Charlotte
“I’ll see you at five to head home?” Callan asks timidly as I climb out of the car the next morning.
“Yep.” I force a smile as I nod.
I nod again even as my chest tightens, the tears I thought I’d expended last night surging back. His grandma, the most important person in his life, hates me. And it’s okay because it’s all fake anyway.
Except, it had started to feel like maybe it wasn’t.
“I’m fine,” I lie, as I grab my computer bag and make my way inside. “I’ll see you this evening. Though if you finish early and need to head home, don’t worry about me. I can always catch a rideshare.” I should probably start driving my own car, anyway. Don’t want to become too reliant on this man.
“I’ll wait,” Callan insists.
I force a smile. “If you want to. Thanks.” I make my way to my office in the team headquarters portion of the campus as Callan heads into the training facility.
“Charlotte, you’ve got a meeting in five,” Chris’ assistant says as I walk in.
“I do?”
“Your father and Hugo called a few minutes ago and requested your first availability.” Whitney doesn’t quite meet my eye.
Requested.
I huff out a quiet breath. “You mean they demanded eight a.m. and told you to shuffle anything else I might’ve had?”
She gives me an apologetic smile. “Something like that.”
“That’s fine.” I nod once. “I’d rather get whatever it is out of the way this morning. Thank you for shuffling my calendar for me.” Of course they did. It’s the exact power move my dad loves to pull. He probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it with me. Old habits die hard, and what not.
I walk into my office and take a deep breath.
The room still smells faintly like Chris’ cologne—clean, expensive, and definitely not mine.
I’m not planning on being here for long, so I haven’t changed anything from when Chris used it.
He told me he’s left my office as is as well.
Luckily, I’ve been so caught up in trying to understand a very complex industry that I haven’t had time to think about how Parent Trap-y it is that we kind of swapped lives.
I drop into the chair as the door opens.
“Charlotte.” Dad steps into the room as if he belongs here. Hugo follows, already buttoning his jacket like he’s preparing to give a formal presentation.
I stand, offering Dad a hug before gesturing to the two seats in front of my desk. “What can I do for you both?”
Hugo doesn’t sit right away. He studies me before finally lowering himself into the seat, almost like he’s humoring me. “There’s a situation we need to address,” he says. “Roster decisions.”
“Okay,” I reply evenly. This is early for roster discussions, I know that much, at least.
He exchanges a glance with my dad that isn’t even remotely subtle, and my stomach clenches. “We’re exploring trade options for Callan.”
The words hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest, but I don’t let it show.
“Exploring?” I ask. “Or have you already decided?”
“Exploring,” my father confirms.
“It’s what’s best for the team,” Hugo declares, not quite contradicting my father, but making it clear that he, at least, has already decided.
“We need the room in our cap, and Callan isn’t what we need going forward.
I don’t think he can get us to the championship, so we need to start building if we’re going to have the best chance of winning it all next year. ”
I fold my hands on the desk to keep them still. “And you’ve run the numbers? Taking into consideration how much he’s loved by both the fans and the players?”
Hugo’s mouth tightens. “We have.”
“Great. Send them my way, and I’ll take a look.
When will you make your final recommendation?
” I emphasize the last word, reminding Hugo that, while he might have to approve every decision I make, I am still the acting owner.
He can’t make these decisions unilaterally, either.
Especially not when it comes to a player like Callan.
My dad clears his throat. “Charlotte—”
“If we had the sponsorship dollars we need, this could be a different discussion,” Hugo cuts in. “But as it seems you’ve made no progress on that front…” He trails off, the implication that this is my fault hanging heavily in the air.
“I didn’t—”
“No need to get emotional,” Hugo cuts me off from defending myself or telling them I’m working on a solution.
“I’m not emotional,” I state calmly. “I’d simply like to see the numbers.”
“I know this is hard on you, with him being your boyfriend and all.” Hugo acts like I’m flying around the room in a rage, when all I’ve done is ask for numbers.
“It’s not about our relationship,” I attempt to clarify. “I feel it would be prudent to see the analysis before we decide. If that’s what’s best for the team, then that’s what’s best for the team.”
Hugo stands. “I’ll have everything sent over, then. Let me know if you don’t understand it.”
I hide my grimace at the dig.
My father rises, too, quickly saying goodbye before walking out, Hugo at his heels.
“Hugo,” I call, stopping him at the door. “Why was my father invited to that meeting?”
He pauses halfway to the door, turning around slowly. I can feel the waves of derision flowing off the man, though I’m not sure whether it’s because I stopped him from chasing my dad or because I deigned to ask him a question. “It’s his team.”
“It’s my team,” I correct, leaning my hip against the desk and crossing my arms. “I’m the acting owner.”
“We both know that’s not exactly true, Charlotte.” His tone softens in a way that’s somehow more insulting than if he’d snapped. “This is a major decision that could directly affect your boyfriend. I couldn’t count on you acting rationally when receiving news like that, so I called your father in.”
The fucking nerve of this man. Everything inside me wants to show him exactly what an irrational Charlotte looks like, if for no other reason than to prove that if she were to come out and play, he would need a hell of a lot more than my dad to protect him.
“It is true. And I do not appreciate having my authority undermined by calling my dad to come in. Would you have brought him in for a meeting with Chris?”
A snarky smile crosses Hugo’s face, one that makes me want to throw my shoe at him. “Chris knew how this business was run.”
I force the anger inside me down. “And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”
“He understood what it took to keep a football team running.” Hugo is invested now, gesticulating as he makes his point.
“You spend your days flirting with the players, distracting them from what they’re supposed to be doing.
And don’t even get me started on your insistence on being on the sidelines.
I let it happen if for no other reason than to show your father how terrible an idea it would be for you to have control over the team in the long run. ”
Something sharp and dangerous settles in my chest.
“I am quite rational, Hugo. And it would do well for you to remember that. Either my brother or I will own this team someday. And I assure you, neither of us takes well to sexism or statements that women are too emotional to lead.”
Hugo stares at me. “I see no indication I was wrong.” He turns and starts walking out the door before stopping again.
“Oh, and, Charlotte, I assume you, with all your leadership knowledge, understand this conversation must be kept strictly confidential. Any leak of this information could hurt the team in negotiations.”
He taps twice on my doorframe and leaves.