Chapter 60
Chapter Sixty
Decker
Penelope was worried. I saw it on her face after I showered and told her I’d be back before pick-up.
Nothing will stop me from giving a piece of my mind to that prick. I probably should calm down more, but I’m thinking retirement looks good right about now.
Sutter is staying at the Langham. Not surprising. It’s the best hotel in Chicago.
I text him from the lobby.
I’m downstairs. Coming up.
Graham Sutter: (thumbs up emoji).
He probably thinks I’m here to shake hands and agree to his offer.
I ride the elevator up, trying to cage my rage so I can manage to have a conversation with him.
The hallway is quiet the way expensive hotel hallways always are. Thick carpet, low lighting, expensive paintings on the walls. I find his room number and knock twice.
He opens it, wearing an expensive dress shirt, jacket off, the ease of a man settling in for a celebration. His smile is already in place. It looks a little more practiced now.
“Decker.” He steps back to let me in. “Champagne is on the way.”
“Why do you want me?” The heat already present in my tone tells me there’s no way this will be a calm conversation.
I step inside, but I don’t sit. I stand in the middle of his hotel room with my hands in my pockets so I won’t get arrested for assault.
He turns from the door. The smile stays in place but the quality of it changes, the way lighting changes when a cloud moves past the sun. Same light, different temperature.
“Let’s talk through whatever concerns you have,” he says. “The offer is strong. I heard the Trojans are pulling at you, but New York—”
“It’s not about New York. It’s not about the offer or the money or the position.” I look at him steadily. “Why me?”
His face goes very still for a beat, then he smiles again and raises his hands. “You got me. I have a little competition with Shane Whitaker. He’s an idiot for not re-signing you. I’d like to prove to him how wrong he was.” He smiles as though that would satisfy me.
“No. I mean, why would you want me when they’d be coming with me?”
“Who?” Still playing stupid, I see.
“I know who you are to her,” I say. “I know what you did. So I’m not here to sign with you because I will never play for a man who wrote a check to make his daughter go away.”
He sets down his drink and still has the nerve to hold the same arrogance he did at the restaurant. “I see Penelope broke her NDA. That’s serious legal exposure. I’d think carefully about—”
“Don’t.” I step toward him. Not threatening.
Just removing the comfortable distance he’s used to operating from.
“Don’t finish that sentence. Don’t call a lawyer.
Don’t send her a letter.” I hold his gaze.
“Because if you try to enforce that NDA, I will make sure every person in this league knows exactly who you are. Think about that story, Graham. You were probably, what? In your late forties at the time? A woman barely out of college. A child you denied and paid off to make disappear.” I give him time to really think about it.
“Imagine what the media would do with that story. Imagine how New York would feel.”
His jaw tightens.
“It wouldn’t be good,” I say. “For you.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. The only sound is the hum of the hotel heater.
“You’re making a mistake,” he says finally. “The offer is genuine. Whatever you think of me personally—”
“Personally? You have to be joking. She’s mine. They are mine. And I will never regret not playing for you.”
Something flickers behind his eyes, and I’m certain he knows how serious I am.
“This is done. Don’t test me, because if you go after her, I go after you. Stay the fuck away from my wife and my daughter.” I turn and stalk toward the door.
Once the door closes behind me, I draw in a deep breath in an attempt to calm the adrenaline coursing through me and demanding an outlet.
As soon as I’m outside the hotel and my anger has dissipated, I call Penelope.
“Done,” I say when she answers.
A rush of breath. “Are you okay? Did you hit him?”
I look up at the Langham once, still tempted to go back up there and knock him out. Then I look away from it because he doesn’t deserve any more of my attention.
“Unfortunately, no,” I say. “But I’m good. I’ll be home in twenty minutes.”
“Do you mind getting Hazel? I had to run out to do an errand.”
I frown. “Where? I’ll meet you.”
“No, I’ll be home soon.”
“Okay.” Something sounds off. “I love you.”
“I love you. See you soon.”
I put my phone in my pocket and slip into an Uber, determined to put this all behind me, but very aware I still don’t know where I’m playing next year.