye on him.
“RJ Simpson,” he said. “Hell of a player but trouble otherwise. Stay away from him.”
Bryce’s foot nervously bounced up and down. That was when I realized he must have seen me talking to RJ at the training facility yesterday. As hot a man as Bryce was, he still had a jealous streak. Lovely. He was the guy in college all the girls dreamed about. Girls were known to leave their bras and panties outside his dorm, some signed some and left them hanging from trees, others at the outside base of his window. Guys were always jealous of him and never the other way around.
“He asked for a meeting,” I said. “Wants me to stop by his house tomorrow night for dinner. He has some ideas about how we can serve the community better. Didn’t seem to want to talk football.”
“And you believed that shit?” he asked. “Trying to get into your panties. That’s what he’s doing. The guy’s got history; you need to understand. He’ll screw anything with two legs.”
“He’s no different than you,” I said and immediately regretted it.
“Thanks, Mads. Fucking great.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, Bryce. Quit twisting everything I say.” I let go of his hand. “I meant because he’s an employee. I can’t be messing around with him either.”
“Oh, so if he wasn’t an employee or played for another team, you would?”
“There you go,” I said. “Twisting my words.”
“You going to his house?”
“I told him it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to meet privately in such a setting, as I’m the team owner, and he’s an employee, but he assured me his fiancée would be home, so yes, I’m going.”
“Simpson doesn’t have a fiancée, Mads. Don’t be so naïve.” Bryce looked at his watch and pretended to yawn, making a show of it. “I should get going. We’ve got the playbook review first thing in the morning,” he said, which I knew was a lie. The team had the day off.
“There’s nothing saying we can’t have a business dinner,” I said hurriedly. Yeah, I was approaching a line I knew better than to cross, but as long as we remained friendly and stayed away from the sexual, what was the harm? There would be no sleeping together. Strictly business. “You’re up for contract renewal, right?”
Bryce nodded. “The trustees are looking to get rid of salaries. They wanna stay away from the luxury tax and start rebuilding. They got their trophy, and now it's time to get their money.” He looked genuinely pissed. “You need to watch those three idiots.”
“I won’t let that happen,” I said. However, if Bryce played for a different team, all this would go away. We could date, have a real relationship, even get married and have kids. I shook the thoughts from my head.
“I’ll pick you up Monday evening. At six.” Bryce stood. “We’ll have dinner at the pier and talk about what’s next with my salary and my future with the team. He ruffled William’s hair as he said, “See ya, squirt.”
William kept his eyes on the TV, and I kept mine on Bryce, who never looked back. He left without giving me the opportunity to say no.
William left his spot on the floor and joined me on the couch, laying his head on my lap. “Are you and Bryce going to get married?” he asked. I started to say no, but then he followed with something that threw my mind for a loop. “Cause Daddy told Mommy before he died that you would.”
Flabbergasted, I couldn’t find the words to reply. I ran my hands through William’s hair, thinking about Bryce until he fell asleep.
I let William sleep on the couch because he said it was easier for him to stay asleep. Joan never put him in his own bed, and he’d become accustomed to being curled up on the couch with the TV going. She wasn’t a good mother let alone a good person. I knew what she was doing in her personal life. Yeah, what people did in their private lives was none of my business, but the way it affected my little brother was my business. I had two issues to deal with: not sleeping with Bryce, and figuring out how to get William away from Joan; though, I knew she didn’t want him anyway.
I closed my bedroom door, undressed and hopped in the shower. Bryce’s hand had felt perfect on mine. It created a flurry of memories that I managed to suppress and keep to myself. There were player parties at off-campus apartments. There were trips with other players and their girlfriends. But there were also times when it was just us. New Orleans had been my favorite. We partied in the French Quarter until nearly three in the morning, gathering beads and drinking. That night, the two of us returned to our hotel which overlooked Bourbon Street. We talked about growing old together, two college kids having no idea what life would throw at us.
We decided that one day we would be married on a beach in Fiji, just close friends and family. That night, we also talked about kids, a dog, and a big house we had planned to buy with his first contract, not with money from my father. He and my father got along well, but Bryce said he never allowed anyone to hold anything over his head. If we allowed my father, or anyone else, to do things for us, it would be used against us. I didn’t totally agree, but I never believed it would be an issue.
I moved beneath the warm spray and felt the onslaught of emotions rising from the pit of my stomach. My father, Prentiss Charles, was a great man and wonderful dad. He’d stayed in the hospital the last three nights of my mother’s life before she died of breast cancer. Her death had ripped his soul to shreds. Mine as well, but Dad had no clue how to survive without Mom. He quickly fell into a state of depression. At the time I had Bryce, and that eased my pain just enough to help me move forward. But Dad went home alone every night after work. Not even the Hurricane family could help ease his pain.
Then he met Joan, a younger woman who took advantage of Mom’s death and Dad’s kindness. Dad left her nearly twenty million, most of which she had already blown through. He also created a trust fund for William, solidifying William’s future. And, of course, I was set for life as well.
I poured a modest amount of soap over a shower puff and moved it along my arms, thoughts of Bryce once again rushing forward. Hot. Masculine. God-like. Charming. They all fit and made him the star he’d become. When I ran the puff over my breasts, I imagined his hands on me, touching, caressing, exploring. I’d only been with a couple of men since Bryce, but none knew a woman’s
body like Bryce did. I moved the puff between my legs and smiled, remembering our last night together. How happy we had been. How delicious the sex had been. I finished the shower, and myself, with thoughts of Bryce dancing through my mind.
The bedroom was dark and lonely, and as I crawled into bed, I decided what needed to be done. There was only one way to fix the problem.
CHAPTER SIX
Bryce
“There’s only one way to fix this,” Dad said in his gruff voice.
“Get her fired?” I replied. That wasn’t what he meant, but a lecture would follow. Everyone had advice on how to deal with Madison and her becoming my boss. She said so herself—our relationship would always be boss and employee. I didn’t like being her employee.
“Of course not,” he said. I could hear my mother in the background telling him to ask if I loved Madison, and if I did, I needed to tell Madison. “You need to be traded, son. Then you and Madison can have what you always wanted.” My mother was still trying to get a word in. Dad covered the phone and said something to her.
I held the phone away from my face and shook my head, repeating fuck, fuck, fuck in my mind. Why did I have to take the sword for our relationship? I’d won the championship last season with the Hurricanes, and we were going to be even better this year. “The team is set to repeat, Dad. Have you seen the receivers and tight-ends we added? Vegas has us as the hands-down favorite. I’m not leaving the team.”
“Bryce,” Mom said, taking the phone away from my father. “If you love that woman, then you need to be with her, and you need to give us grandchildren before your father’s too old to teach them baseball.”
Mom hated football. She’d followed the whole concussion controversy. Said they never should have let me play peewee football. She even suggested it had hurt my grades in school, getting knocked around all those years. My father told me to pay her no mind.
“Mom,” I said, struggling to make her stop talking. I held the phone away again and let her go on for several minutes. They had both sacrificed so much for me that I believed they had the right to give their opinions. Didn’t mean I would take their advice, but I loved them enough to listen.
Dad had spent twenty-eight years in a GE factory, working his ass off to provide for us. He and Madison’s father hit it off pretty well on the few occasions they met, neither man caring about the other’s station in life. Mom had visited Madison’s mother in the hospital the night before she died. Yeah, we could still be one big happy family if Madison allowed it.
“Take your time,” Dad said when he got back on the phone. “You still have a lot of years left, so do what works for your career. She’s a big girl. She’ll figure out what she needs to do without you helping her.”
“All right, guys, I need to look over the playbook. You have your flights booked for next week?”
“We do and look forward to seeing you,” Dad said. “Love you, son.”
“Love you, Bryceee,” Mom yelled, treating me as if I were still ten.
“Love you guys.” I ended the call and plopped down on the bed, exhausted from even a short conversation with my parents.
I stared at the ceiling, thinking about Madison and the situation we were in. Everyone, including her, thought the solution was for me to go to another team. But my love for the Hurricanes equaled hers. I earned them their first championship. Her father brought me there; she didn’t. I wasn’t leaving.
The only thing left to do was to get her fired. Plain and simple. How to do that? Easy. Sleep with her and have proof we did. Turn the proof over to the local papers, and she would be gone the next day.
I headed to the pool out back and drifted out onto the water on one of the floats I bought online. The damn thing had its own cooler. I cracked open a beer, dialed a number on my phone, and waited.
“Sicilione’s, how may I help you?” the voice on the other end asked. I recognized Mahlia’s voice right away. She was a cute Brazilian who’d come to the United States to chase the American dream. She treated people well, and in return, I treated her well.
“Hey, M, Bryce. Yeah, I’m good,” I said. She asked me about the reservation I needed. I told her a reservation for two, and then she transferred me to the hotel’s front desk. I reserved a room for two on Monday night—the penthouse suite. I also had them order a dozen roses and a bottle of expensive wine.
I ended the call just in time for Gus’ call. “Yeah, Gus.” I didn’t want to hear how terrible it was that he got demoted. The man had lived off the Charles’ for years. He should consider himself set for life.
“I’m calling about Madison,” he said. “I don’t want her to get hurt.”
“She’s a big girl now, Gus. She can take care of herself.”
“I know she can, but I also know she’s in love with you and liable to do something stupid. I want you to leave her be. She doesn’t need to lose what belongs to her and William.” He coughed uncontrollably, and that was when I first knew something else was wrong.
“You okay, Gus?”
“Yeah, sure. Don’t ruin it for her, Bryce.” He coughed again.
“She already ruined it for me. You know that. You know our history.” I wanted to reach through the phone and wring his neck. She walked away from me, yet I was the bad guy. People all around us had the situation backward.
“I’m telling you, this community loves her. You do anything to harm her and they’ll come after you with torches and pitchforks. I promise you. And I’ll lead the charge. Go to another team, Bryce. Ask for a trade. She’ll do it.” He coughed again. This time the cough lasted several seconds. “You’ll be just as successful with another franchise.”
“Gotta go, Gus. You need to worry about you and whatever’s causing your cough.”
I ended the call and moved back to the steps leading into the pool. Big fucking house and nobody to share it with. Gus needed to mind his own damn business. He needed to worry about football, not Madison.
In the house, I sat at the desk in the den and opened the drawer on my right. The three tiny cameras were no bigger than a pair of dice. Once set, each camera would start taking up to 300 pictures in a two-hour time span with a simple touch of an icon on my phone. Recording a video of us in bed together seemed trashy. Pictures would do the trick.
The tricky part would be getting her up to the room. Dinner appeared to be easy. Talk business. Then over dessert, I’d turn on the charm. Hold her hand and tell her how beautiful she looked. That would not be a lie. Madison’s blonde hair was a shade darker but beautiful, nonetheless. Her eyes still sparkled but not with as much happiness as they had back in college. She had not only kept her figure, but she obviously worked out several times a week. Her intelligence spoke for itself. She had the degrees to prove it.
You’re talking yourself out of it, Bryce. Just remember who gets the boot if you don’t follow through. You, buddy. You earned the team a championship, not her.
I watched game film for several hours, but my mind kept going back to Madison. Part of me did feel bad for what I thought I had to do. But then seducing her and possibly making love to her once more far outweighed the guilt I felt. Maybe.
At nearly midnight, I turned off the TV, took a shower, and headed to bed, struggling to sleep. Then the phone rang.
Of course Madison had no idea I had taken her picture yesterday and made it her contact picture on my phone, so when her face showed up, I smiled.
“This’s Bryce,” I said.
“Hope you weren’t sleeping,” Madison said.
“It’s midnight, Mads. You think I was up partying on a Sunday night?”
“Not at all, but I’m glad you’re up. About dinner tomorrow night. Don’t do anything extravagant. Maybe somewhere nice, where there are other people.” Her voice sounded unsure.
“I’m taking you to Sicilione. Already have reservations, so there’s no changing it. Like we said, all business.” She enjoyed making things harder than they should be. “What else, Mads. That�
��s not the only reason you called. Or are you thinking of walking out on me again?”
“No matter how many times you say it or bring it up, Bryce, I can’t change what I did. When are you finally going to accept that I had to?” She sighed, and I knew I’d hurt her feelings.
“I don’t have an answer, Mads.” I took a deep breath and calmed the building anger. I didn’t want to explode on her and make things worse.
“If you bring it up tomorrow night, I’ll just leave.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “But I know you’re hiding your real feelings. You can deny it all you want. But I see it. It’s in your eyes. It’s in the way you talk to me.”
“That’s pretty arrogant, Bryce.”
“No, it’s just the truth. I can handle the truth, Mads. Can you?”
“Okay,” I said. “I get it. I do. As far as tomorrow night goes, I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow night, Bryce.”
I laid my phone on the nightstand, beside me. Tomorrow I would put an end to it all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Madison
I stopped at Starbucks and then headed to Cocoa Beach. The beach always settled my mind when something had me down or worried. Having dinner with Bryce was a dangerous thing to do. Not in the sense he would harm me, but in the sense that I didn’t trust myself to keep my hands off him. That would be entirely too much to ask.
I was going to be a little late to work, but pre-season training didn’t actually start until next week. The players who had shown up last week were there for voluntary workouts. They were the go-getters, the players who wanted to improve their skill. They were driven, determined, goal-oriented—like me. They understood what it was like to work hard to get to the top of their professions.
But there were those players who risked their professions on things they did in their personal lives. Some did drugs, some drank; some partied too much. Some risked their jobs on relationships.
Inheritance Goals: A Sports Romance Page 5
