Chapter 19
Inés
She’s Pretty—Beth McCarthy
I spent the entire night wrestling with Chloe’s offer, but during an early-morning call with Selene, she convinced me that
this deal was the answer to a lot of my problems.
After that, she drove out to meet us in the Hamptons, and we all piled into the large office in the beach house. Selene, Calvin,
Chloe and I all surrounded a landline office phone, Chloe’s agent on the other end.
“We’ve still got some more terms to discuss,” a male voice boomed from the speaker. “We are not willing to subsidize Ms. Costa’s
additional items, such as room service and—”
Selene cut him off, leaning forward into the speakerphone. “Room service might be necessary. If you’ve kept her busy into
the evening with practice, then she still needs to eat.”
There was silence, as if Chloe’s agent was thinking, before he called on another person. “David, are you on the call?”
Chloe, opposite me, sank deeper into her chair, her eyes rolling.
“Yeah, I’m on the call,” a new male voice said. “Selene, I think we need to discuss a price limit. We should also discuss
the cost of the room. These prices can get high close to tournaments, and Inés should be willing to cover any cost that exceeds
what we agree.”
“Out of the question. Where Chloe is staying, Inés does and at your expense. That’s part of the deal. I want that included in the contract,” Selene argued back. “Jerry, are you on?”
Chloe’s eyes caught mine, the blue-green dulled by boredom. But she smiled slightly, covering her mouth in a fake yawn. The
tight cord around my heart loosened, a small chuckle escaping me.
I thought about her words last night. She’d seemed so open with me, honest in her intentions, but what if she was lying? What
if she dumped me on the runway in Toronto? And more dangerous yet, I’d be aiding my rival.
“Yeah, I hear you, Selene.” I rolled my eyes at the next person. “Jerry” continued, “I agree, I’ll make sure that amendment
is included before we sign.”
“I think this warrants further discussion,” said Chloe’s manager.
And on and on it went, Selene arguing with Chloe’s lawyer over the need for a non-disclosure agreement, arguing whether or
not we’d be allowed to discuss our time together with media or, God forbid, in a tell-all biography.
“And court time, is that limited?” Selene asked. “If my client is on the court all day, there’s only so much longer she will
be available to practice.”
Over the phone, Chloe’s agent sighed heavily, as if he was already sick and tired of arguing back and forth.
“Then what’s the point of this?” David questioned, his tone sharp. “Chloe, Calvin, are you sure we should be hiring somebody
who is competing against us?”
“Dad, I want Inés,” Chloe said, taking everyone in the room by surprise. “Nobody else.”
We were all silent, all eyes on her. I swallowed, awkwardness seeping through me.
“We spoke about this,” the voice from the phone pressed.
“I don’t care,” she said. Her eyes flickered up from the phone, holding contact as she continued, “Calvin and I think Inés
is the best choice. This only works with her.”
My mouth went dry under her attention, the intent in her gaze piercing. Was this a favor she was doing me? A way to make up for all the history between us? Or simply good tactics? I was struggling to tell anymore.
“In fact,” she said, “everyone out.” We all looked at each other strangely, Chloe’s hands gripping the armrests on her chair.
“Me and Inés are going to talk this out. We will tell you when we come to an agreement.”
“You can’t be serious.” Her dad’s voice crackled from the speaker.
“I’ll call you back when we’ve got news.” And with that, Chloe pressed a button on the phone, ending the call. Looking at
her brother, she nodded once. Reluctantly, Calvin pushed up from his chair, taking his sister’s lead.
“This is silly. Inés, tell me you don’t want this,” Selene argued, her brows furrowed.
I only raised a hand, stopping her before she could say anything else. “It’s me and Chloe who are working together. We should
be the ones to sort this out.”
Selene tsked angrily but got up to leave. “Don’t agree to anything stupid,” she warned, before they both left. The phone rang
as the door closed, but Chloe simply hung up before pulling the cord out.
“There,” she said. “That will stop them.”
I stared at her for a moment, wide-eyed and taken aback as the door shut behind them.
“That was kind of badass,” I said, managing to blink. Chloe sat back down, a hand pushing her hair behind her ear, little
gold hoops hanging from her lobes. I’d never noticed she had her ears pierced before.
“They were driving me nuts.” She smiled softly, shaking her head as she stared at the now-silent phone. “How many more people
do you think were on that call?”
I chuckled. “At least five more. Wonder how many billable hours it will all add up to.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “When did my life become all about billable hours? My dad’s probably frothing at the mouth about now.”
She straightened, drawing herself back into the table. We sat face-to-face. “I agree with your agent. Where I stay, how I
travel, you should have the same, all costs met.”
Her offer took me by surprise, considering the argument that had gone on around us.
Cautiously, I said, “That’s rather fair of you.”
“We work together, it doesn’t have to be anything personal, so you don’t have to worry about getting along with me,” she said.
I almost wanted to argue the point, but I caught myself. We had been growing closer these last few days. On court, we’d managed
to come together and reach my first final in a long time.
Chloe continued, “We can get Selene and Calvin to work together to come up with a travel itinerary, and we can stay and prepare
for the upcoming tournaments at my place. It’s nearby.”
“Your house?” I swallowed uncomfortably. All this training together, and now staying under the same roof—wouldn’t this be
too much? Avoiding her around this place had been hard enough.
Chloe shook her head. “Don’t worry, there’s a guesthouse you can use. And it’s not like there’s a lot of time until the next
competition begins.”
I nodded, but my worry was far from gone. What if we fell out again? I guess that was the point of this agreement. We wouldn’t so much be working together as she would be my boss. And that was a terrifying prospect.
“Do you want me to sign an NDA?” I asked, remembering the earlier remarks made by the lawyers.
Chloe only leaned forward. “Do you want me to sign an NDA?”
I grimaced. “I think it seems seedy,” I answered honestly. “I don’t know why we’d include that level of security. We need
to trust each other, right?”
“I agree,” Chloe said. “Plus, I’m not sure who would want to know whatever dirt you’d be able to find. Surely nobody is interested in the fact I usually spend my free time in my pj’s, with my dog and a pint of protein ice cream.”
There was something about Chloe that easily disarmed me.
“A full pint?” I grinned. “The media will have a field day.”
“So do we have an agreement?” she asked hopefully. “You give me all the practice time with my greatest rival—”
“Is the greatest rival in the room with us now?” I interrupted.
She laughed, trying to continue with her next words. “And you’ll teach me how to beat everyone else.”
Her words struck up a curiosity I kept trying my best to ignore. “That’s what you want from me? To teach you how to beat everyone
else?”
“Yeah, why?”
I tried my best to put it into words, to try to get the truth out of her. “I don’t understand. Why me?”
“Maybe I don’t get along with anyone else?” she joked.
I motioned between us. “You realize this is the longest we’ve gone without an argument?”
“Exactly! It would be much shorter with anyone else.” She grinned playfully across the table, then rolled her shoulders back,
the mood changing. “I know I can be . . .”
“A hothead? Temperamental? Frustrating?” I finished for her.
She paused, that smile growing brighter. “All of those are better than what I was going to go with.”
“Which was?”
“A bitch,” she answered cautiously.
I tilted my head, struck by the strength of that word. “You aren’t a bitch.”
“You’ve said it before,” Chloe replied, her tone softer than I’d expected.
“I know, I—”
“I believe the term you used was massive bitch,” she interrupted, grinning.
“I was angry. And wrong,” I said. “And I’m sorry.”
She smiled, and my nerves smoothed out like a freshly rolled clay court after a rain delay.
“Can I get that in writing?” she joked.
I shook my head. “I don’t know exactly what is going through your head when you play, but you have this red haze that seems
to descend. You lose your cool.”
“My parents call it youngest child syndrome,” Chloe joked, but I could see a hint of sadness behind her eyes. Like she knew
it was something else entirely.
“Whatever it is,” I said cautiously, “that’s your biggest fault.”
“You did something the other day, while we played doubles. You talked me down.” Chloe lifted her shoulders in a shrug, as
if confessing it was the easiest thing in the world. “Nobody has ever done that before.”
I refused to overthink her words. Maybe she hadn’t ever played with people who didn’t take her shit. “Did anyone ever tell
you no growing up?”
“All the time. I hated it.” She grinned devilishly. “But that’s beside the point. Calvin saw what you did and he thinks you’re the answer.”
“And you? What do you think?” I dared to ask.
“Didn’t I make that clear already?” she said, her brows furrowed. “I agree. Usually, it’s only me and him. My family keep
me pretty close, and I think I might need some socialization.”
“To say the least,” I joked sharply, before I heard my own tone, immediately backtracking. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” She waved my words away. “Either way, what does it matter ‘why’ anymore—you’re on board, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, surprising myself with the lack of hesitation. I cleared my throat. “Yes, I am.”
“And so am I.”
“So, we agree?” I said. “Do you want to write it down? Make the lawyers happy?”
She shrugged, her gaze on me. “I think I trust you enough for a handshake.”
“A handshake?” I said, incredulous. “Are you trying to give them a stroke?”
“Yes,” she replied immediately, pushing up to stand from her chair. “Good to do business with you, Ms. Costa.”
Chloe stuck out her hand, stretching halfway across the table that still separated us. I stared at her hand for a beat. Pale
skin tanned to match mine, no doubt from hours of practice outside under the beating sun, a thin gold ring on one of her long
fingers, which were complete with perfectly manicured nails.
I reached out, my hand sliding against hers. There was an unexpected softness to her skin, despite our calluses rubbing against
each other as we shook.
And with three words, I sealed my fate. “Pleasure, Ms. Murphy.”