Chapter 10 #2
And worse, the big screen above the field shows a perfect shot of the skybox at the exact moment Jake scored.
Everyone else, cheering. Me with my back turned, phone pressed to my ear, looking like I don’t give a damn about this game or this team.
Playing exactly into the narrative as the most hated man in Denver.
Fuck.
The Stormhawks finish the game with a seven-point lead, and the suite erupts all over again.
The Sullivans hug and cheer right alongside Flic, already talking about the next game.
Flic barely looks in my direction. If she’d started to soften toward me, even slightly, that thawing is now gone.
Replaced with cold distance. I don’t blame her.
I ignored her advice. I’m as pissed at myself as she is.
But she doesn’t say a word until we’re alone on the jet, heading back to Denver.
The cabin lights are on low, but it does nothing to hide the fury vibrating off Flic as she levels her gaze on me. “Was that call you took an emergency?”
“No,” I admit, feeling like shit all over again.
“I told you not to answer and you didn’t listen.”
“I know,” I reply. “And I’m sorry. It was—”
She cuts me off. “It doesn’t matter who it was. All that matters is what it looked like. And what it looked like is a new owner who doesn’t care if his team wins or loses.”
“That’s not fair,” I snap before I can stop myself. “You think I did that on purpose? It wasn’t an emergency, but it could’ve been. That’s why people answer their phones.”
She squares her shoulders. “Yeah, but right now optics matter more than intentions. You want Denver to stop hating you? Start acting like you care.”
“I do care,” I bite out, heart racing, angrier than I have any right to be.
“I’m here, aren’t I? When I have an entire company depending on me in New York, I’m here.
But you and everyone else have already decided who I am before I open my mouth.
Do you even realize I’m my own person and not just my name? ”
I pin my mouth shut before I say more. I never defend myself.
I never try to explain the difference between my father and I.
But something about the way Flic is glaring at me with anger and disappointment makes me want to rewind to that moment on the jet when I caught her looking at me.
That small, unguarded smile. Like for half a heartbeat she saw me and not the name I carry.
“Fine.” She crosses her arms. “If you have commitments in New York, why did you buy the Stormhawks? What does Grayson Global really want with an NFL team? And don’t give me that line about being part of something that matters, because right now that still sounds like—”
“Bullshit?” I cut in. “Well, it’s the truth.
You’ve just got your head so far up your ass, you don’t want to believe it,” I fire back, ignoring the small voice in my head reminding me that Flic is right.
There is more to why I bought this team, but even if I’m ready to tell her, it’s obvious from the way she’s glaring at me, she’s not ready to hear it.
“You’re still an Ashborne, Grayson. You think it’s enough to be this hot guy with a private jet? You think that impresses me? Because it doesn’t. You want respect? You want people to believe in you? Earn it.”
Her words slam into me harder than any hit I saw on the field tonight.
And then my phone rings. Flic rolls her eyes as I pull it from my pocket, like I’m proving every point she’s just made, but I can’t not answer.
I swipe the screen as Flic moves to the back of the plane and drops into a seat, shoving her earbuds in her ears.
“What’s going on?” I ask by way of hello.
“I know you didn’t want to be disturbed today,” Walt replies. Grayson Global’s chief legal advisor has the decency to sound apologetic. “But there’s an issue with Skyview,” he says, mentioning my latest New York project.
“What kind of issue?”
“The city’s reassessing the mixed-use zoning approval. They’re claiming the communal garden space alters the original plans. They want a revised submission.”
I hiss out an expletive. “That garden space was approved in principle three months ago. What are they asking for?”
“A formal review hearing,” he replies. “We’re looking at months of delays.”
“They want us to back down and change our plans because they know the delays will hurt us.”
“It will.”
“It will hurt the residents trying to live around the construction more,” I reply.
“What do you want to do?” Walt asks.
“File for the hearing. Pull every email and memo from the original approval process. If someone’s changed their position, I want it documented.”
“Understood.”
“And set up a meeting with the planning commissioner. I’ll make some calls.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“You’re still in Denver?” Walt asks.
“For now. Keep me posted,” I say fast, ending the call before Walt can remind me of all the reasons I’m needed in New York.
I barely draw in breath before I’m tapping my phone and it’s my sister’s voice I hear in my ear. “Grayson, how’s Denver?”
“Cold,” I reply, thinking of the snow as much as the reception from the fans. “You’re OK?”
“I’m fine. I was calling to warn you that our father is up to something.”
“When is he not?” I reply.
“I heard from a friend that Ashborne Holdings are circling closer to home.”
“How close?”
“New York,” she says evenly. “It felt a little close to you.”
Meaning Grayson Global. Meaning my urban redevelopment portfolio. Tension pulls tight across my shoulders. “Helena, do you still have friends in the planning commissioner’s office?”
“Of course. What do you need?”
“Find out who’s objecting to the green space in Skyview. We’ve hit a snag.”
“I’ll make some calls,” she replies.
I feel instantly lighter. Helena has always had a sharper head for long-term strategy than anyone in our family, including our father.
She’s calm, methodical, and always three moves ahead.
It’s wasted on charity galas and society lunches.
She hasn’t officially worked since she left our father’s side at Ashborne Holdings and married the man he picked out for her.
The divorce was finalized years ago, but she’s continued playing the part of New York socialite to perfection.
Effortlessly elegant and completely untouchable.
“When are you going to accept my job offer and come on board officially at Grayson Global?” I ask.
She laughs softly. It’s not the first time I’ve offered.
“You and I both know our darling father would see that as a rather public betrayal,” she says. “Neither of us need that fallout.”
I hate that she’s right. I hate even more that the one man I was supposed to love still dictates the shape of our lives.
A familiar weight returns to my already tight shoulders.
My obligations in New York pulling me one way, Denver the other, Helena needing me, Donny needing me, everyone wanting something.
And in trying to hold all of it together, I’m failing everyone all at once, and that’s not good enough. I don’t know how to fix it yet, but it’s getting harder to ignore the quiet voice in my thoughts asking me if I even can.