Sinker: Alpha Billionaire Romance

by Colleen Charles

  It was just for fun, right?

  After taking a deep breath to fortify myself, I looked back down at the page.

  “Ms. Miller declined to reveal anything else about that fateful night at Rick’s Cabaret, so I went in search of someone who also knew Rhett intimately – Carrie Sellers, his former agent.

  Ms. Sellers, a well-respected member of the New York City public relations industry, also had mixed things to say about Bradshaw.

  “I can’t deny that he’s a great player,” she says, nodding her curly head. “But his behavior was…well, sometimes more than a little problematic.”

  When asked to clarify, Ms. Sellers demurred at first.

  “I wouldn’t say he was malicious,” she says slowly, obviously being careful about her word choice. “But there was a side of him, a very manipulative side, which led to more than one potential lawsuit that I had to defend against. For instance, one night Rhett and his teammates went out to celebrate a big win. I got a call in the morning from Rhett, saying that he’d gotten a girl in trouble – an eighteen-year-old girl – and that he’d need some petty cash to ‘take care of things.’ I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant – he never clarified – but after I sent the money, I never heard about it again.”

  Ms. Sellers is now representing another Yankees pitcher, Jeremy O’Connell. O’Connell, twenty-four, is a shining star in his own right.

  “It kills me to say this,” Ms. Sellers says with an ironic smile. “But I can see Rhett getting away with a lot of bad behavior. He’s just so charming…everyone loves him, no matter what he says or does. He’s just got that IT factor.” She shrugs. “My final comments are clear. If he doesn’t clean up his act, he’s going to wind up at the forefront of a very, very expensive sexual harassment lawsuit.”

  Hot, acrid bile rose in my throat, and I leapt from the conference table and ran down the hall and into the bathroom. I barely made it to a stall before projectile vomiting through my hands and all over the porcelain toilet. Tears streamed down my cheeks, and my stomach felt like it was waging war on my body as I heaved again and again.

  I felt like I would never stop throwing up. By the time I actually did, my face burned hot with illness and disbelief. My skin felt coarse, like a paper towel, and I sobbed as I laid my cheek against the seat of the toilet. I couldn’t believe what I’d just read.

  Who was the real Rhett Bradshaw, and why had no one told me how I truly felt about him? I couldn’t understand it – I’d obviously hated him. So why had he tried so hard to win me over after my injury?

  And why the hell had Riley gone along with it? I sobbed even harder as her betrayal sank into my veins like poison. Everyone in my life was out to get me, I thought as panic crested over my head. I can’t trust anyone. Maybe I can’t even trust my own family.

  The bathroom door burst open. I froze as I heard Riley’s voice, chirping in a sing-song tone as her heels clacked across the floor. When I realized she was with Nina, our editor, my blood ran cold.

  “I’m telling you, Nina, I wouldn’t lie about this,” Riley said. I heard her sigh, then a gush of tap water into one of the sinks.

  “I never accused you of lying,” Nina said, her annoyed tone measured. “But all of this seems so out of character.”

  “Trust me,” Riley said, that special smugness lacing her voice that only she could muster. “I have evidence. I’ll show you when we get back to the office – Brenna and Rhett have been dating in secret. It’s going to be the story of the decade.”

  My heart skipped a beat, and I crouched closer to the toilet, hoping neither Riley nor Nina would notice my shoes poking out from the edge of the stall. Their chatter moved to another subject, and soon the buzzing in my ears became too loud for me to hear their actual words.

  As soon as Riley and Nina had left the bathroom, I bolted up from the toilet and washed my hands and face as best I could. When I was done, my cheeks still flamed red, and I longed for a glass of water, but I knew I had to defend myself.

  When I walked back into the Sport Taste offices, all eyes landed on me. Everyone I passed couldn’t stop staring at me.

  “You all look like a bunch of deer in the headlights,” I muttered sarcastically under my breath as I made my way to Nina’s office, heart thudding. “Stop staring at me.”

  Just as I feared, Riley already sat in Nina’s office, spreading photos all over the desk.

  “This was taken at the Banks party after they lost at the hands of Rhett’s ineptitude,” Riley said with smug satisfaction, pointing down to a photo of Rhett and me. I gasped when I saw his arm around my shoulders as I looked tenderly into his bright blue eyes.

  “Brenna,” Nina said. “I just called your desk. Please, have a seat.”

  Riley’s face showed no remorse as I pushed past her and sat down.

  “Nina, look, before you get started–”

  Nina held up a hand. Her eyes blazed with anger and fire. I couldn’t remember being this scared before, but I sat up as straight as I could and tried to stay calm. I’d done nothing wrong. The truth would prevail. It had to.

  “Brenna, Riley tells me that you and Rhett have been dating in secret,” Nina said. She frowned, shaking her head. “I didn’t want to believe it – I thought I knew you, Brenna. I thought I could trust you.”

  “You can trust me!” I cried.

  Nina held up a hand in the air. “No,” she clipped out. “Let me finish. I didn’t want to believe Riley, but she’s shown me evidence that I can’t ignore.” Her face twisted into an ugly grin as she picked up a stack of photographs and handed them over.

  The feeling in the pit of my stomach went from bad to worse as I flipped through the photos. Rhett kissing me, pulling my body against his muscular bulk. There was a photo of me doubled up in laughter at something Rhett had said, a smirk etched on his golden features. And there at the end and the most damning, was a picture of Rhett holding my hand. My eyes were closed, and my head rested on his sculpted shoulder. I looked content and happy...two things I could never imagine feeling again.

  “I told you,” Riley said in a know-it-all voice. She looked at me and cocked her head to the side, smiling a grin that didn’t even come close to reaching her dead eyes. “Brenna and Rhett have been dating hot and heavy for months. It was Brenna’s idea – she needed to cover her own ass.”

  Nina sighed. “I can’t believe this,” she said. “This level of betrayal – right under my nose. Brenna, I’ve never seen such a level of unprofessional behavior.” She closed her eyes in a blatant show of the theatrics.

  “All of those hit pieces on Rhett, they were all faked,” Riley said. She pointed a finger at me accusingly. “Brenna told Rhett that his career would be helped if the press thought he was a bad boy. She did it all to further her own career. And his. If this gets found out, Nina. Well, I hope you know that there could be an investigation into the false reporting. Sport Taste could get shut down. Or worse.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. I was living my worst nightmare, but I couldn’t wake up. My breath came in shallow pants as the tension in my chest increased, spiderwebbing throughout my entire body. My fingers and toes tingled like I had frostbite.

  “I am so disappointed in you, Brenna,” Nina said. She glared at me for a moment, then grabbed the pictures from my shaking hands and threw them on her desk. “This is the worst example of unethical behavior I’ve ever seen in a journalist. It’s going to cost you your job, and I surely hope it doesn’t cost you your freedom. Journalists have gone to prison for things not even close to being this bad.”

  “I don’t know anything about those!” I said, my anger causing me to point at the offensive photos. “I had no idea they were even being taken in the first place!”

  “Well,” Riley said and crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s easy, then. Just tell us how you felt about Rhett before the accident.”

  “I…” I trailed off, biting my lip.

  “Yes, please,” Nina said sarcastically
. “Tell me how I could have possibly gotten this all wrong, Brenna.”

  “I don’t know,” I said unable to disguise my underlying pain and sadness. I hung my head. “I…I still can’t remember.”

  Nina inhaled sharply. “How convenient. Then I have no choice. You’re suspended from Sport Taste indefinitely, without pay.”

  “What?” I gasped. My jaw dropped. “Nina, you wouldn’t!”

  “No, Brenna,” Nina said. “You wouldn’t do this. The Brenna I knew wouldn’t do anything this…this unethical! You’ve put the reputation of the entire magazine on the line! All for personal gain!” She shook her head in disgust as she speared me with a look I’d never seen before and never wanted to see again. “Go. Now. I never want to lay eyes on you again.”

  “Nina, please–” I blinked and focused on Nina’s computer screen. On it was the home page for Sport Taste. I blinked again. “We have a website?”

  Nina looked at me as if I were totally crazy. “Of course we have a website. No descent news source wouldn’t.”

  Still gaping, I looked at Riley, who only lifted a shoulder, that smug smile still firmly in place.

  “You lied to me.”

  Riley rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I–”

  “Go,” Nina interrupted, her eyes growing sad. “Brenna, just go before I’m forced to call the authorities and have you removed from the property as a trespasser.”

  “Yeah, Brenna,” Riley added. She pursed her lips as if she wanted to blow me a kiss goodbye. “You should just go. You’re not welcome here.”

  I’d never felt more ashamed, angry, or betrayed in my entire life. And that, I knew for certain.

  Chapter Twenty

  Brenna

  Misery dogged every single step as I made my way back home. I felt like a bruised puppy with my tail between my legs. I couldn’t even face the subway, and I called for a cab despite the knowledge that my bank account would soon be almost empty. And my glorious apartment. I’d lose that too. My battered heart simply couldn’t take anymore.

  Angry questions bombarded my every thought. With each passing second, I only grew angrier that Riley and Rhett had obviously deceived me. What had happened? Had they been working together to pull off some kind of warped scheme? I understood what that meant for Riley, but not for Rhett. Then it hit me. I’d just been another notch in his already whittled bedpost. Even more than that. It was the perfect way for him to seek revenge on me after I’d clearly done my best to smudge his well-deserved reputation.

  My heart sank even deeper into despair. Sure, I had found Riley a little annoying and overbearing at times. But she’d acted like we were best friends. She’d gone out of her way to try to help me. The saliva in my mouth turned to acid as I remembered the phony little way she’d offered to help me at Sport Taste. She was probably angling to help her own career the whole time.

  Once I arrived home, I grabbed my computer and a big glass of wine before settling on the couch. I went to the Sport Taste website, ignoring the sinking feeling in my chest that I’d never work for them again. That didn’t matter at the moment – all that mattered was finding out the truth, and learning why I’d been so cruelly tricked by the two people I’d grown to trust more than anyone else in the world. And then seeing if I had any legal recourse against any of it.

  But when I typed the website in the browser, I got a message that said I was blocked. I stared at the screen, remembering the day Riley was going to bookmark sites for me. Narrowing my eyes, I found the place in settings that showed which websites were blocked from my view, and yes, Sports Taste was one of them. There were a number of other sites too, and when I clicked on them, I discovered they were all pages about Rhett.

  I felt sick.

  The nausea returned as I skimmed through the short video interviews. There was one titled: Brenna Sinclair on the Yankees. Nervously, I clicked on it and waited for it to load.

  Seeing myself on screen shot a new kind of pain throughout my aching body. I looked happy and confident as I sat behind a desk wearing a teal sweater with my hair piled on the top of my head in my signature work bun. As the video loaded, I took a big drink of wine.

  Seconds later, the tinny sound of my voice filled the apartment.

  “Hi, there! This is Brenna Sinclair, reporting for Sport Taste.”

  “Hello, Brenna.” The screen split to show a blonde anchorwoman. After a few seconds, I recognized her as Casey Taylor, one of New York’s most popular female television hosts.

  I smiled politely on screen. “Hi, Casey. Beautiful weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

  Casey smiled a megawatt smile. “Yes, it is,” she purred. “And you just got back from the first Yankees game of the year. Tell me all about it,” she said with a saucy wink. “Especially about that dreamboat pitcher, Rhett Bradshaw!”

  Brenna-on-screen winced. “Well, Casey, I have to say – he’s not exactly in prime pitching mode. Not yet at least. He hasn’t hit his spring stride.”

  “I bet all that training will pay off before us New Yorkers can say Yankees!”

  “Hopefully so,” I said, tossing my head.

  “Can you tell me about the game, Brenna? What kind of advantages do the Yankees have right now…and where do you think they’ll wind up this season?”

  On screen, I smiled and laughed. “Well, Casey, I’ve been reporting on the Yankees for about two years now – and Rhett Bradshaw is surely a big part of the Yankees presence. I can say with confidence that if Bradshaw has his way, they’re aiming to be undefeated.”

  Casey made a show of whistling. “Wow, that’s really something. Not possible, statistically. But it really speaks to the confidence within the team.”

  “It is,” I said. “But that’s only gonna happen if Bradshaw pulls his head out of his ass and knocks off his out of control partying for a while.”

  Casey smiled, but to new Brenna, it seemed patronizing. Old Brenna didn’t bat an eyelash. A flash of dislike crossed my brain, and suddenly a memory appeared – the two of us, at a bar, with Casey using her cleavage and smiles for free drinks and attention. She’s a silly bimbo, I thought to myself as I narrowed my eyes at the screen. And I didn’t like her before my accident.

  My heart fluttered under the excitement of my first real memory from my recent past.

  “Well, I’m sure he does exactly what any guy in his situation would do,” Casey said. She smiled again – this time, it dripped condescension.

  “I’ve studied Bradshaw for a long time,” television Brenna said. “And he’s a great pitcher, but he’s got a few tricks up his sleeve that are pretty easy to see if you spend enough time watching.”

  Casey raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Like, every time he throws a sinker to a fastball hitter, it ends up a hard foul into the dugout or the stands.” Television Brenna smiled as if she’d just given away a serious baseball revelation. “He’s used that trick many a time.”

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t like you disclosing his trade secrets,” Casey said, pretending to admonish me. “You’re killing the mystery of the game.”

  “For a baseball lover like me, there is no mystery,” she said. “That’s my job, after all – reveal the secrets of the stars, and figure everything out like it’s a science. The truth will set you free, Casey.”

  Casey smiled tightly. “Tell me about his other pitches, then.”

  I laughed in unison with my on-screen doppelganger. “Haven’t got them all figured out yet, Casey. Just a few.” TV Brenna winked at the camera, and I felt a flutter of pride. Old me had handled this interview with aplomb and class, sticking to the facts but still letting my personality shine without any personal vendetta. “And it would be a disservice to reveal all of Bradshaw’s secrets. I’m a Yankees fan tried and true until the bitter end. I’ll always do what’s best for the team.”

  “You certainly had no problem revealing the Intel about the Sinker,” Casey said. “So, B
renna Sinclair, what do you think of this?” Casey smirked and held up a tabloid photo. It showed Rhett from behind, with his pants around his ankles and his bare ass glowing in the dim light. He had a woman pressed up against a brick wall while he pummeled her, her legs wrapped around his waist. A discarded Yankees’ cap lay on the ground beside them.

  TV Brenna smiled as if she’d just been given the keys to the kingdom. “Interesting, Casey. I guess I believe every New Yorker has a right to know what kind of dog they’re rooting for.”

  Casey whistled. “And you certainly don’t waste any time, do you?” She smiled brightly at the camera. “Reporting from KPMT, this has been Casey Taylor with special guest, Brenna Sinclair.”

  The video window faded to grey, and I sat silently on the couch, sipping my wine. Watching myself on camera had been like an instant flashback – I could remember that interview exactly, almost like it happened yesterday. Every detail in vivid color. I even remembered going back to the office – Nina had warned me to stay away from tabloid speculation, but I’d felt pretty full of myself already. Casey had started it, a low blow against Rhett, and I had jumped right on the takedown bandwagon. That had been over a year ago when Rhett was just starting his monumental rise to insane popularity.

  I felt like a shell of the former Brenna Sinclair. When I’d had my head injury, everything in my life had changed. I’d gone from happy and confident to withdrawn and confused. And thinking about how Rhett had taken advantage of me only made it worse.

  Why? Why had he done that? Had it been some kind of sick conquest, manipulate the amnesiac for a chance to fuck the one woman who’d always hated him? My nausea came back as I realized it couldn’t have been a mistake. No, Rhett Bradshaw had deliberately tried to manipulate me. He’d led me on. He’d acted like we had no history – no bad blood, no anger.