Another Goal, page 18
She settled in the chair her husband had sat in last night, resting Bree’s tiny weight against her chest. Bree went boneless in a way that told me she would soon be asleep. “I know! It’s almost too much…until I tell you he can sing.”
“Get out.” I gasped. “Like, well?”
She patted Bree’s tiny, diapered butt. “Dreamy.”
“That’s a lot of potency,” I murmured.
“Don’t let Stolly hear you say that.”
“He’s potent, too,” I said.
“They’re professional athletes. Goes with the territory.” She adjusted her position. “So, what did he tell you about why he’s so stressed? I’ve never seen him like this.”
I nibbled my lip. “He mentioned a woman bothering him about the dog he just rescued.”
Paloma raised an eyebrow.
“An Army veteran who worked with Belladonna, too. Not as her main handler.”
Paloma’s smile grew slowly. “So she’s young.”
“And she has pretty eyes when they’re not shooting fire at Cruz,” I added.
Paloma leaned back in her seat. “Interesting…” She waved the thought away. “We’ll deal with Cruz’s love life later. What do you want to do this afternoon?”
“Not worry about the baby or Luka or my father,” I said.
“I have just the thing,” Paloma said with a smile. “Are you into mysteries? I’ve been saving one to binge.”
“Sounds great,” I said as I tossed her the remote.
I’d been dozing on the couch sometime later, after I’d fed and changed Bree, when Paloma rose to answer a knock at the door. She whispered quietly with the person on the other side, who, though I craned my neck, I couldn’t see. She shot an apologetic look over her shoulder and stepped back.
A large man—a human version of a grizzly—stepped inside. His bulk might well be more than Cruz’s, and he had deep-set brown eyes under blond brows. The rest of his features were straight out of a Nordic catalogue—not Ikea. He was too upscale in his bespoke suit and silk tie. His blond hair was tamed back but curled over his collar.
“Hello,” I said, breaking the staring contest.
“Hello. Do you know who I am?” he asked.
“Gunnar Evaldson, the Wildcatters owner and Luka’s boss.”
His lips tipped up. “And you’re Millicent Jones, daughter of Chasten Jones and former fiancée of Trenton Cox.”
I swallowed and looked over at Paloma, who was texting on her phone. “Would you mind sitting down, please?”
Gunnar stalked a few steps to the chair and lowered himself to the edge. “I’m assuming you know that Trent and your father have shown an interest in buying a stake in the Wildcatters,” he said. His light brown eyes were direct.
“Yes,” I said. “Are you considering it?”
“I hadn’t intended to part with any portion of the Wildcatters organization. But I have to admit, the offer’s tempting because it revolves around adding to the team’s outreach efforts, which would do a lot to help people in the city.”
Outreach efforts? My father was truly shameless—and manipulative. He didn’t care about helping others; he wanted a way to control Luka and me. I balled my fists and swallowed the bitter acid on my tongue.
“But I’ve heard things about Trent,” Gunnar continued. “Things I don’t like—about his treatment of women, specifically.”
My jaw tensed, and it took everything in me to remain in my seat. “And you want me to clarify those for you.”
He dipped his head, but it wasn’t in acquiescence. He was deigning to listen to my story.
“You don’t have to talk about that now,” Paloma said.
She’d pocketed her phone and set her hand on my shoulder, shooting daggers at Gunnar, who didn’t bother to look at her. I kept my gaze focused solely on this man, who seemed just like my father—a man who didn’t care about the people who worked for him or surrounded them. So long as he got his money and the organization remained successful, the rest of us were just chess pieces to move and throw away.
“Trent slid a ring on my finger and informed me we were getting married. Later that night, he pinned me to the bed and informed me that I was getting pregnant, regardless of my feelings or goals, so I ended our relationship. Before that moment, I would have sworn he loved me.”
I tucked my lips into my mouth. This was why I’d given up on men. Trent was the last in the string of men I’d dated—and slept with—who’d failed me. He went right along with my father’s plan to try to tie up my life and choices in a conservatorship.
“What does that have to do with your father suing for custody of one of my players’ kids?”
Right. Gunnar Evaldson had an agenda. I met his gaze.
“After I left Trent, my father sided with him, explaining that it was my job to keep my husband happy—and that no one else would want me after Trent, anyway. He threatened to set up a conservatorship because I wasn’t in my right mind to turn down Trent.”
“Your father threatened you with legal action if you didn’t marry Trenton Cox?” Paloma asked. She’d turned a sickly shade of white. “Holy crap!”
I nodded. “I left this city after my father sent me a series of videos of me with other men. He’d been documenting my dating life and told me he’d use it against me in court.”
“To force you to marry the man you didn’t love or want?” Gunnar asked.
I nodded. “You don’t get far or have much freedom when those two men intend to make you suffer.”
Gunnar’s eyes narrowed, and he steepled his fingers. “I’m going to be honest with you, Ms. Jones—”
“Millie. Just Millie.” I wanted nothing to do with my father. Ever. I’d been so excited when Luka mentioned me taking his name. There was nothing I wanted more.
Gunnar inclined his head. “I talked to your father earlier. He painted you as too flighty to handle his business and fortune. He insinuated drug use and mental illness.”
I laughed, but choked on the emotion in my throat. “I was on antidepressants after my mother died. Pills he insisted I needed.”
Now I understood why: my father had been building the case against me, even then. He’d planned to force the conservatorship on me, force me to bend to his whim and will.
The door banged open and Cruz strode in, much like an angry bull, ready to fight.
Neither Gunnar nor I flinched. I was too busy sorting through the details of my father’s betrayal. I swallowed and plotted the molecular formula of a sodium oxalate, a complicated ion made up of sodium, carbon, and oxygen.
“Your father seemed concerned for Luka and your child, worried that you’d destroy his career and cannot provide a stable home for your daughter,” Gunnar continued.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Paloma cried. “That’s ridiculous! She’s an attentive, wonderful mother.” Her mouth twisted. “And it should never have been questioned.”
“You’re here,” I said. “To test my intelligence and my story.”
“Seriously?” Cruz growled.
Paloma gave a curt nod in agreement.
“You’re leaving,” Cruz said. “Not sure what I’m most mad about—that you showed up knowing Luka wasn’t here, or that you interrogated a woman who just had a baby about a merger.”
“My timing is intentional, and I have a few more questions.” Gunnar’s tone remained mild. I would never underestimate him.
Again Cruz made a sound—almost inhuman—as anger radiated off him like heat.
“Too bad,” Paloma snarled.
Oh no, she’d gone all mama bear, too. I stared up at two people I really didn’t know well—two people who were defending me from their boss. “It’s okay, Paloma, Cruz. Really. I’m okay.”
“I’m not,” Cruz said, fisting his hands and moving in front of me. I had to crane my neck to see around his bulk. Gunnar appeared perturbed for the first time. Clearly, he wasn’t used to Cruz’s anger.
“You have no right to ask these questions,” Paloma snapped. “And it’s doubly insulting because no man would have to answer for his personal life choices.”
She settled next to my hip with Bree cuddled against her chest. She patted my hand, glaring at Gunnar.
“No one has a right to the details of my private life, but I’m willing to answer the questions one time.” I gave Gunnar a look that should have cowed him. It didn’t. Of course it didn’t. The man was a bloody billionaire, and he owned a professional sports team.
But he did sigh. His gaze flicked to Cruz’s and Paloma’s before returning to mine. “You’re correct. I apologize.”
Those words hung in the air. No one moved. A heaviness settled over us as Gunnar and I continued our face-off.
“I made a misstep in my comments,” Gunnar said. “I want you to know that I believe you, Millie, and I know Chasten is…”
“A ragged trash heap of a man who only finds joy in using others and gathering more wealth to pad his bottomless ego?” Paloma offered.
Gunnar’s lips shifted upward into the faintest of smiles, but his eyes glowed with humor. “Yes. That. Best way I’ve heard him described. Let me leave it at this: I’m not a fan of your father.”
“Makes two of us,” I said.
He pulled a thick pile of papers from his briefcase. “This is your mother’s will. I’m guessing you’ve never read it,” he said, handing the packet to me.
I frowned. “I… No. She died when I was young.”
Gunnar’s eyes had gone colder than the Arctic. This was the brutal businessman that had clawed his way to the top of the oil business in a foreign country.
“And Chasten never offered you any details.”
I shook my head.
“The key piece of information is that your mother brought substantial wealth to the marriage.”
“Not my father,” I said. I inhaled, realizing what he was telling me. “And I’m my mother’s beneficiary, which means my father can’t really disown me from wealth that was never his.”
Gunnar’s smile was as cold as his eyes. “Indeed. I highlighted a few parts I think you’ll find enlightening—and helpful.”
I gripped the papers so tightly in my hands, I worried about paper cuts. “Would you be willing to recommend an attorney that deals in family and wealth litigation, Gunnar?”
Humor crept back into his expression. Maybe because I’d used his first name—a deliberate attempt to put us on more even footing, which we clearly weren’t.
“I’d be delighted to. In fact, I made you an appointment for next Monday morning.”
That was in three days. Would Luka be back then? I didn’t want to go alone.
I didn’t want to be alone.
I wanted Luka.
“Nine a.m. Perhaps Cruz and the rest of the team would like to join you.” Gunnar flicked his fingers at the corner of the pages. “Once you read through this and talk to Jonathan Dresden, you can tell me if you agree with my logic: cornered, injured animals are at their most dangerous. One thing about the Wildcatters, we don’t let our people take unnecessary risks.”
I struggled forward, my lingering belly still making it difficult for me to rise. Cruz was there to help me—and so, it seemed, was Gunnar.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Don’t thank me yet. And I’m going to recommend that Luka take a paternity test.”
This time, it was Paloma who made the guttural sound. Gunnar’s eyes turned sad as he looked her direction, but his expression remained neutral.
“Noted,” I said through clenched teeth. That was smart; something I should have suggested. I wished I had because then I wouldn’t have this gaping pit in my chest, making me wonder if Luka would hear the mere idea of a test and run away.
“You need to leave,” Paloma said. Her hands remained fisted and her face flushed, matching her hair.
“Luka’s a phenomenal player. Let’s sort out this mess.” Gunnar stepped toward the door. He towered over me, the debonair, inscrutable billionaire. I’d lived with my father’s belittling, invasive tactics, but never had I felt as powerless as I did in that moment. And this was a person who intended to be on my side.
With a curt nod of dismissal, Gunnar left through the door Cruz held open for him.
Chapter 15
Luka
I clutched at my hair as I listened, through the speaker of my phone, to the conversation between the owner of the Wildcatters and my Millie.
I wasn’t there. How the fuck was I supposed to prove to her that she could trust me, lean on me, be with me, if I wasn’t there for her when she needed me?
Instead, Cruz and Paloma and even Coach were standing in for me.
Part of me was glad they cared enough to be there for my woman. But another less-confident part—the little boy who’d gone to his mother in tears over a skinned knee or a slight and been rejected—worried Millie would reject me, too.
“You hear all that?” Cruz asked as he closed the door behind him.
His voice rumbled through the air, into my ear, and through my body.
“Yeah, man, I heard. I need to get back for that meeting.”
“True.” Cruz paused. “By the way, Millie doesn’t know I had you on the phone—that you heard all that, and maybe that’s a good thing.” He blew out a long breath. “You should also do the paternity test.”
Shock flared white-hot through my chest. “Why would you say that?”
“To give Bree protection, in case Chasten manages to Britney Spears your girl. Your child can’t get caught up in that, man.”
He was right, but the idea seemed mercenary, like I didn’t trust Millie. But I had to pursue my options with a clear head.
“How’s Alyssa?” Cruz asked into the silence.
I swallowed hard. “Dying.”
I was losing my damn mind; I didn’t have a clue how to solve the problem that was my life. Although I needed to be in Houston with Millie, I couldn’t abandon Alyssa, the mother I’d always wanted.
“None of that now, son.”
Alyssa’s voice froze every muscle, and I couldn’t take a breath. She never called me son—that moniker was Mike’s, the child of her body. “You’re a good boy, Luka,” she added, patting my face when I met her eyes. “A good boy.”
“Gotta go,” I told Cruz. “I’ll figure out how to get there for that meeting—and I’ll call Millie in a few.”
“You got it. Chin up.”
I closed my eyes. That was a near impossibility in this situation.
“Love is hard,” Alyssa rasped after a moment. “Until it’s as easy as breathing.” She reached up, her hand shaking. I took it in mine. “The secret is letting go, son. You gotta let all that other shit go.”
“What?”
The door had creaked open as she spoke, and I lifted my gaze to Mike’s.
“The details about her past, your past—they don’t matter, not if you want each other,” Alyssa continued. “Not if you want to be great parents to that precious baby. I raised you right, enough to be an even better partner than you already are.”
“He’s been a better son to you than me, Ma,” Mike said, taking up position on the other side of her bed. “Giving you a grandkid earns extra points.”
“Different, honey. Not better. Luka, see, he knows what it’s like to go through life without a mother’s love. Except you both have mine, and I did a mighty fine job of raising you both.”
Mike’s lower lip trembled, but he nodded. “You did, Ma. You did.”
“My only regret is that I didn’t find you a good woman, Mikey. Luka sorted himself out. His Bree is the cutest, and he’s going to marry an engineer. Can you believe that?”
Mike shot me a testy glance, likely irritated that his mother was singing my family-man praises.
I pressed a kiss to her leathery cheek. “I’ll give you two a minute.” I needed to touch base with Millie.
Maybe the Wildcatters would call me in to fire me or trade me, not wanting to deal with the drama surrounding Millie and me. That actually brought a shadow of relief through the sadness. I’d hoped to be a career Wildcatters player, but I refused to leave Millie scared and uncomfortable for the rest of my professional years. So we’d have to move. Maybe her company had a location in another state. Or she could get another job with a different firm. Or stay at home with our daughter. I wasn’t sure what Millie wanted, but as long as we were together, I’d do my best to make it happen.
I strode down the hospital hallway, looking for a place to make a phone call as thoughts swirled through my mind. I stepped into an empty waiting room, and Millie picked up on the third ring. “Hey, Luka.”
“Will you tell me why Gunnar Evaldson came to see you today?” I asked.
“Oh! Yeah, just a second.” I heard her riffling through papers and talking to someone. A deep voice replied—not Cruz, who I’d expected to be there.
“Where’s Cruz?” I asked.
“He’s dealing with something. Lennon’s a fortress of impenetrable silence, so I didn’t get enough out of him to satisfy my curiosity—”
“His first name’s Lennon? How did I not know that?”
“Ah, because he doesn’t like it,” Millie said.
“Fuck that,” I muttered, annoyed she knew more about my best friend on the team after two days than I’d learned in all the years I’d been playing and training with him.
“Luka,” Millie said. She sighed. “We need to talk.”
I stopped pacing and waited. Twice in ten minutes, I’d felt like my world was ending.
“Luka, it’s not his money. It’s mine.”
I leaned against the wall, wondering if I’d entered the Twilight Zone or something. I swallowed. “That’s…great.”
“Actually, it sucks,” Millie said glumly. “What do I know about running an empire?”
“More than me.”
She snorted. “I seriously doubt that. I’ve seen you talk to your agent and PR person, remember? You’re on top of your assets and time. Me? I know how to write code to search for oil.”
“You do so much more than that, Millie. You were in charge of a team—”
