Extra Epilogue
DAKOTA
Mornings in the Yarrow house were never quiet. The sound of cartoons mixed with Ames’s low rumble as he tried to wrangle two miniature tornadoes into something resembling readiness for school.
“Shoes,” he barked, pointing at our youngest son, who was still running barefoot around the kitchen.
“I’ll do it,” Renata grumbled with an eye roll. At almost ten, she had just enough attitude for me to worry if we were going to survive the teenage years. Especially once she discovered boys and her daddy wanted to keep her locked in the house.
“Need cookies for my class,” Austin announced before shoving a half a slice of toast in his mouth.
I put the lid on my travel mug and turned toward my middle child. “When?”
He chewed and swallowed before answering, “Tomorrow.”
I heaved a sigh of relief that it wasn’t this morning, which had happened before. “You need to let us know sooner about stuff like this.”
“But it’s not for today.”
Ames slid his palm down my spine, soothing some of my frustration. “You did better than last time, buddy. But next time, how about you tell us the same day you find out, okay?”
“I’ll try,” he mumbled around the last of the toast.
Our life was chaotic with three kids less than four years apart, Ames getting close to retiring from football, and my career. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
But I could use as much calm as I could get this morning since I had a meeting with the big bosses at K-Corp today. Luckily, I had a husband who knew what I needed without me having to ask.
Clapping his hands together, he called, “Get your butts in gear! I’m doing drop off this morning, so give your mom a kiss and grab your backpacks. We’re leaving in five minutes whether you’re ready or not.”
While our children scrambled for their bags, he gently turned me around and dropped a kiss on my mouth. “Don’t be nervous. They’re lucky to have you, and they know it.”
I couldn’t really argue with that logic when the billionaire owners of K-Corp had treated me very well in the years since they hired me.
And not just because Justice’s son-in-law owned the team Ames played for and knew my husband would kick his butt if I was mistreated in any way while at work.
I was darn good at my job and had grown my client list to the point where I managed accounts for more football players than anyone else in the business. By a lot.
With Ames’ words in mind, I walked into the conference room an hour later without any hint of the nerves I’d been feeling earlier. Seeing Justice at the table reminded me of my interview a decade ago. Except this time he was sitting with his brother instead of someone from HR.
Thatcher greeted me first. “Good morning, Dakota.”
Justice dipped his chin and murmured, “Morning.”
“Good morning.” I took the chair across from them and sat down. I had no reason to be nervous, but my hands were trembling, so I folded them in my lap.
“Congratulations are in order.” Justice opened the folder in front of him and pulled a sheet of K-Corp letterhead out. “You’ve officially joined the Billion Dollar Club.”
My brows drew together. “Pardon?”
Ames and I had a healthy portfolio, but our net worth was only about halfway to ten digits if I included our house and everything we owned.
“With the newest client you landed, you have more than a billion in assets under management,” Thatcher explained.
I’d known I was close but hadn’t factored in the transfer that just came through yesterday for the bulk of the signing bonus the first round draft pick had received.
His coach had steered him my way, and his mom had told him to invest everything left after he paid off her mortgage and bought himself a house and new car.
“Which is why we want to promote you to head up a new division we’re creating to focus on our sports clients.” Justice slid the paper across the table to me. “You’ll oversee our growing roster of high-profile athletes, beyond football players.”
Thatcher nodded. “We got a call from the head coach of the Navigators. He wants to send a few of us guys to us, so I’m sure you’ll soon become the preferred money manager for the hockey league, just like you’ve done with football.”
“But as a Managing Director,” Justice added.
I skimmed the offer letter, my breath catching in my chest when I saw how much I’d be earning with the promotion. Between the base salary and bonuses, I’d earn two million a year, and my share of the carry could add several million dollars to my annual income. “Wow.”
Justice tapped out a quick text before saying, “You earned every penny of that offer.”
There was a knock at the door, but it swung open before we had the chance to respond. I wasn’t too surprised when Ames walked in. The professional and personal lines had been blurred pretty much since day one with Lennox owning the Nighthawks.
He headed for my side of the table and took the chair next to me. “Congratulations, baby.”
“Thanks.” I looked down at the job title that was the culmination of everything I’d been working toward for a decade. “But—”
“No ‘buts’ about it, baby.” He brushed a quick kiss against my lips. “Justice had a hunch you’d be worried about juggling new responsibilities and our family, so I wanted to be here to make sure you don’t let a second of doubt creep in. Take the job, and we’ll figure it out.”
I peered up at him. “Are you sure?”
“Yup.” His lips curved into a teasing grin. “It’ll be good that you’re earning the big bucks when I retire soon.”
“Not too soon,” Justice grumbled.
There was a beat of silence as my husband and I stared into each other’s eyes. Then I nodded, and Ames announced, “Next season is my last.”
He’d brought up retirement a few times over the past summer. He was feeling his age more now that he was close to forty, and there were only a handful of offensive lineman who’d hit that milestone while still playing.
Justice shook his head with a sigh. “Dammit.”
I signed the offer letter and slid it back toward him. “At least you’re not losing me too.”