Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
SALVATORE
I’m not sure how long I stared at the door after Keeley metaphorically slammed it in my face, but it must have been a while, because by the time I broke myself out of my trance, she was long gone and the pizza was cold.
When I finally peered out my door, her office was locked up, and the lights in the hallway were off.
It was as though she’d never even been there.
A little part of me wishes that were true because what the fuck am I doing? And why am I constantly asking myself that very question when it comes to Keeley?
It’s been years since I let a woman take over my thoughts—not since Camilla, and look how well that turned out.
Yes, I have two amazing children, and an incredible grandchild because of that marriage, but while I don’t regret it, I’m the first to admit I am not cut out for relationships.
Life with Camilla was great in the early days, but when my business took off, that part of my world consumed me, and there was no work/life balance where I was concerned. It was as though life was in color, but I could only see black and white.
I was a shitty husband, father, friend, son. I hadn’t spoken to my mother for a month when she was rushed to the hospital after suffering a heart attack. And despite praying that she would survive it and give us more time, when she did, I barely changed.
It took years for me to wake the fuck up, and when I finally did, it took another few years before anyone would accept me back in their lives.
I’m only just managing to juggle family time with Paige and Isaac. There’s no way I could consider throwing someone else into the mix. Especially not Keeley. She deserves better than that. Not that she wants a relationship, but still. I can’t commit to anything, even a one-night stand.
I’m on edge when I arrive in the office the next morning—nervous to see Keeley—and I hate that I’m relieved to hear she’s working from home. Until it hits me that I’m likely the reason why.
Wes arrives just before lunch and gives me a full rundown on what he knows about Vance McMillan, and a spark of hope ignites in my chest, though it’s not without a dark shadow hovering above it.
I want Beckett Myers.
On paper, McMillan ticks all the boxes, but it’s what I can’t find that has me concerned.
Wanting to distract myself last night, I did a little digging, and the results raised more questions than anything else. There are no skeletons in his closet, no reports of playboy ways, or any of that “I’m a football star, I do as I please” gossip. He’s squeaky clean and I don’t like it.
Even Beckett, who is squeaky clean, has a past.
It took me all of five minutes to find gossip from his college days, talking about an incident with a reporter in front of his childhood home. While never charged, it’s said that Beckett punched the guy in the face when he questioned Beckett’s mom about her personal life.
A nonissue in my mind. He was protecting her, further convincing me that he’d fit in well with this team. We protect our family. I may have been absent from my loved ones, but if they ever needed me, I was there.
When it comes to Vance…there’s nothing. And that worries me because I know how easy it is to keep things quiet. I’m guilty of using my influence and money to do it myself.
Vance is from a wealthy family. Is he doing the same?
No matter what, I’m not prepared to give up on Myers. Not yet. And I have an idea to win him over. Turns out the book excerpt leak yesterday may not have been the bad thing we thought it was. It gives me a chance to lay it all on the line. To talk to Beckett knowing the controversy coming our way.
You could say, it’s going to put me ahead of the game.
If my plan works.
The airport is as chaotic as my head when I arrive in Colorado Springs ahead of my meeting with Beckett.
My phone rings as I’m exiting the arrivals lounge, and I stiffen until I see that it’s Camilla. Better her than Beckett’s agent or Wes. Ever since Beckett agreed to keep our meeting, after I all but offered my first-born child—sorry, Paige—I’ve been waiting for him to cancel.
I send Camilla to voicemail and shoot off an apology text.
She couldn’t possibly be more disappointed in me than she was when she ended our marriage, so I’ve stopped worrying about what she thinks of me now.
I actually think it’s improved our relationship.
I don’t feel guilty all the time, and she doesn’t resent me since she knows what to expect.
Doesn’t stop her from messaging me back, despite me letting her know I’d call her when I was free.
CAMILLA: Heads up… Marc got himself in a little bit of trouble again. Nothing illegal. But I know your name’s in the media again so wanted to let you know.
I was wrong. Hearing from Camilla was not in fact better than hearing from Wes.
SALVATORE: Is it public yet?
CAMILLA: Not yet. But there’s only so much I can have swept under the rug. It’s your turn now.
SALVATORE: I’m not sweeping anything away. He can face the consequences of his actions.
CAMILLA: Even if it tarnishes the D’Angelo name?
SALVATORE: Even then.
I love that kid, but he needs to learn to avoid trouble rather than driving head-on into it. We’ve been bailing him out for far too long.
CAMILLA: I’ll let him know.
Of course she will. Better to let me be the bad guy.
I pocket my phone as my driver comes into view, his professionally printed sign standing out in a sea of handwritten posters.
“Mr. D’Angelo?” he asks as I approach.
“That’s me. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too. I’m Tony. This way please.”
The icy morning air hits me as we walk away from the building, no longer in the safety of the wind barrier.
It’s cold as fuck compared to San Francisco, and I’m only now remembering I didn’t bring a coat.
I didn’t bring anything other than my laptop, notebook, and phone.
The plan is to fly in, get this deal done, and fly out.
Yes, we have Vance as a potential waiting in the wings, but I want Beckett. I was set on securing him for the team, and no asshole ex-owner is going to stand in my way.
“Still heading to the Broadmoor Hotel?”
“Yes, please.”
“With the morning rush, it’s likely to take us thirty minutes. Would you like a coffee for the drive?”
God, yes. “That would be great. Thank you.”
“Not a problem. I know a place five minutes down the road.”
I nod as Tony opens the back door of his blacked-out Audi. “I have a special in-car desk if you need it.”
“Wow. Yes, thank you.”
Tony walks around to the trunk and returns with a desk that fits perfectly in my lap while not actually resting on my legs.
I’m admiring the structure as Tony sits down in the driver’s seat. “Did you make this?”
“My son did.”
“I need one of these for home. Does he sell them?”
“No, sir. It’s a one-off. He’s a man of many talents.”
“I’ll say. Please pass on my thanks.”
Tony nods before focusing his attention on his job, while my mind flashes back to Keeley’s comment from the other night. When I told her she was a woman of many talents.
I think that’s the line that shifted the energy in the room, and it’s my fault.
When it comes to Keeley, I thought I’d drawn a deep line in the sand, placing her on the side marked “friend.” The problem is, I can’t stop fucking thinking about her as more than that, not lately anyway.
All she has to do is touch me these days and I’m picturing myself throwing her over my shoulder and taking her to bed.
I’d love to say it’s because we spend so much time together and there isn’t anyone else. Maybe I just need a good fuck? Maybe I need to relieve some tension the way only having sex can.
But…to do that, I’d need to entertain the idea of being with someone else, and at the moment, I can’t.
I may be a workaholic, but I pass by beautiful women every day—in my building, when I’m out for a run, on the goddamn magazine stand while I line up to pay for my groceries.
Without sounding too cocky, I could use my wealth to seduce almost anyone I wanted.
Almost. But while I can do that, I never would.
The thought alone makes me uncomfortable.
And not all of those feelings stem from my moral high ground.
It’s also the fact that I don’t want anyone else.
Only I don’t want Keeley either. I mean I do…but I don’t.
And that’s a fucked-up predicament to be in.
After a quick stop for coffee, we pull up in front of the Broadmoor Hotel, and I glance down at my laptop, the screen still black. I was raving about the fancy car desk, and yet, I was so far inside my head that I didn’t even use it.
Fucking Keeley.
I’d love to be annoyed, but of course, I can’t be. Nothing she does annoys me. And that’s part of the reason I don’t want to mess with what we have, with her age and brother coming in a close second.
Tony opens my door as I pack up my unused laptop, and when I step out, I find a concierge waiting for me.
“Mr. D’Angelo?”
“Yes?” I say curiously, now wondering if I’m recognizable, or if I have my name written somewhere on my clothes.
“Mr. Myers is waiting for you in our private dining room. He asked me to escort you when you arrived.”
“Thank you. Lead the way.”
“I’ll wait for you in the parking lot, sir,” Tony confirms and I smile in thanks before I leave.
We pass a tank of a man in a tight black tee and sleeve tattoos as we enter the dining room, and my brow furrows as my eyes lock on Beckett sitting alone at a table by the bar. Did he bring security?
Is this his way of saying he doesn’t trust me or my team?
Beckett glances up as I approach, and a warm smile tugs at his lips as he stands. “Mr. D’Angelo, it’s good to meet you, sir.”
“Please, call me Sal. It’s great to meet you too, Beckett. I’ve got to be honest; I was worried you’d cancel again.”
“Sorry about that, sir. I mean, Sal. If I’m being honest, the latest reports about the team freaked me out a little. I’ve been with Colorado since I was drafted. I’m ready for a change, but it has to be a change for the better.”
“I completely understand, which is why I wanted to meet with you in person. I want to lay it all out. Tell you what’s going on with the team.
The truth about management and the players behind closed doors.
Some of what I’m going to tell you isn’t even known by them.
But I’m here to gain your trust and to show you that we are not the team we’re portrayed to be. ”
“I’m listening.”
“Thank you. I’ll start by saying that the reports about our culture are utter bullshit.
At the heart of it, we’re a family-oriented team.
We have each other’s backs and protect our own.
I’m not going to sit here and pretend the controversies we’ve faced lately haven’t been warranted.
I have no intention of lying to you. But I will say that what you read on Monday was so far from the truth that it’s defamatory.
“Our previous owner—and this is the part no one else knows—drove the franchise into the ground, putting us in a hell of a lot of debt to launch his production company. And from what I’ve found out since hearing about the upcoming book, it’s not doing so well.
My guess is that he’s written this book as a way to draw attention to his new venture as a producer, and we’ve been caught in the crossfire because controversy sells.
Especially after our Super Bowl win last year.
We’re working on getting the Storm name cleared again.
But while I can’t guarantee you won’t face questions if you choose to sign with us, I can promise you that after spending five minutes with the team, you’ll be convinced you made the right choice. ”
“How can you possibly know that?”
“Because I know my players. I know my staff. And we are not who they say we are.”
“Okay.”
“There’s also a good chance we’ll make the Super Bowl again—we’ve won two in the last three years—and I happen to know that’s something you’re striving for. Can any other teams offer you that?”
“With all due respect, you can’t really offer that either. But I agree, the odds are higher.”
Beckett’s serious expression has me pausing for a beat until he finally smiles, making me relax.
“Do you have any questions for me? I’m here to provide all the answers. I’m an open book. We want you on the team. So hit me with your concerns.”
Beckett’s quiet for a beat before he leans back in his chair, visibly relaxing. “I’ve got some questions. But I promise not to take up too much of your time.”