THE PITCH, page 8
Chapter 9
Carter
Fuck, fuck, fuck! I feel like a total prick. Why the hell did I push her? I should have listened to her when she told me to keep my dick three feet away. I couldn’t do it though. She’s beautiful and smart and not worried about giving me shit. She is like a breath of fresh air and more to the point. She’s real.
I just can’t stand to look at her right now. Not because I’m angry but because it’s a reminder of what I’ve ruined. How will she ever be able to work with me, worrying that I’m going to cross the line again and jump her bones at the very first opportunity?
From now on, it’s strictly business, even if she begs . . . Well, actually, if she begs, I won’t be able to say no, but she will have to be the one who wants it. I’m not putting myself out there to be rejected all over again. And she’s probably right. We may not work, but then again, we might have. Frustration boils in my body, and it gets even worse when I get a text message from Braxton, my eldest brother.
Braxton: Mom and Dad are having an anniversary party, and they want you to come.
Carter: When is it?
Braxton: Two weeks today. No excuses, I’ve checked. You’re playing fixtures, and your team plays on Wednesday night, so you can fly out Thursday and be back by Monday.
I read the message three times. Shit, that’s five days with no physiotherapy. I can’t be away for five days, not unless Brook can show me what I need to be doing while I’m away. Or she could come with me. After all, she will be working solely for me, so there’s no reason why she can’t.
Carter: I might have to bring someone with me.
Braxton: No! Absolutely not. You are not ruining Mom and Dad’s anniversary.
Carter: Brax, it’s not like that.
I click send and then wonder how the hell I’m going to explain who Brook is. My family doesn’t know I’m still having trouble with my leg, and I don’t want them to know either.
My phone rings, and Braxton flashes on the screen.
“Don’t even think about giving me shit this morning,” I grumble into the phone.
“I’m not in the best of moods myself. I’ve not gotten to bed yet, and it’s 3:30 a.m. here. You can’t bring a plus one.” Braxton yawns down the phone.
“Why not?”
“Because your type of plus one isn’t welcome.”
“I’m offended. I’m serious, Brax, I’m fucking offended. I know you joke about me, but I’m sick of that shit. I know I’ve made a few mistakes, but who hasn’t?”
“Your mistakes are talked about more often than mine. What’s the problem with you coming on your own? Drew is coming on his own.”
“Yeah, and he’ll be fucking the twins while he’s there! I might not be able to make it anyway.”
“You can’t miss it, Mom will not forgive you easily. Not without a really good reason.”
“Hmm, I know. But . . .” I struggle to find a reason.
“Carter, what’s wrong? Are you in trouble?”
“No, of course not, it’ll just be difficult to get away, that’s all.”
“Oh fuck, you’ve met someone. Someone you’re interested in.”
“No. Well . . . yeah, but—”
“What does she do?”
“What do you mean? She’s not into freaky stuff, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I meant for a career.”
“Oh, got ya, she’s a physiotherapist.”
“A real one?”
“Yeah, what would a fake one be?”
“A masseur or something with happy endings.”
My anger begins to boil. I might be pissed at Brook, but he doesn’t have the right to even think about her in that way.
“Fuck you! She’s the best in her field, and she’s smart and . . . I don’t need this shit.”
“Woah, hang on . . . I was joking, and with some of the stunts you’ve pulled over the years, you can’t blame me for having a laugh.”
“Not about Brook, Brax. She’s not like anyone I’ve ever met.”
“So, where did you meet her?”
“When I played football, she was a trainee sports physio, and then when the club went under, she had to move elsewhere. I’m hoping she’ll come back to the club though.”
“So, she knows about—”
“Yes!” I interrupt. “She was there, saw everything, so we don’t need to discuss it any further. So, if she wants to come, can I bring her?”
“Yeah, I can’t wait to tell Gee you’ve got yourself a girlfriend. Mom and Dad will be relieved. Mom was getting worried about your reputation.”
“My reputation? What about it?” I’m just about to tell him she’s not my girlfriend, but he answers my question.
“You’re a borderline manwhore. I say borderline because there have been a few that you’ve seen a few times.”
“And you weren’t?” I bark down the phone. “Fuck this shit! Don’t fucking ring me again until you can be fucking civil. Fucking manwhore? Fuck you!”
I click the end call button and shove my phone into my pocket, my mood even darker than before.
As I enter the living room, Brook is standing looking at her phone, and she raises her eyes to meet mine.
“Are you ready to go?” I snap at her.
She blinks twice and then quietly says, “Yes, I’ve just sent you over my bank details like you asked.”
“Good, now can we get going? I’ve suddenly got a busy day.” I regret the words as soon as they are out of my mouth.
“I don’t need you to do anything for me. You offered.”
“I didn’t mean it like it sounded. Let’s get going, and then I can get everything done before the team meets.”
We head out of the house and get into the car. The first half of the journey is in total silence until Brook begins to hum.
“What’s that tune you’re humming? It reminds me of something I know.”
“’Land of Hope and Glory.’ I don’t think it’ll be on your playlist. It’s a very British anthem.”
“Oh, but I did recognise it. Hmm, do you know the words?”
“No, and if I did, I wouldn’t be singing it for you. Anyway, do you want to do a session after the game, and then I can get the eight o’clock train home?”
“Yeah, can do, but I don’t want you to get the train, it’ll be dark and not safe. I’ll insure you on this.”
“What? You mean me drive this? No. No way.”
“Why? It’s only a chunk of metal. It doesn’t mean anything to me. Your safety is far more important than this.”
“This thing is worth tens of thousands of pounds. I can’t. I won’t.”
I don’t correct her and tell her it’s worth over a hundred thousand pounds. “Okay, then I’ll drive you home until I can arrange for a driver for you.”
“Carter, I can’t afford a driver, and you’re not paying for one either. I’m a grown up, and I can get the train like everyone else.”
And again, we are arguing. Normally, when I offer something to a woman, they jump at the chance, and if they argue back, I get pissed off and make sure we don’t see each other again. But arguing with Brook isn’t pissing me off, it’s turning me on, and knowing that she wants me but can’t have me makes it even worse. The more she pushes me away, the more I’m enjoying it.
I pull the car into the car park of the football club and jump out.
“Where are you going?” she asks, confused.
“To let you in. You’re early, and the only people that will be here right now are the groundspeople.”
“Oh, yeah. I am a little early,” she says, taking a look at the stadium towering above us. “It’s looking really good, Carter. You’ve done amazing things to the place.”
“I know, it’s cost me an arm and a leg, but we’re getting there. I just need to get us back into the Premiership, get the crowds back, and start making some money, and everything will be fine.”
“So, you’re not making any money?”
“Nah, it’s a passion project. I just want to start breaking even. It doesn’t really matter, but it’d be good. My dad keeps asking, and it’s becoming a bit embarrassing.”
I can see her mind working, just like everyone else when they realise the club makes a huge loss every year. How she reacts now will tell me a lot about her.
“Oh, Carter, are you sure you can afford to pay me so much money? I can work for less. I don’t want to put you under financial pressure. I know how hard it can be when you’ve not got a lot of money coming in.”
Halle-fucking-lujah! Is this girl for real? She’s worried about me and my finances whilst her landlord is trying to evict her? She couldn’t have made me like her more if she’d gotten on her knees.
“I’m fine, Brook, but it’s very kind of you. I’m financially stable and will be for life. You don’t need to worry where my next dollar is coming from.”
We get to the locked gates, and I pull out my keys, unlock the lock, and punch in the security code to open up the whole door. I look over at Brook, and she’s looking at me with her eyes squinting.
“Carter, where is it coming from if not from the club?”
“I like your directness, beautiful, but that’s my business. I don’t talk about my money and certainly not where it comes from. I can assure you that it’s not illegal or dangerous.”
I show her into the main reception area and begin switching on the lights.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It was really rude of me. It just confused me, that’s all.”
“You don’t need to worry. I have enough money to pay you what we agreed, and it won’t put me in any financial hardship. My health is worth every penny.”
“I am sorry. Really sorry,” she says with a sad and embarrassed look on her face. I don’t like her looking so down.
“Well, you might need to make it up to me later.” I wink at her and laugh, hoping that it breaks her frown.
It does for a second and then she remembers. “I told you that this morning was a one off. You need to understand that your health is important to me, too.”
“I’m glad you think so, but that’s a conversation for tonight.” I look at my watch and decide that now is the time I make my escape. “Can you text me your landlord’s number? If I can get him to meet me earlier, it’ll be helpful.”
She nods. “Are the changing rooms still in the same place?” I nod, and she smiles. “I’ll see you after the game.”
I raise my hand and leave the building, wishing I could stay just a little longer. But me staying will only make me say stupid things and push her further into this professional relationship she’s creating, and that’s not what I want. Not one bit.
I call Brook’s landlord, who is a cocky fucker, and he tries to push the time even further out. But when I told him I’d drag him through every court in the land and ruin his business, he agreed to meet me at 10:00.
I pull up outside the address Brook gave me and take a long look at the place. It’s run down. The windows need replacing, and the roof looks like half of it is missing. The fencing is broken, and, truthfully, the place looks like it needs a complete renovation, and the cheeky bastard keeps putting up the rent. How can he justify over a thousand pounds a month for a two-bedroom terrace house that’s dilapidated and probably a health hazard?
I shake my head as a black Mercedes pulls up behind me, and out gets a person I recognise. Terry Jeffers—or Munch, as I call him. I’ve never known anyone who is able to eat his own body weight in burgers until I met him. He’s a lot shorter than me, but most people are. I’m six foot four, and he doesn’t even reach my shoulders. His blond spikey hair makes me want to laugh as he pulls on his woollen overcoat, trying to look like the businessman he isn’t.
“Well, well, well,” he says as he walks up to my car, all swagger and no balls.
“I’m surprised to see you here.” I smile, although I’m feeling more and more angry as he walks like a prick towards me.
“Yeah, I’m surprised to see you, too. When you said Mr. Blackmoore, I thought it’d be one of your brothers. I didn’t think you’d be the one to come to a damsel in distress.”
“Brook isn’t a damsel; she’s just got a ruthless landlord who keeps putting the rent up on her.”
“It’s a business, Carter, you know how it is. I can get even more for this house than she’s paying, and I think I’ve been more than fair. Since her mum died, she’s been late with the rent more than she’s been on time. I need to pay the mortgage on this place, and when she misses a payment, I lose money.”
I nod. I can understand where he’s coming from, but it still doesn’t excuse the state of the place.
“When are you going to re-roof it and fix the fence and replace the windows?”
“I’m not! Unless she moves out, and then I can up the rent even more and do the repairs.”
“So, you’re just going to force her out and make her live in an unfit house until she can’t pay anymore or the roof falls in?”
“Yeah, what’s it to you anyway? You fucking her or something?”
My fist clenches in my jacket pocket. Who the fuck does that fat fucking munch think he is? Fucking her? I’ll fuck him over if he carries on. He doesn’t even know me well enough to ask questions like that. I’ve met him a handful of times at charity events, and he always plays the rich asshole part.
“No, she’s my employee.”
“Ah, I get it, you’re fucking your assistant. I don’t blame you, she’s fit as fuck. I’ve often thought about lowering her rent, you know, for a few favours.”
“Don’t even think about it, and I’ll be paying her rent from now on. It won’t be late, and it won’t be going up.”
“If you’re paying it, I’m going to double it.”
My patience finally snaps. My hands wrap around the lapel of his woollen coat, and I slam him against my car. “Don’t fucking push it. You try anything, and I’ll have you in court faster than you can order a fucking burger.”
“Hey, no need to get all arsey. Get the fuck off me.”
“I will when you confirm the rent stays the same.”
“I can’t. I owe too much money.”
And there we have the real problem. He’s in debt, and I can’t help but grin. A big wide grin. I lower him to the ground. “Music to my ears, Munch.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to help you out. I shouldn’t, but I will. I’ll buy your portfolio of properties, including this one.”
“All of them? I’ve got twenty houses. They’re worth over five million pounds collectively.”
I don’t flinch at all. “Sounds about right.” I pull out a business card and hand it to him. “Send me your portfolio. I’ll get it valued, and we’ll talk. In the meantime, you don’t come anywhere near this place, Brook, or her friend. Do I make myself clear?”
He nods and then shakes his head. “You’re fucking nuts, do you know that? Are you really serious?”
“Deadly, but it has to be the whole lot. Email me by 10:00 p.m., and don’t make me ring you.”
He looks down at my business card and nods. “I’ll speak to you later,” he says as he opens his car door.
“No, don’t call me. Our conversations are business. Everything is to be in writing from now on unless I ring you.” I pull out an envelope of cash that I’d taken from my safe this morning. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” I wave the envelope at him, and he gets back out of the car.
“Thanks, you’ve just pulled the rug from under me. I-I’ll email you.” He takes the envelope, walks away, and squeezes into his car.
I get into the driver’s seat and mull over what I’ve just done. Five million isn’t a huge amount of money, but to buy twenty properties that I don’t want or need seems a little impulsive. But I’ve said it now, and I’ll follow through. I start thinking of the other tenants and wonder if their properties are as bad as Brook’s. I’ll get my design team on it, and it’ll be a palace in no time, just like my other properties.
I own over four hundred properties throughout the UK and the States. Twenty more won’t cause my team to stress out too much. The only thing that will make them moan is the time frame I want it completed in. I know they’ll moan, because this isn’t the first time I’ve bought properties on a whim, but it’s also usually at auction, and the process is a lot simpler.
I turn the key in the ignition and call Petra. Petra manages the teams that look after my properties. They make sure that each tenant is looked after and treated with respect.
“Carter, you do realise it’s Saturday morning?”
“Yeah, I do, but I think I’ve just bought twenty more properties. I’ll have the details later tonight, so when it comes through, I’m going to fire the email straight over.”
“Okay, but what’s the rush?”
“The current owner is Terry Jeffers, need I say more?”
“Oh god, that creep. Urgh, he was at the Butterfly Foundation Charity event a few months back. He tried to buy me a drink until Denver pushed him out of the way.”
Denver is Petra’s husband and a former marine. He’s also possessive and jealous. He’s never had a problem with me, thankfully, but, fuck . . . “I bet Munch pissed his pants.”
“He left soon after, before the auction started. Is he in financial trouble?”
“I think so. I offered five million, but if it turns out they are only worth four, I want to know.”
“Okay, I’ll run the numbers and get them back to you as soon as I can. The faster you send me the information, the quicker we can get them all valued.”
“I know the ropes, Petra.” I sigh and screw my face up. “Sorry, it’s been a shitty morning. Thank you, and sorry for disturbing your Saturday morning.”
Denver’s voice comes through clear on the line. “You better be fucking sorry, I was just about to get some.”
Shit. I screw up my face again. “Erm . . . get busy then. See ya.” I end the call and start to laugh. Fuck, today is biting me well and truly on the ass. We better fucking win today, or I’m going to stay in bed all day tomorrow.
