Chapter 16
SUTTON
My head is pounding with the kind of tension headache that starts behind my eyes and spreads like spilled ink across my skull.
I’ve been staring at budget projections for the past hour, trying to make sense of numbers that don’t want to cooperate, when my assistant’s voice crackles through the intercom.
“Sutton? Victor Lawson is here to see you.”
I freeze, my pen halfway to marking a line item. Victor. Here. Without an appointment, without warning, without any reason I can fathom.
“Send him in,” I manage, though every instinct I have is screaming to say I’m in a meeting, that I’ve left for the day, that I’ve spontaneously combusted.
The door swings open and Victor strolls in like he owns the place, all expensive suit and practiced confidence.
Some people are different after university.
They go out, become adults and their vibe shifts, but not Victor.
He’s barely changed since college—same perfectly styled dark hair, same smug smile that used to make my blood pressure spike during debate tournaments.
The only difference is the watch on his wrist probably costs more than most people’s cars now.
“Sutton,” he says, settling into the chair across from my desk without being invited. “You look...tired.”
“Victor.” I keep my voice level, professional. “You know, I didn’t need my assistant to announce you. The unmistakable waft of desperation you carry always comes first, letting me know you’re in the area.”
“I’m sure it does, if Burberry was to smell like desperation, that is.” He crosses one leg over the other, entirely too comfortable in my space. “I have some news I thought you should hear directly from me, rather than through industry gossip.”
I set down my pen and lean back in my chair, every nerve ending on high alert. Victor doesn’t make social calls. Considering the last time I saw him was post-makeout with Campbell before he slinked into an elevator, I can only guess he’s on a mission of evil, and it makes me shudder.
If he’s here, it’s because he wants something or because he’s about to drop a bomb that benefits him in some way.
I keep my face neutral. “I’m listening.”
“As you know, the announcement was made today to the press about The Dominion coming to Alexandria next season.” His smile widens, and I can practically see him savoring this moment. “And, something that’s really fun: I’m now a five percent owner of The Dominion.”
The words hit me with the force of a small truck, even though I had seen this coming.
All of the whispers at the gala and then him showing up in Harrisburg; it all makes sense now.
Of course Victor would find a way to insert himself into my professional life.
Of course he’d position himself as competition.
“Congratulations,” I say dryly. “Five percent is quite the...minority position. Do you get to vote on what coffee is served for the monthly board meeting, or maybe you get to decide on the pastries they bring in? Do tell.”
His smile falters just slightly at my emphasis on minority, but he recovers quickly. “It’s a starting position. And it comes with certain privileges. Including input on potential affiliate partnerships.”
My stomach drops. “Affiliate partnerships.”
“That’s right.” Victor leans forward, his eyes glittering with the same predatory gleam I’d see back in the day.
Only, that time, the Sterling Media internship wasn’t his to have, only his to lose.
“The Alexandria franchise is very interested in establishing a formal affiliation with the Renegades. I’m sure you’re aware that your AHL team is poised to become our primary development partner. ”
I keep my expression carefully calm, but inside I’m reeling.
Of course I’m “more than aware” an NHL affiliation would be huge for the Renegades—more funding, better resources, a clear path for our players to advance.
It’s the kind of opportunity that could transform the entire organization and it’s what we’ve been working on behind the scenes ever since the new team was a rumor.
Now that we know it’s a done deal, I’m all for it.
But it also means Victor could now have direct influence over my team.
I could freak out, but I refuse. Instead, I’m gonna play this cool. I lean forward, casually resting my chin in my hand. “And you’re here to tell me this because...?”
“Because I wanted you to know that I’ll be personally involved in the affiliation negotiations your team has been pursuing with Alexandria.”
My blood runs cold. We’ve been in quiet talks with Alexandria for weeks, carefully negotiating terms that would benefit the Renegades while maintaining our autonomy. The fact that Victor knows about it—and is now positioned to influence it—makes my stomach churn.
“How generous of you to share,” I say carefully, never mind my fingers are flexing to form a fist.
Victor’s smile turns predatory. “I thought you should know that I’ll be advocating for certain adjustments to the proposed terms. More direct oversight, enhanced player evaluation protocols, streamlined roster management.”
“The terms we’ve been discussing are already quite comprehensive,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Both organizations seemed satisfied with the framework.”
“Frameworks can evolve, Sutton. Especially when new stakeholders bring fresh perspectives.” He leans forward slightly. “I’ve been reviewing your current roster, actually. Some interesting talent. That captain of yours—Stockton—could have real potential at the NHL level.”
The mention of Campbell makes my chest tighten in a way that has nothing to do with business. “Campbell’s an exceptional player and an even better leader. The Renegades are lucky to have him under contract.”
“For now. But affiliation agreements often include provisions for accelerated call-ups. Especially for players who demonstrate, let’s say, exceptional value.
” Victor’s eyes narrow slightly. “Speaking of which, I have something I meant to ask you when I ran into you at the elevators. In Harrisburg, remember?”
I keep staring at him, looking the part on the outside, but on the inside? I’m yelling at my face to not move. “Of course I do. What’s the question?”
“I know how…hands on, I guess we can call it, you can be. So, I do hope you’re maintaining appropriate professional boundaries with your team, Sutton. Affiliation partners expect a certain level of propriety.”
Heat floods my face, part anger, part something that feels dangerously close to panic. “I don’t know what you’re implying—”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m simply noting that partnerships require a certain level of professionalism. But you know this. The kind of reputation management that your board, I’m sure, takes very seriously.”
The threat is subtle but unmistakable. Victor is going to use our run-in at the hotel as his credit card with me if he can. This slimy, greasy, piece of trash knows something, or thinks he does, and he’s not above using it as leverage.
“Well, this has been illuminating, Victor.” I stand up slowly, using every ounce of Southern belle steel my mother ever drilled into me. “While I appreciate you stopping by to share your news, I do have a team that needs to be run, so if you’ll excuse me…”
I may be gesturing toward the door, but he doesn’t move from his chair. “We should discuss this further. Perhaps over dinner? I’m sure we could find some mutually beneficial arrangements.”
“I’m sure we could,” I say pleasantly. “But I’m busy tonight.”
“Another night, then.”
“Still busy,” I say, gesturing toward the door once more. “I’ll have my legal team review any formal proposals and get back to you through appropriate channels.”
Victor finally stands, smoothing his suit jacket. “Always so formal, Sutton. Some things never change.”
“No,” I agree. “They don’t. But, hey, next time you want to stop by, make an appointment first.”
He pauses at my office door, looking back with that same smug expression. “Oh, and Sutton? I believe there are some scouts planning to attend your next home game, making the trip down from Alexandria. Good luck with that.”
And then he’s gone, leaving behind the lingering and distinct feeling that I’ve just been played.
I sink back into my chair, my headache now pounding with renewed vigor. Victor as a minority owner of the Alexandria team. An affiliation offer that could change everything for the Renegades. NHL scouts coming to evaluate my players—to evaluate Campbell.
And somehow, Victor has slimed his greasy way right into all of it. Which means he knows exactly what’s at stake.
I reach for my phone, then stop. Campbell doesn’t need to know about Victor’s visit, and the fact he suspects something.
I also don’t need to worry Campbell with the thought that Victor may have overheard us at the hotel that night.
After Victor’s veiled threat about “professional boundaries,” I’m not sure how to tell him any of it without it feeling like a swirling storm picking up speed around us.
I may not want Campbell to go for both professional and, I admit, personal reasons too, but I also am not going to be the person who stands in his way or has a hand in him missing his chance. This is huge. For everyone.
The numbers on my budget spreadsheet blur together as my headache reaches migraine territory. This day just went from difficult to potentially catastrophic.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Elle’s is reminding me that Victor Lawson has a knack of not ever showing up anywhere unless he’s absolutely certain he’s going to win.
But to win something, you have to play the game. I just wish I knew what game he was playing.