Chapter Fifteen
Hayden hoped the meeting was going well. It was getting close to one, and Armi still hadn’t returned. No way would he leave until he saw Armi and heard from his lips that he’d held his own. His phone rang with the inter-office line.
“Yes, Josh?” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched a man in a suit approach.
“This guy blew past me, stating he was a friend of Mr. Winters.”
“I’ve got it. Thanks.” He set the receiver in the cradle. “May I help you?” He rose to his feet, facing the man. He was tall and well-dressed with a square jaw and neat haircut. Brown eyes scanned him and warmed.
“Hi, you must be Hayden.”
Confused as to how this stranger knew his name, Hayden blinked. “Yes. And you are?”
“Brent Taylor. A friend of Armi’s.”
“Brent?” Armi came over and stood between them. “What’re you doing here?”
Instead of answering, Brent kissed Armi.
He fucking kissed him.
Hayden’s hands balled into fists, and he saw red. Visions of him pulling Brent off Armi and tossing him into the wall flashed before his eyes. Who the fuck was this Brent person who was touching Armi? Worst of all, why was Armi smiling back at him?
“Hayden? Hayden.”
He pulled himself out of the visual of Brent sailing through the air. “I’m sorry?”
“Brent and I are going to have lunch. I’ll see you in about an hour or so, and we can discuss the meeting.”
“Yeah, sure. Of course.” He seethed, watching Armi walk out with Brent. He didn’t miss the smug bastard taking Armi’s hand and lacing their fingers together, like they were a couple.
When the hell had Armi met this dude? They obviously weren’t strangers, as Armi had let him kiss and touch him. More than let him, as Armi hadn’t seemed to pull away.
If the world had been a different place, maybe it could’ve been him sitting across a table, sharing lunch and a drink. He stabbed his fork into his salad.
“Hayden? Where’s Armand?” Russell gazed down at him.
“Out to lunch. May I help you with something?” He put on his most pleasant smile.
“Out to lunch? With whom?” Perplexed, Russell frowned.
“A friend.” Despite his annoyance with Brent the Beautiful, Hayden wasn’t about to give Russell any info. “What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to talk to him about the response to Martin Price from City News .”
“I can help you with that. Mr. Winters and I worked on it together.”
His brows drew together. “Over the weekend?”
Thank God he’d learned to perfect a face that revealed nothing but bland indifference. “Yes. I’m his personal assistant. Whenever he needs me, I’m available. The hatchet job Price did on him deserved a quick and decisive response. I told Mr. Winters it would best to get in front of it by putting out a statement this morning that disputed the incorrect information Price was attempting to peddle.”
Russell’s laughter boomed. “Are you sure you weren’t a politician at one point?”
“Never.” But he knew how the world worked.
Russell’s gaze turned thoughtful. “What did you say to Martin when he called this morning?”
Instantly on alert, Hayden kept that neutral facade in place. “Why would you think he called?”
Unless you knew.
But Russell wasn’t a newcomer at this game either. “I’ve known Martin Price for years. I know how he operates.”
“Well, I told him that Mr. Winters was tied up in meetings for the rest of the day and couldn’t talk to him. And between us, I’m screening Mr. Winters’s calls. If someone deliberately sets out to be hurtful, they don’t deserve to benefit from it. As far as I’m concerned, Martin Price should be persona non grata here.”
“The guard dog has a bark and a bite, I see.” Amusement gleamed in Russell’s eyes.
“I won’t allow anyone to harm Mr. Winters. And I thought Price had a good relationship with Randolph Winters.”
“They did. But Armand isn’t Randolph, and Martin knows it. He’s trying to make sports editor of City News, and he figured an exposé would bump it.”
“Is that why he did it? To hurt Mr. Winters? Why would he try and take down the Kings by making people believe the team isn’t going in the right direction?” Hayden widened his eyes. “I would’ve thought you’d be livid over how bad he made Mr. Winters look.”
“I am. I planned to call him up and let him know how unhappy the Kings are—”
“But we beat you to it.” Hayden cast his eyes to the floor, playing the part. “You’re not mad, are you, Mr. Anders, that I helped Mr. Winters with his response? He was very upset. I didn’t think it should wait.”
Russell put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Hayden. We both want what’s best for Armand.” He gave him a hard squeeze and left.
“I know I do. I’m not so sure about you,” he muttered to himself.
It was almost two by the time Armi returned from lunch. Brent, flushed and gazing at Armi as if he hung the moon, released Armi’s hand. “I had a great time. I hope we can do it again soon.” Without asking, he lifted a rose from the vase on Hayden’s desk and presented it to Armi. “Next time it’ll be a whole bouquet, but this’ll have to do.”
What a fucking sap. Who would fall for cheesy crap like that?
Apparently Armi, as his blue eyes glowed like twin sapphires. Hayden noticed a spot on Armi’s tie but decided against pointing it out while he and Brent made goo-goo eyes at each other.
“Mr. Winters, you have a conference call at three with the head of United Sports Network.” Hayden arched a brow, and Armi turned to Brent.
“Sorry. I need to prep for it. I told you, that’s why I couldn’t have that drink.”
Brent captured his hand and lifted it to his lips. “We’ll have to make up for it at dinner one night. I’ll call you.” He directed a blinding smile at Hayden. “Bye, Hayden. Don’t let this guy work too hard.”
And Brent actually fucking winked at him, like they were in cahoots to get Armi in his bed.
Not fucking likely, champ.
Armi watched Brent walk away, and Hayden’s jaw ground tight. Yeah, the guy had a nice ass in that thousand-dollar suit. He’d give him that.
“Hayden?” Armi waited by his side.
“Sorry.” He grabbed his iPad. “I’m ready.” Once he was seated across from Armi, he couldn’t help himself. He had to know. “How was lunch?”
Armi shrugged. “It was nice.”
“Nice? Is that it? Your date looks like he’s in love.” Armi blushed. “When did you two meet?”
Did he sound accusatory? Screw it.
“Last night. He works with Marianne, Trevor’s wife.” Armi fiddled with the papers on his desk. The roses had fully opened, their fluffy petals huge, the sweet and spicy fragrance perfuming the air.
“Last night? Damn, he works fast.”
“He seems nice. We talked, and he was interested in what I had to say when I talked about my roses.”
“Why wouldn’t he be? You’re a great guy.”
Armi’s dark lashes fanned down over his cheeks, hiding his eyes. “I know you’ve said so, but it was good to have someone I don’t know pay attention and not fake interest. That doesn’t happen often. Ever, really.”
The implication being that Hayden acted the way he did because Armi was his boss and he had to. Hayden didn’t know whether to be angry or hurt.
“Do you think I was faking it?”
Turning red, Armi ducked his head. “No, of course not,” he whispered. He finally met Hayden’s eyes. “But since we can’t be together, there’s no reason for me not to see people.”
His gaze was surprisingly challenging and momentarily left Hayden speechless. Armi was right—Hayden had told him no, and that should be the end of it. It wasn’t fair to Armi.
“You’re right,” he clipped out. “How did the morning meeting go?”
“It was okay. The scouts have found some good talent to concentrate on, and we’re also close to signing Milo Masterson, the All-Pro receiver. There’s a meeting tomorrow with him and his agent that we hope will wrap it up.”
“Oh, wow. Even I’ve heard of him.”
Masterson’s face had been plastered everywhere after last year’s Super Bowl win—you couldn’t turn on the television without seeing him hawking a product, or pick up a magazine that didn’t have his face on the cover.
“Yeah. I think we’ve reached a good compromise—they got their heavy hitters with these last two signings, and I get to shine the light on some names who might never have gotten noticed.”
“A win-win. Good for you. I knew you could do it. Now about the conference call later on, don’t mention Masterson until you have it all signed, sealed, and delivered. You can talk about Hopkins.”
“Yes, I know. Russell made sure to give me the script.”
Of course.
“Did anyone mention your response to Price’s article?”
“Yeah. Whitmore asked who wrote it. Obviously, no one thought it came from me because…well, you know.” He shrugged, a lifetime of hurts in that gesture. “My father and Russell always worked on statements to the press together.” Armi eyed him. “Did anyone say something about it?”
“Mr. Anders came by, and we chatted briefly. I told him you wanted to make sure that your response would be in the papers first thing on Monday, so that’s why we worked on it over the weekend. Together.”
Armi’s cheeks grew pink, just as his personal phone rang. “Excuse me a sec. Oh, hi.” His eyes grew soft. “Yeah, I really enjoyed it too. The food was delicious.”
Hayden pretended to be engrossed in his iPad and not listening.
“Tonight? Uh, I guess. Sure… Yeah, I can meet you there… No, I’ve never been, but I’ve heard it’s very good.” Hayden sneaked a glance and caught Armi’s eye. Armi quickly looked away.
“I’ll leave you alone.” Vibrating with annoyance, Hayden slipped out of the room and closed the door behind him. At his desk, he had emails to answer for Armi and notes to type up. He prided himself on perfection at the job, and the fact that Armi was doing exactly what he should—dating and breaking free of his shyness—shouldn’t affect him at all.
Armi buzzed him. “Yes?”
“Please come in.”
“Be right there.”
He saved his documents, sent one to Armi, and took two pages from the printer.
“I’m sorry, Hayden. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t. It’s your office, and you have the right to take personal calls.” He handed the papers to Armi. “These are a copy of what I just sent you in an email. It’s the usual question-and-answer sessions they do with every owner before the season starts, but because you’re an out gay owner, there will most likely be questions about that. I’ve worked up some questions and answers, but of course, feel free to substitute with your own words.”
Armi started reading, and Hayden’s heart went out to him as he saw his fingers tremble. “I really don’t understand why my personal life has to be the subject of an interview about my ownership of the team.” He chewed his lip.
“It shouldn’t be, but it’s the world we live in. I’ve kept things surface and vague. When you talk to Out in Sports , then you can discuss it more in depth.”
“Thanks, Hayden. I appreciate everything you’ve done. This is amazing, and I’m sure the call will go smoothly because of you.”
He forced a smile. “Just doing my job. You’d better go to Conference Room B, and I’ve got to finish those scouting notes for you and coordinate your calendar.”
They walked out together, and Hayden watched as Armi disappeared from sight. Breaking his rule of no personal time at the office, he did an incognito Google search of the perfect Brent Taylor. Andover Prep School, Harvard undergrad where he graduated magna cum laude , then Yale Law School, Law Review, and went to work at one of the biggest white shoe firms handling the major real estate deals.
“In other words, the perfect guy with the perfect background for someone like Armi.”
He gave a vicious stab to the X at the corner of the screen and squeezed his eyes shut. Obsessing over a man he shouldn’t want and couldn’t have was getting him nowhere fast. Time to do the job he was hired for and forget about Armand Winters.
The rest of the day passed quickly, and though he waited for Armi to return after the conference call, he never reappeared. At seven, Hayden shut down his computer and left, figuring to walk off his bad mood. By the time he reached home, he’d sweated through his clothes, and in the shower decided to hell with staying home and brooding. He needed to get laid to wipe the memory of Armi from his brain cells.
He dressed in a casual outfit, ate a protein bar, and headed out. He walked along Second Avenue and picked The Factory, a place he’d previously had success in. With a Tito’s and soda in hand, he scanned the crowd.
“Looking for someone in particular?” a voice purred in his ear. A heavily muscled guy in a band T-shirt that smelled as if it, and him, hadn’t washed since Woodstock, stood way too close in his personal space.
“Yeah. And still am.”
“Ouch. Come on, sweetheart. Don’t play hard to get—just hard.” He snickered, thinking his joke was funny.
“Do you mind?” Hayden slid off the barstool and walked to the opposite side of the room. The music was hopping, and he swayed his hips as he sipped his drink. He used to have no problem losing himself in someone, but tonight found him picking out all the faults of everyone he saw.
Too drunk.
Too underdressed.
Too overdressed.
Too loud.
He finished his drink and walked out. He tried another bar with the same result. Everyone’s laughter was forced. He didn’t want to be standing in a bar, trying to make eye contact with a potential bed partner he’d never see again.
Maybe he was too old for this shit.
At home, he got into bed and stared into the darkness. Wondering what Armi and his date were doing. His stomach cramped as he thought of the two of them kissing. Maybe doing more.
He punched the pillow, lying alone in his bed, thinking about a man who could never be his.