CHAPTER 17
The searing pain slicing through Scarlett’s forehead above her left eye was just a small indication of how the past twenty-four hours had played out.
Headache after headache had unfolded at work that day, and as she got out of the taxi she had taken home, she rubbed her brow, hoping to displace some of the pressure.
What a nightmare of a day. From the moment she’d woken up in Theo’s bed and realized who he was, to the absolute mayhem at the stadium, to the dozens of phone calls she had received from news outlets and the ominous meeting Jaffi had scheduled first thing the next morning, Scarlett was surprised she only had a migraine and that her head hadn’t exploded.
Opening the door to the dark house, she realized Maxie wasn’t home. Kicking off her shoes, she dragged herself into the kitchen as the conversation she had with Dawson and Marrero that morning in her office replayed in her head.
“It wasn’t my fault. I tried to drive,” Dawson had said adamantly. “Wilkens wouldn’t give me the keys.”
“Then why would you get in the car with him?” Marrero asked.
“Because he lives near my sister, and I was trying to go to her place last night. Besides, he wasn’t that drunk—or at least, he wasn’t acting like it.”
“Oh my God,” Scarlett had mumbled, dropping her head in her hands. “You do know that other motorist is in the hospital with a broken arm, right?”
Dawson’s expression soured. “No. I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, well, the guy’s lawyer is deciding right now who they should sue, be it the team, Wilkens, or you—or maybe all three.”
“But I didn’t do anything. I was the passenger.”
“You fled the scene.”
“Because I didn’t want to get in trouble!”
“And in doing so, you’ve gotten yourself in a heap of trouble,” Marreo had snapped, standing up as she began to pace the office.
“What were you thinking? Do you even know how precarious our position here is? Chard can axe any one of us at any given time, and don’t think Jaffi hasn’t been advocating to disband this team from the get-go.
” She paused. “Now they want to meet first thing tomorrow morning, and I…” She let out a bitter chuckle. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“What about Wilkens? He was the one driving.”
“Yeah, and he was arraigned and released on bail,” Scarlett said, checking her phone to see a dozen missed calls from media outlets. “I’m sending out a statement in a few minutes. Is there anything you want to say?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For all of it.”
“You can’t say that. It’s an admission of guilt and against the organization’s protocol in these types of situations. Besides, it was Wilkens’s fault. You can say, ‘I’m sorry for the disappointment I’ve caused,’ or something like that.”
Dawson had folded her arms across her chest. “Fine. Something like that.”
Scarlett sighed as she dropped her bag on the kitchen table.
Having released a vague and mildly apologetic statement, she had set up a press conference for the following day, one that would take place after the morning meeting with Chard.
But having watched the endless news cycle regarding the accident, as well as reading far too many comments across the men’s and women’s teams’ socials, Scarlett wondered if a press conference would even help.
The fans were furious, as was the rest of the city.
There were even calls for both Miles and Dawson to be fired.
It was officially a hellscape.
A knock at the front door echoed down the hallway. Frowning, Scarlett walked toward the front of the house, somewhat confused as to why Maxie would be knocking at her own front door. But then her senses finally caught up with her. Maxie wouldn’t knock.
“Ah, who is it?” she called out.
“Theo. Ross.”
Scarlett’s eyes widened. What the hell was he doing here?
Smoothing out her shirt and tucking her hair back behind her ears, she opened the door to find Theo standing in his usual black-and-white ensemble, only this time it was a pair of jeans instead of dress pants, and he wasn’t wearing a sports jacket.
His hair was damp from the on-again, off-again rain showers that had plagued the city all day, and he was wearing that same leather jacket he had worn during his flight.
She stared at him for a moment. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?”
She blinked, then stepped to the side. “Yes, of course,” she said, allowing him to enter.
He was too tall for this place, his shoulders too wide to fit comfortably in the vestibule with her, and she was grateful when he moved into the living room.
Now she could only vaguely smell him. But she ignored that and cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to check on you.”
“Why?”
He let out a stilted sigh and gazed down at her from behind his glasses. She tried to fight off the weakening sensation in her knees.
“Because it was a difficult day on top of an interesting night.” Her cheeks warmed. “Did you hear about that meeting tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think it’s about?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sure they’re going to lay down some punishment. The ramifications are not going to be good.”
He nodded slowly, but it was obvious there were other things on his mind, and Scarlett wasn’t sure that now was the time to get into everything. God, she wished she could pause time so that she could sort it all out.
He took a tentative step toward her. “Listen, Scarlett—”
“Scarlett?” Maxie’s voice sounded from the front door. “I’m home!” She entered the living room. “Oh, and so are you. And you,” she said, staring wide-eyed at Theo. “Hello.”
“Hi,” Theo said, holding out his hand. “Theo Ross.”
“Manager of the Bees, yes I know,” she said, shaking his hand. “I’m Maxie. Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
Silence followed, and Scarlett laughed out loud at the awkwardness of it all. They both stared at her, evidently baffled, and she folded her arms across her chest.
“Theo, maybe we can discuss this stuff tomorrow? After the meeting and the press conference.”
He didn’t appear to like that idea, but then he nodded. “Sure,” he said, his tone disappointed. “Good night.”
He left the house in no particular hurry as Maxie followed and shut the door behind him. When she reappeared, she had the most stunned expression on her face as Scarlett melted into the couch, dropping her hand to cover her eyes as her headache pounded.
“Why was Theo Ross here?” Maxie asked, putting her bag down. “And what the hell happened to you last night? And what’s all this about Wilkens getting into a car crash?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
Lifting her hand to her head, Scarlett sighed. “We slept together.”
“Who? You and Wilkens?”
Scarlett made a face of disgust. “Good God no.”
“Then who?”
“Me and Theo. Last night, I went to his apartment.”
“Oh my God, are you serious?” Maxie said, sitting cross-legged on the couch. “That’s why you didn’t come home?”
“It gets better,” Scarlett said, sitting up. “Guess who Mr. Wrong Number is?”
“Who?”
Scarlett’s brows lifted, and she waited for Maxie to guess.
“What?” Maxie glanced up at where Theo had left, then back at Scarlett. Her face dropped. “No!”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Wrong Number is Theo Ross? The Theo Ross? The man you’ve been butting heads with since you got here?”
“Yes.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“And you slept with him?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Before or after you knew?”
“Before,” Scarlett said pointedly. “I wouldn’t have slept with him if I’d known.”
“Why not? I thought you liked Mr. Wrong Number.”
“I do, but it’s a little complicated now, isn’t it?”
“I guess so.” Maxie let out a low whistle. “Did you tell him?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because before I could even wrap my head around it, I saw the news, and I’ve been putting out fires all over today, and now we have this big meeting tomorrow with Chard, and I can’t even focus on my own stuff, but it turns out my own stuff is my work stuff, and I don’t know what to do now.”
Maxie was quiet for a moment.
“You have to tell him.”
“Of course I do. But how? And when? There’s so much going on right now, and I don’t even know how to handle this.” Scarlett let out a pathetic whimper. “Maxie, can you be me for the next forty-eight hours and handle everything, please?”
“Ha. No, thank you. But I do feel for you,” Maxie said, patting her leg. “Do you want a cup of tea?”
“No. Thanks, though.”
“Well, maybe you best take a shower and go to sleep. It might all seem a little more manageable in the morning.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, but that’s what my mum always used to say.”
Scarlett sighed, then she sat up and did just that.
She took a shower, got into bed, and made sure to leave her phone downstairs in the kitchen.
But it wasn’t a restful night. In fact, it was one of those sleeps where you closed your eyes and it felt like only a second had passed before you opened them again and it was morning.
Having dressed in one of her most professional outfits, Scarlett made sure that her hair and makeup were perfect before heading out.
If she was going to be on camera today, she wanted to look her best, and nothing boosted her confidence quite as much as pulling out all the stops.
Wearing wide-leg white pants and a black turtleneck, hair gathered back in a high bun, and pointed black heels, she was ready to face whatever issues were coming her way.
By the time she reached the stadium, a swarm of camerapeople and reporters were hovering around the front entrance, trying to interview incoming players and staff members. Scarlett was able to squeeze in without much ado after showing her ID badge. After entering, she saw a line of security guards.
“Why aren’t they being brought up to the media room?” she asked one of them, but the big, bald man shook his head.
“The meeting is at nine o’clock. They’re early.” He glared out the glass doors. “Bloody vultures.”