Chapter Thirty-Nine
Max
The Dallas franchise has gone all out for this event. Glittering diamonds dangle from chandeliers high above our heads. Scantily clad women draped in twinkling rhinestones mirror the fixtures above as they pass drinks and hors d’oeuvres. Everywhere the eye can see, the surfaces sparkle and shine.
But nothing catches my attention quite like Sutton Hart.
Dressed in a floor-length velvet gown, the shade of pink so dark it's nearly red, lips stained a matching shade and slick with gloss, she draws the eyes of every man in the room.
She hasn’t said two words to me, has barely even glanced my way—
But I can’t keep my fucking eyes off of her.
Where that deep V in the back of her dress dips down, nearly kissing the crest of her plump cheeks, I can easily imagine that flesh painted red by my palm, the way her skin goosebumps beneath the slightest brush of my fingertips, her body so reactive to even the simplest of touches.
The high neck of her evening gown may cover up her cleavage and those faint freckles that dust across her collar bones, but I can still picture that skin, red and flushed, glistening with sweat. I can recall with vivid clarity that chest rising and falling on each quick intake of breath.
She’s a masterpiece draped in velvet, but even more incredible without it.
I didn’t think my heart could break further, but seeing her here has proven just how wrong I often am. My heart lies in shattered shards around my feet.
I watch her dance to an upbeat song from the late eighties, laughing at whatever the Cowboys’ coach has said as he spins her around the floor, and I find myself wishing—and not for the first time—that it was me on the receiving end of that carefree smile.
It’s insane to me that she could be so light, so alive, while I’ve spent that last month in a depression so dark I stopped showing up to work.
In my absence, Gray did what he could to keep things running.
We acquired our first consulting firm last week.
We’re in talks with CBS about pursuing the media side of things after the first of the year.
While I drowned in my grief over losing the only woman I’ve ever loved, life went on without me.
It looks like she did as well.
“She’s breathtaking tonight.”
I jump at the sudden appearance of Mrs. Bratt, turning toward her as she sidles up beside me. She sets her martini glass beside my empty rocks glass on the bar-height table, watching Sutton for a moment longer before turning toward me.
“Mr. Cruz,” she says with a wide smile, “if I may be frank?”
My lips twitch on a smile. “By all means.”
“A woman like that won’t wait forever.”
Don’t I know it. Shaking my head, I focus on Sutton and go for honesty. “I’ve ruined my chances with her, ma’am—Mrs. Bratt.”
“Call me Cecelia, please.” She places a hand on my forearm and squeezes gently, then sighs. “I’m sorry to hear that. The chemistry between the two of you has been obvious since the moment I saw you in the same room. It’s… palpable.”
It’s more than palpable, what we have. Our chemistry is damn near explosive.
Was damn near explosive.
But that doesn’t matter. I fucked up. “She’ll never forgive me for what I did.”
She hums thoughtfully. “I don’t believe in never,” Cecelia says, making me realize I said that last part aloud. “She’s a smart woman.”
“That she is.”
“Meet her where she is.”
“Hm?” Forcing my gaze away from the woman with all eyes on her as she dances around the floor, I focus on Cecelia. “What do you mean?”
“She’s smart. Too smart for some half-assed apology.” She smiles, glancing over at Sutton, then back at me. Leveling me with a gaze that tells me she might question my intelligence, she asks, “What have you done to show her you were wrong?”
I open my mouth, then close it and run my hand over my jaw. “She won’t take my calls. She won’t respond to my texts.”
She sent multiple bouquets back.
She nearly ran me over when I tried to catch her outside of her downtown office.
Hell, even her best friend won’t speak to me.
“I don’t know what to do.”
She pats my arm, then leans in. “You’re smart, too, Mr. Cruz. You’ll figure it out.”
The song changes and Sutton barely reaches the side of the dancefloor before she’s swept into another dance with another man. I watch him sweep her around the floor, chest aching at the sight of her in arms that don’t belong to me.
In the corner of the room, Emerson catches my eye. He's gathered in the corner with his mom—I never noticed her walk away from me—and a few established Cowboys players.
I flick my gaze between the kid and Sutton as an idea takes shape in my mind.
I thought I needed him, thought the future of Apex depended on him, but the fact of the matter is that was just my pride talking. I didn’t want Apex to branch out because that’s not the image I had in my mind for the company.
But that didn’t mean that holding Apex to my chest, suffocating it, and keeping it stuck was what was best for the company. Maybe that was best for me, but not the thousands of people I employ or the players I represent.
I was so locked on that concept that I couldn’t see past my own ideals.
But for Sutton? For Hart Strategic Management? She needs that kid more than I do, that’s for damn sure.
Giving myself a quick nod, I stride across the dance floor.
Sutton’s mouth drops open as she watches me pass, but I focus on Emerson. I have to get this handled before I talk to her. The kid is all I can offer her.
I hope he fucking agrees.
He jerks his head in hello as I approach. “Hey, Max, how’s your night going?”
“May I have a word?”
Emerson’s brows lift slightly, but he nods, and everyone in the vicinity steps away from the small table where we stand. “What’s up?”
“I think you should sign with Hart Strategic Management.”
He watches me thoughtfully, but doesn’t respond.
“She’s going places, kid. She has what it takes, even if the numbers aren’t there yet.
She’s passionate and good. She’ll fight for you like no one else.
” I pound my fist against my chest. “Not even me. She’ll be there for you every step of the way because that’s who she is, you know?
Just this incredible, passionate fucking badass who won’t take shit from anyone.
” I pull in a breath, realizing too late that my eyes are wet.
But fuck it.
“She’s who you want to represent you, Emerson, not me.
” I motion around the room, to the handful of other agents in attendance.
“And not any of them. To them, you’re a series of dollar signs.
” I shrug. “That’s who you were to me, too.
Money. A way to keep Apex at the top of the Forbes list.” With a deep breath, I add, “But to Sutton? You’re so much more than a paycheck.
You’re a person, a man, someone she’ll protect fiercely because that’s who she is.
She’ll love you like a brother and fight for you like a Mama fucking bear. ”
Behind me, someone gasps, and I freeze.
Emerson’s lips twitch as his gaze flicks past me briefly, then he steps forward, clapping me on the shoulder. “I already signed with Athleticas. Your girl turned me down.”