CHAPTER 2
THE ARRANGEMENT
ALEX
Olivia’s pulse had been fast beneath my thumb, but her eyes had not shown fear.
That was the problem with her.
She walked toward danger because she believed naming it made it smaller.
She had done it at nineteen when she challenged her father in a room full of executives.
At twenty-two when she stepped between me and Robert Carter during the worst disciplinary hearing of my career.
And now, at twenty-five, in a service tunnel where a man had bled at my feet and someone had photographed her from inside the wall.
I wanted to put her in a locked car, send her somewhere Parker could not reach, and stand in front of the only road leading in.
The fact that she would hate me for it did not make the idea less appealing.
Coach Davis led us through a maintenance corridor to the equipment manager’s office. He locked the door, pulled the shade over the narrow window, and turned on a white-noise machine used during confidential contract meetings.
Olivia noticed it immediately.
“You have a machine for this?” she asked.
Mark lowered himself into the chair behind the desk. “Professional hockey produces more secrets than goals.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
I checked the room twice. One camera in the corner, disconnected. No vents large enough for a microphone. No second exit.
Olivia watched me work.
“You do that everywhere?”
“Only places I intend to survive.”
“Charming.”
I ignored the way her voice made the back of my neck tighten.
She had changed since leaving Chicago. The obvious things were easy to catalogue.
Her hair was shorter, falling just below her shoulders instead of to her waist. Her body had the same graceful lines, but she carried them differently now.
Less like a woman trying not to take up space in her father’s organization.
More like someone who had built a life where no one could ask her to shrink.
What had not changed was the look she gave me when she thought I was lying.
She folded her arms. “Start with Richard Parker.”
“No.”
Her mouth flattened.
Mark muttered, “That went well.”
“I want Ben’s location confirmed first.” I called him again.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“What?”
The irritation in his voice was the best sound I had heard all night.
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
“Lock the door.”
“It is locked.”
“Check.”
A pause.
“You know,” Ben said, “most brothers open with hello.”
“Check the door.”
“I checked it when I came in.”
“Do it again.”
Olivia looked away, but not before I saw recognition. She had heard the control in my voice. Probably heard Ben’s exhaustion too.
A deadbolt slid over the phone.
“Happy?” Ben asked.
“No. Do not open it for anyone. I’m sending someone.”
“Alex—”
“Ben.”
The line went quiet.
He had hated that tone since he was sixteen. It had also kept him alive when our father came home looking for a fight.
“Fine,” he said. “But if you send one of the giant idiots from your team, I’m charging you for groceries.”
“Luke is coming.”
“Luke doesn’t speak.”
“That is why I trust him.”
I ended the call and sent Luke Anderson a message. He replied with one word.
Address.
Olivia’s gaze remained on me.
“What?”
“You did not ask whether Ben wanted someone there.”
“He is being watched.”
“That does not mean you stop asking.”
“It means I stop pretending the answer matters more than keeping him alive.”
Her expression cooled. “That is exactly what men say when they want control to sound noble.”
I stepped closer before I could decide not to.
“And that is exactly what people say when they have never had to choose between someone’s anger and their funeral.”
The words landed. Her eyes sharpened, but she did not retreat.
Mark cleared his throat. “I would enjoy watching the two of you destroy each other under different circumstances. Tonight, Parker is the priority.”
Olivia looked at him. “Then explain.”
Mark’s silence stretched.
I answered because she was going to keep cutting until someone bled truth.
“Parker was the Titans’ chief financial officer for eleven years. He handled foundation accounts, player-development funding, insurance settlements, and half the money Robert did not want discussed in board meetings.”
“My father said he resigned for health reasons.”
“Your father lies professionally.”
“Alex.”
“He does.”
Mark leaned forward. “Six years ago, Parker was removed after an internal dispute. The details were sealed. Robert told the league it involved accounting irregularities. Parker claimed he was being blamed for decisions Robert authorized.”
“And you know this because?”
“I was assistant coach then. Players hear what executives think stays upstairs.”
Olivia looked at me. “Where do you fit?”
“Three weeks ago, Parker approached Ben outside his graduate program.”
Her attention sharpened. “Ben is in graduate school?”
“Public policy.”
“You never told me.”
“You never asked.”
The answer sounded harsher than I intended.
Her face closed by a fraction.
Three years and she still expected some version of friendship from the man who drove her out of the city. I had no right to resent that she stopped asking about my life after I taught her not to.
I pulled out my phone and showed her the first message Parker had sent.
A photograph of Ben entering a university building. Beneath it: ASK HIM ABOUT EVAN HALE.
Olivia read the name aloud. “Who is that?”
“We don’t know.”
“That is not true.”
“It is.”
“Then why did the man in the tunnel think you would beat him for saying it?”
I had not told her that part.
The man’s name was Gerard Mills. Former Titans security contractor. Fired eighteen months ago for selling access credentials. He had followed Ben twice, then left a photograph of a medical file beneath his windshield wiper.
The name EVAN HALE had been visible across the tab.
I had arranged tonight’s meeting because Gerard claimed he wanted money in exchange for the file. Instead, he demanded I bring Robert. When I refused, he mentioned Olivia’s return and Ben’s schedule.
Then I broke his nose.
“I knew the name was connected to a medical file,” I said. “Nothing else.”
Olivia studied me. “How many times did you hit him?”
“Enough.”
“That is not a number.”
“It was not a negotiation.”
“Everything is a negotiation until someone like you decides it isn’t.”
Heat moved under my skin.
I could still feel the imprint of her wrist in my palm. Still see my blood on her. I wanted to tell her that Gerard had smiled while describing the route she took from the hotel to the gala. That he knew which apartment she had rented. That violence had felt less like a choice than breathing.
Instead I said, “You saw the result.”
“I saw you enjoying it.”
I did not deny that.
Some men deserved pain. Pretending otherwise had never made me moral.
Mark opened a drawer and removed a paper file. “The access logs from tonight.”
He placed them on the desk.
Olivia moved beside him, immediately scanning dates and codes. “The service door opened at ten twenty-nine with a master credential.”
“Assigned to?” I asked.
“Executive security.”
“Your father’s people,” I said.
Her eyes lifted. “Or a copied credential.”
“Possible,” Mark said. “But the camera system was put into maintenance mode from an administrative terminal.”
“Which terminal?”
“Not recorded.”
Olivia gave him a hard look. “That is convenient.”
“It is terrifying,” Mark corrected.
She paced once across the small office, thinking. I remembered that habit. Olivia never paced aimlessly. She organized facts through movement.
“Someone knew I would be at the gala,” she said. “That is not difficult. My father announced it to half the league.”
“They knew you would use the service elevator,” I said.
“I did not know I would use it.”
“Then someone manipulated the route.”
Her gaze snapped toward me.
I continued. “The main elevator stopped on thirty-two when you left the ballroom.”
“How would you know?”
Because I had watched her leave. Because I had noticed the moment she disappeared from the donor’s hand at her elbow. Because monitoring Olivia had become instinct years before I admitted what it meant.
“I saw the display,” I said.
“Of course you did.”
Mark looked between us. He knew better than to comment.
Olivia pulled up the gala schedule on her phone. “The main elevator was reserved for the commissioner at ten thirty. Someone from events would have directed guests to the service elevator.”
“Who?”
She searched her messages. “My father’s assistant sent the notice.”
“Call her.”
“No.”
The refusal came too quickly.
I moved closer. “Why?”
“Because if we are right, every call becomes a warning.”
I felt something dangerous that had nothing to do with attraction.
Approval.
Olivia did not think like Robert. She thought like someone who expected power to hide its fingerprints.
She looked at Mark. “I need access to the gala planning files, security schedules, foundation accounts, and Parker’s termination records.”
Mark laughed once. “You need a court order and a miracle.”
“I am Robert Carter’s daughter.”
“That helps with the miracle.”
I leaned against the desk. “You cannot walk into your father’s office and ask for Parker’s records.”
“I know.”
“You will tell him.”
“I will investigate him.”
The words changed the air.
Even Mark looked surprised.
Olivia’s expression did not move. “The threat names my father. The disabled security system belongs to his organization. Parker’s history is tied to him. Until I know whether Robert is being targeted or protected, he cannot know what we found.”
It should have been satisfying to hear her distrust him.
It wasn’t.
Robert Carter had failed Olivia in a hundred quiet ways. He still loved her. Men could do both. I knew that better than most.
“What do you want from me?” I asked.
Her eyes narrowed. “That sounded almost cooperative.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Then we remain consistent.”
She came to the desk and placed both hands on the file.