Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
SALVATORE
The second my office door closes, the smile drops from my face and I sink back against the wall, closing my eyes.
Another day, another goddamn press conference. Only this one wasn’t like the others.
One second I’m defending Zane’s honor, despite believing everyone had finally moved on, and the next my integrity’s in question.
All because some dickhead decided to look into my past, mentioning my once fractured relationship with Paige, accusing me of focusing more on the players on my team and my job over my own family.
And the worst part is he wasn’t fucking wrong. Back then at least. Now it’s different.
I know my faults; I own them. A comment like that wouldn’t normally get me enraged like it did, except that he also asked about the impending court case for the Mikklesons—Paige’s ex-boyfriend’s dad and uncle.
A case I might have to testify in. A case she might have to testify in. And it completely rattled me.
When Paige first moved to San Francisco, she was being blackmailed by her ex’s family, the Mikklesons.
All because she’d overheard her ex-boyfriend’s mom and aunt talking about some of his dad and uncle’s illegal dealings within their company.
Since our relationship was still a little fractured at the time, she didn’t tell me what was going on.
Instead, she decided to hire my private investigator, Austin, to dig around for proof that she could take to the police.
Being the strong, sometimes stubborn woman that she is, it wasn’t until she was worried about her mom that she finally confided in me. As it turned out, Camilla had been sleeping with Gabriel Mikkleson, Paige’s ex-boyfriend’s dad.
The last thing Paige needs is to be thrown into the spotlight again when she’s finally managed to find herself a semi-private life. As private as one can get in a high-profile relationship. These days, she controls the narrative, and I want to keep it that way.
What the hell is wrong with people?
How can they care so little about another person’s feelings?
My cell rings at the same time my assistant buzzes my desktop phone, and I snap out of my mood. I’ve got shit to do and no time to wallow.
I answer my cell as I stride toward my computer, messaging Tabitha to ask her what she needs before spending the next hour putting out fires.
Client conflicts at D’Angelo Construction—the business I’m still meant to be running in New York.
Salary cap budget restraints.
Sponsors questioning whether or not they want to continue to support the team.
My ex-wife panicking over our son’s recent headline.
I’ve just hung up with my fourth call in the last twenty minutes when someone knocks on the door, and I silently groan, banging my head onto my desk. “I’m not here,” I call out, assuming it’s Tabitha again.
“For me, you are. I’m coming in.” My head snaps up at Keeley’s voice and my mood lifts.
“What makes you think you’re so special?” I ask as I get up from my desk and walk toward the door, instantly regretting my words since I’ve yet to figure out if we can joke anymore.
“We both know the answer to that.” Keeley winks and I relax. “Now move out of the way; I need to sit down.” She ducks under my arm, and her wildflower perfume assaults my nose, the familiar scent working like a drug, warming me as I breathe her in.
“That was awful this morning, but you handled it well. How are you feeling?” She launches straight into work talk as she sits down on my couch, and though it shouldn’t, it catches me off guard.
I close my office door and hover near the entry, hesitating as far away as possible.
We haven’t been alone in my office since I kissed her weeks ago, and for some reason, I assumed this moment would play out differently.
Our working relationship may have returned to normal, but this office will never be the same. “I’m fine,” I recover, lying. “As you said, I handled it, and we can move on.”
“Can we?”
“Yes.”
“Sal, I was calling your name from the moment you walked away and you didn’t hear me. The only reason I didn’t barge in here sooner was because Wes needed me.”
“Come on.” I finally leave my position near the door, walking behind my desk. “That didn’t happen.” It’s not possible. Keeley only has to whisper and I pay attention.
“You’re allowed to admit when something affects you.”
“I’m fine,” I growl, standing taller as though that will prove my point. “Zane’s the one you should be worried about. They ripped him to shreds back there.”
“No, they didn’t. They tried. You protected him.”
Of course I did. Apparently being cleared of any wrongdoing in Landon’s death means nothing to the media, along with some of our less forgiving fans.
Zane’s been forced to relive every dark moment of his past over and over since the case was ruled an accident, and I have to give him credit—he’s handling it better than I would.
Although, for all I know, he’s slamming the door when he gets home, wanting to bang his head against the wall like I am.
I’m thankful he has our team to support him. And, as Keeley’s gaze softens, as though privy to my inner musings, I’m grateful I have her.
If anyone truly believes that women are the lesser sex, they are sorely mistaken. The women in my life are among the strongest people I know. Men, including me, would be lost without them.
“I did what anyone would have done in my situation.” I shrug and Keeley scoffs incredulously.
“Sal, they brought up Paige and Camilla.”
“They did,” I say calmly, thinking back to the moment they mentioned my ex-wife. “I handled it. Now it’s time to move on.”
“You can hide your feelings from the world as much as you want. You can’t hide them from me.”
“I’m fine. Was it shitty to have my faults thrown in my face? Yes. Of course it was. Doesn’t mean I have to dwell on it after.”
“If that’s what you want, I’ll drop it. After one last point.”
I glance her way, my lips curling into a small smile.
“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t always have more to say.”
“Exactly. And you better damn well listen.”
“I always do.”
“Good.” She stands up, walking toward my desk, and I subtly step back. “You are not the man they described back there. That’s the Sal from five years ago. Don’t let those fuckers get to you.”
“It was probably closer to three years if we’re being honest, but who’s counting?”
I wink and Keeley’s lips press together in a frown, but she lets me off the hook, dropping the issue as promised, both of us falling back into a comfortable existence, and an ease takes over me.
I’ve always been able to go it alone, to get things done, to do what I had to do without getting others involved. And I liked it that way. Until I didn’t. Now, I have to admit, it’s nice having a teammate.
It’s nice getting to share the load.
Zane’s a formidable force over the next couple of months, and while football is a team sport, he’s a big contributor to our success in the lead-up to the playoffs.
I’d go so far as to say he channeled his rage into the game, and it shows.
With the media furor surrounding Landon’s death finally dying down—now that they have other topics to focus on—we’re all working hard to put that chapter behind us.
If only I could put all the Storm chaos behind me. Instead, I have new problems to tackle almost every day, each accompanied by a giant billboard that says, “you can’t avoid this anymore” and a flashing red danger sign.
I used to think Paige would be the death of me. Now I’m not so sure. The Storm franchise is working its way up to that top spot.
As though my thoughts conjured her, Paige calls as I’m hanging up with the Storm chief financial officer, and I smile as I answer. “Hey, Kid. How’s your day?”
“Busy as always with an almost five-year-old. How are you?”
“Busy as always surrounded by five-year-olds.”
“Oh, dear. Who was it this time?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’d much rather talk about the almost five-year-old that can actually do things that are asked of him.”
“There’s a bit of a difference between brushing your teeth and running a billion-dollar empire.”
“Hey, I’m the one running those empires. Their jobs are to control their fucking departments. Oh, ship, you don’t have me on speaker, do you?”
“Nope, I learned my lesson the hard way. Let’s just say that Isaac doesn’t say ‘ship’ when something goes wrong.”
“Ah, fudge. I’m sorry.”
“No need to be. It wasn’t you. It was Mom.”
“Oh, good.”
“Good?”
“Yep. I want to be the favorite grandparent on your side.”
“I’m happy to hear that because Isaac asked if you could come over for dinner tonight. He said something about a secret club?” Her voice is hesitant, and I laugh out loud for the first time in what feels like weeks.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s no club.”
“What did he say?” Isaac’s sweet little voice filters in from the background, and my heart fills with so much love.
“He said there’s no club,” Paige tells him, and I bite back a smile.
“Good. Is he coming over?”
“I sure am. Give me an hour.”
“He’s coming.”
“Yay.” Isaac’s cheers work to chip away at the wall I’d erected to get through this week, and I make a mental note to thank him for it.
“I’ll see you soon.”
“Thanks, Dad. Maybe you can stay after he’s gone to sleep? We can chat about your work?”
“We’ll see. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
After hanging up with Paige, I have another three calls that threaten to bring down my mood, but it doesn’t work. I’m off to see my little man, and nothing is going to affect me.
Since Paige and Easton gave me a key, I announce myself on my arrival then listen out for Isaac’s footsteps as he runs toward me.
“Poppy!” He skids to a stop, with his socks gliding along the floor, and when he reaches me, I swoop him up into my arms.
“Careful, old man, you wouldn’t want to break something.” Paige appears at the end of the hall, welcoming me with her sassy grin.
“Who are you calling old? I still hit the gym five times a week. I can keep up with the best of them.”
“What gym are you using? Because you don’t use the one here.”
“He uses the one at the stadium.” Easton appears behind her, his expression stoic as he leans against the wall. “I can vouch for him. I’ve witnessed it with my own eyes,” he says matter-of-factly and Paige snorts.
“Suck-up,” she jokes, making me chuckle.
“Why would he need to suck up? It can’t be because of you. You never listen to my opinion.”
“You’re right. I was referring to you being his boss.”
I internally cringe, shifting in place as I smile through it. Another reminder of why I should never have kissed his sister.
“Easton has nothing to worry about,” I tell Paige, pulling myself from my thoughts. “I don’t make player cuts.”
Isaac’s eyes bounce between us all until he grabs my face and draws my attention his way, seemingly over the ridiculous adult conversation. “It’s time for the club,” he whispers loudly, his eyes flashing back to his parents. “They still don’t know.”
That may be true for now, but they’ll know by the end of the night, because from the look on Paige’s face, she is not letting me leave until I’ve explained myself.
I shrug at Paige, feigning ignorance before turning back to Isaac. “Let’s go to our base. They won’t hear us in there.”
Isaac and I play secret spies in our secret club until we’re called for dinner, and as soon as we’re finished, we continue our game until it’s Isaac’s bedtime.
The game’s not overly innovative or complicated—all we do is make up our own little spy adventures—but it’s ours, and I missed out on games like this with my own kids.
Something I’ll regret for the rest of my life.
I don’t check my phone until I’m back in my apartment—only ever completely switching off like that when I’m with Isaac—and I find a message from Keeley.
KEELEY: I came by to ask about the budget meeting just now and to my utter surprise… you weren’t there. On a school night
I smile to myself as I respond before setting up my laptop for a night of work.
SALVATORE: Shocking, I know. I was with Isaac. Just got home.
KEELEY: Did you play secret club?
What?
SALVATORE: YOU KNOW ABOUT THE CLUB?!
I chuckle to myself, picturing Paige’s face when she finds out Keeley’s involved too. I snuck out before she could ask about it tonight, mostly because I could tell that she and Easton were both tired, so I’m waiting for her to call me.
KEELEY: I do. Isaac accidentally mentioned it when I was there yesterday. He panicked at first because he said it was supposed to be something between the two of you
Oh, shit. Poor Isaac.
SALVATORE: …
KEELEY: Don’t worry though. I put his mind at ease. I told him you and I play secret club too
I choke on thin air, coughing as I reread the message. What the fuck, Keels?
SALVATORE: Thanks.
I think?
What do I even say to that? And why has my mind gone somewhere it absolutely shouldn’t? She’s clearly joking, and yet, now I have our kiss back in the front of my mind. Not that it ever really left.
Keeley sends me back a laughing emoji, and since I have no clue what the hell she means by it, instead of replying, I distract myself with work.
Maybe it’s not Paige or the Storm drama that’s going to kill me. Maybe it’s Keeley.