Sinker: Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Colleen Charles

  “Oh, you know,” I said, throwing a hand in the air because I had no damn idea what to say to this woman. “Same old, same old.”

  Brenna cocked her head to the side and blushed, looking adorable with her thick, chestnut hair piled into a messy knot on top of her head.

  “I’m sorry,” Brenna said and offered an embarrassed laugh. “I know I should know who you are, but…”

  I chuckled, battling through my nerves. “I’m Rhett. Rhett Bradshaw. And you know, we…” I trailed off, rethinking my strategy. At first, I’d thought it would be a good idea to waltz in and spell out our history in bold, black letters. But seeing Brenna address me like a stranger intoxicated me in a feral way. A do-over where I could charm her pants off. I’d be an idiot to let that go.

  “What?” Brenna asked. “What were you about to say?”

  “Nothing,” I said, stopping myself before I ruined the moment. I grinned. “Just wanted to see how you’re doing. The doctors said you should be fine soon. How’s that head?”

  Brenna laughed again. “It hurts,” she admitted. “But I’m doing okay.” Her smile hit me hard in the solar plexus. She’d never given me her whole smile before, and I couldn’t believe how it made her look. Radiant and glowing as if the entire world were at her fingertips. “It’s nice to see you again. We met at the field, didn’t we?”

  Even though it was wrong, curiosity won the day. I just had to see what would happen if Brenna suddenly forgot about our…well, shall I say, our not-so-cordial relationship.

  “Yeah,” I said after a long pause. “I was there as you were being taken to the hospital.”

  Brenna nodded, looking satisfied. “Good,” she said, sighing and flopping against the pillows. A flowery, almost musky scent wafted under my nostrils, and against my will, my cock twitched in my pants. I wanted to crawl into her hospital bed and kiss her senseless, so she’d never remember how she really felt about me.

  I stared at her as an idea began to take form. Maybe if I could create some goodwill now, our relationship wouldn’t go back to being as bad as it was before she got nailed with my ball.

  Was that even possible? Was it worth finding out?

  “It feels good to remember things. I’ve been struggling ever since the accident.”

  “I bet.” Conflict battled within my head like I had an angel and a devil on each shoulder – lying was never a wise choice with a woman. But I couldn’t deny that despite her condition, I was attracted to Brenna and more than a little interested in seeing where this idea could go. The loose hospital gown she wore couldn’t conceal her petite curves, and when I realized that her nipples were hard, my cock flickered to life again, straining against my zipper.

  I’ll just fuck her once and get her out of my system, I decided. No harm, no foul. If she finds out who I am, well, whatever…it’s bound to happen eventually. But in the meantime…

  “It’s so nice to have a visitor that isn’t another reporter,” Brenna said. She smiled at me, showing off pearly teeth. I could get lost in that smile now that I’d experienced it. “This place gets really boring. I wish they’d let me go home – I know I don’t need to be here.” She cringed. “And I’m about to die for a shower.”

  I raised an eyebrow and gave her a lazy grin. “I could always give you a sponge bath. I’ve been told I’m really good at playing nurse.”

  Brenna blushed the most beautiful shade of newly fucked pink. “I don’t think–”

  The swinging of the door to her room interrupted her just when our conversation had been getting good. Riley Buxton, Brenna’s co-worker, walked in, her high ponytail bouncing behind her. An unflattering maxi dress hung from her trim figure. When she saw me, she gaped. I smiled and waited for her to throw me straight under the bus.

  “Hello,” Riley said. She eyed me from head to toe, making no secret of the fact that she was enjoying every second of my discomfort. “How are you, Rhett?”

  “Great,” I said and winked at Brenna. “I was actually just leaving. Brenna, I’m sincerely glad to hear you’re doing better.”

  Brenna looked stricken. “No,” she said in a rush. “Please don’t go. You just got here.” The desperation in her voice tickled my ears and every other cell in my body.

  I know she wants me. If only Riley hadn’t waltzed in here at the worse time possible, I could have done something about it.

  “Yeah, Rhett,” Riley echoed, her smug smile like a beacon of triumph lighting the dim room. “Why are you leaving?” She raised her eyebrows, and I stared into her brown eyes. Riley smirked again, and something about her beady eyes reminded me of a weasel.

  “Gotta run,” I said. “I’ve got to get to the field soon.”

  “Well, bye, then,” Brenna said, disappointment settling into her expression. “Will I see you again?”

  Gotcha.

  “Of course,” I said, grinning my panty-melting smile. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll call you, Brenna. Bye, Riley.”

  Turning on my heel, I walked out of the room feeling better about myself than I had in at least twenty-four hours.

  “Rhett! Rhett, wait!”

  I groaned and turned around in the hall, only to see Riley trotting toward me, a devilish gleam in her eye that put me on warning.

  “So,” Riley said, crossing her arms over her chest and smirking. “Why so quick to leave, huh? Brenna sure seemed to want you there. Knowing you, that’s an opportunity you’re not going to let pass. Think how much offering Brenna an olive branch during this difficult time would raise your credibility with the press.”

  “Yeah,” I clipped out, wanting to flee the censuring glare of this snotty woman. “She did want me to stay, didn’t she?”

  “So,” Riley repeated, raising her eyebrows. “Why didn’t you tell her about your, ahem, past? You know – the whole part where you two are mortal enemies?”

  Fuck.

  “Just like you suggested. I want a second chance,” I said with a lift of my shoulder. “You know. A do-over. A chance to make things a little easier between us. I’m not leaving the Yankees, and she’s not leaving Sport Taste. There’s no reason not to get along. If something good can come out of a bad situation, why wouldn’t we all be satisfied with that?”

  “Right,” Riley said, snapping her fingers a few times. I wanted to reach out, grab her annoying digits and crack them in half. “You think it’s that easy to make Brenna stop writing shit about you and trashing your reputation? It’ll take more than a five-minute hospital visit and a flash of your charming smile.”

  I grimaced. It had sounded like a great plan moments ago when it was roiling through my brain, but now, on Riley’s lips, not so much. “Not exactly,” I said. “More of…well, you know. A fair chance for us to be friends.”

  To my utter shock, Riley nodded and wrinkled up her pert nose. “That might be for the best,” she admitted. “What if I agreed to help?”

  I frowned, unclear as to her motives. Any journalist with good instincts would be all over this. What in the hell was in it for her to hold off on the big reveal. “Why would you do something like that?”

  “Because I’m only a junior reporter, and I’m dying for more work,” Riley said in an annoyed huff as if I were addled. She sighed like a moody teenager and pointed in the direction of Brenna’s room. “And if I…help you, you know, then maybe I could write about you in the future. You could give me an exclusive interview in exchange. I bet that would help me get my own career on the right path, or at least take me out of the shadow of her highness.”

  I raised my eyebrows, picturing me on the other end of Joe Buck’s hard-hitting questions. “What kind of exclusive?”

  Riley shrugged. “The idea just came to me, but I promise it’ll be more…flattering than what Brenna’s written. Like, maybe we could do a thing where you go to a charity and help out, and then I write a piece about it?” She nodded, eyes sparkling at the sound of her own idea.

  I thought about it because I knew I had to
make a split decision. I honestly didn’t love the idea of working with Riley to deceive Brenna, something about the younger woman seemed off. But hadn’t I been just about to fuck with her on my own, anyway? What harm could it do if Riley helped me? Any little bit of positive PR would get me out of Don’s doghouse. And a little retribution never hurt.

  Just then, Elaine’s words crashed back to me: “You’re not a loose cannon at all!” She was right – I usually wasn’t. But if the papers got wind of me playing like a rookie, it would hurt the reputation of the entire team, and the front office might think I looked good for a trade, no matter how hard I threw the damn ball.

  I blew out a breath. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll take the deal.”

  Riley grinned and held out her tiny hand for me to shake.

  A good deal. So why did I feel like I’d just handed over my firstborn to the devil?

  Chapter Five

  Brenna

  “I can’t believe he left already. He just got here,” I told Riley. “We were just talking about something other than my memory loss, and I felt almost…normal.”

  “You’re probably losing your sense of time,” Riley said. She flopped down into the chair. “And besides, you already forgot me. Didn’t you?”

  I shook my head. “Definitely not,” I told her. “My memory is just getting stronger and stronger. You’re Riley – we work together.”

  Riley nodded. “That’s right. And do you know why I’m here today?”

  I shook my head again.

  “I’m taking you home.” She stood up and grinned. “You’re finally sprung. Come on, aren’t you excited?”

  I nodded, joy rushing through my chest as I clutched the blankets. There was nothing I wanted more than to be back in my own apartment…not that I could recall the particulars, but it had to be better than the sterile hospital room. I felt dirty, and I knew my hair resembled a snarled rat’s nest – they hadn’t let me take a real shower since I was admitted yesterday.

  After a flurry with the on-call neurologist, a nurse, and the woman working the discharge station, Riley wheeled me out of the hospital and into the blinding sunlight. Being outside felt kind of surreal. I knew that I should remember exactly where I was, but the images flashing through my brain remained fuzzy.

  Riley had called for a cab, and the two of us rode into Flatbush, Brooklyn. When the cab stopped, I stepped out, dazzled.

  “Do I really live here?” I asked Riley in a quiet voice after the cab pulled away. “I like it.”

  Riley laughed. “It’s rent-controlled, so you’d better hope it stays that way or you’ll be moving to Queens.”

  I nodded like I knew exactly what she was talking about. As we rode the creaky elevator up to the eleventh floor, I had a sense that I’d been here before. Instead of making me feel comforted, though, it just made me feel a little creeped out. The neurologist had assured me my long-term memory would return bit by bit but not knowing my own home and neighborhood just filled my gut with dread.

  “Come on, Champ,” Riley said. “This way.” I followed her down a narrow hallway. She stopped in front of a door, and I nodded, figuring this must be where I lived.

  “I got your keys from your bag,” Riley said. “Here.” She pressed a jumble of metal and plastic into my hand. Frowning, I stared down at the keys.

  “Um, I don’t know which…”

  Riley groaned in exasperation but started sorting through the mass of metal. “Let me see if I can figure it out.” Selecting one with a purple plastic head, she slid it into the lock, turned the doorknob and pushed.

  After trailing behind her a few feet, I stopped and hissed in a breath. The apartment – my apartment? – was beautiful. It featured high ceilings, wall-to-ceiling windows, and lots of natural light.

  And a hot mess.

  “God, I’m such a slob,” I groaned, picking my way through the clutter. “Don’t I have a cleaning service or something?”

  Riley burst out laughing. “On your salary at Sport Taste? I doubt it. Nice try though.”

  I frowned. Something about the way she teased about my memory loss bothered me because it bordered on ridicule, but I didn’t want to make a big deal of it. Somehow, I knew that I had a tendency to blow things out of proportion. Flashes of my mom pointing at me and labeling me as sensitive rushed back. Riley seemed like one of my only friends in the world due to her constant presence, and I didn’t want to do anything that risked alienating her, leaving myself alone and confused within a dangerous city.

  “Hey, come here,” Riley said. She held up a metal-framed photo. “Do you remember these people?”

  The picture showed an older couple, sitting on a brick stoop. The woman had a giant bush of frizzy red hair that hung around her head like a messy halo. The man was wearing a checkered shirt and worn jeans with dirty sneakers. They both looked incredibly happy – they weren’t really smiling, but there was a knowing look on both of their faces.

  “Yeah,” I said after a moment, holding the photo close to my face and staring at it. “These are my parents.” I grew wistful. I wish they were here, but they were on an Alaskan cruise for their thirty-fifth anniversary. Not that I remembered where they were, but I’d found the note in my calendar. They wouldn’t be back for nine more days and I didn’t want to bother them since I was apparently not dying or anything horrible like that.

  Riley nodded. “Good girl,” she said and set the photo down on the table. “What about her?” Riley grabbed another photo and handed it over.

  This time, I had to stare for a little longer. The woman in the photo was pretty, but she looked self-conscious but very happy. She had long, glossy chestnut hair, but it was tied back in a bun at the nape of her neck. Frantic tendrils escaped and blossomed around her face like golden vines. She wore a black robe and clutched a framed piece of paper.

  “Um,” I said slowly. “I think it’s me.”

  “Right again!” Riley cheered. “On the day you graduated with honors with your bachelor’s in journalism from Columbia.”

  I nodded, feeling more confident. “Gosh, I look awkward,” I said. “Am I awkward, Riley?”

  Riley chuckled. “Nah, you were just nervous that day or so you’ve told me,” she said. “You grew into your looks. See, I’ll show you.” Taking my hand, she pulled me down a long hallway and into a fabulous bathroom with a walk-in shower, a bidet, and a skylight.

  When I looked in the mirror, I groaned. My hair was piled into a messy bun on the top of my head but looked like it needed a good washing and combing. A huge bruise overtook my facial features and gave me a zombie-like appearance coupled with my alabaster skin. And my bright emerald eyes, which had been flashing vibrancy and joy in the graduation photo, looked flat and devoid of expression.

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Riley said, pulling me backward. “But you’re normally really pretty. Trust me,” she added. “I wouldn’t lie to you. Men are constantly cat calling and clamoring to get in your space.”

  I shut my eyes against my distressing appearance. “I’m sure you wouldn’t.” At least I didn’t think she would lie. I glanced at her smirk and wasn’t sure.

  Together, we walked back down the hall. I sat on a suede couch in the living room and relaxed, tucking my feet up underneath my body.

  “Hey…” I sat up straighter, noticing an issue of Sport Taste on the coffee table – the magazine I now knew I worked for. “I want to see that.”

  “No,” Riley clipped out, snatching it up. “No, you don’t.” She rolled it into a tube and shoved it in her bag. “Remember, Brenna? You hate reading your published work. You told me that before. Hell, you’ve told everyone.”

  “I do?” I narrowed my eyes. “That doesn’t seem like something I would say.” And it didn’t.

  Riley laughed. “Don’t worry. You’re just confused. You’ll remember soon. You have a lot of idiosyncrasies.”

  I frowned. I really didn’t like the way she kept making light of my injury. An
d me. It didn’t seem fair.

  “Right.” I lifted a shoulder. “Anyway, I can’t believe Rhett Bradshaw came to see me.” I couldn’t help smiling at the way his name tasted falling from my lips. Just thinking about him made me feel flushed and hot. And, oh god…I brought my hands to my snarled hair and grimaced. After the way I looked today, I’d be lucky if I ever saw him again.

  I buried my face in my hands.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Riley sat down next to me and put her hand on my shoulder. “Brenna, what happened? Is everything okay?”

  “He came to see me today, and I look so horrible.” I moaned, still not lifting my face. “I can’t believe how ghostly I look right now. Like an extra for Night of the Living Dead.”

  Riley shook her head. “You look fine,” she insisted. “And besides, I mean, he wasn’t exactly expecting you to look like a runway model after what you’ve been through. You were in the hospital with a concussion, for God’s sake.”

  I sighed. Even though her supportive words rang true, they didn’t exactly make me feel any better about the horrific bruising on my face.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled. “I guess you’re right.”

  “I know I’m right,” Riley crowed. “I’m Riley Buxton, after all.”

  I blinked. Had she always been this snotty and annoying? I couldn’t imagine that I’d brought this type of woman into my inner circle and called her my friend. Immediately after thinking that, I felt wracked with guilt. There was no reason for me to be so snarky about Riley. She was my co-worker, after all. And judging by the way she took control, we were very, very close friends. Her redeeming qualities would come out. They had to.

  “He came to the hospital because he wanted to see you,” Riley said. She grinned a knowing smile. “That means he likes you.”

  “I don’t think so.” I frowned, trying to make sense of it. “I mean, why would he go through the trouble except to make sure I was okay after getting hit by the ball he’d thrown? That must mean he’s a really nice guy, right?” I looked at Riley expectantly. She bit her lower lip, but nodded. “Besides, he’s a gorgeous professional athlete. What the hell does he want with me when he has to have spectacular women falling at his feet all over NYC?”