Chapter 22
22
JOBE
My cell buzzes on the bedside table with an incoming call.
I barely open my eyes to read Franklin’s name on the screen. While it’s a reasonable time of the evening, it’s not even dawn in London.
“This better be good,” I murmur in an attempt not to wake Zara, who is sleeping beside me.
“I checked the pilot’s schedule with the jet, and there is no mention of you returning this week.”
“I have a shit ton of work to do here before I return. I’ll be home for Christmas, so if Mom is questioning my absence, you can explain the importance of my presence in London.”
“This is the last home game before Christmas, and the entire family is expected to attend. It’s important as owners of the team, and you should support your brother.”
I groan out a sound of inconvenience. “What day?”
“Tomorrow night. ”
I sit upright in the bed. “By tomorrow night in LA, are you implying tonight in London time?”
“Why do you think I’m calling? This game should be on your calendar.”
“I have other priorities in my calendar, and none are fun,” I snap, throwing back the bed sheets and heading to the bathroom. “Do you have the pilot’s schedule on your screen?”
“I do, and I have already added a flight that will leave in two hours. Be on it, Jobe,” he warns, ending the call, and I toss my cell onto the counter, both hands gripping the marble. I stare into the mirror, then bow my head, taking deep breaths to calm my thoughts. I’m feeling pulled in multiple directions when all I want to do is lie in bed for another hour with my girl.
After showering and throwing a few things in a case, I kiss Zara on the cheek. I’ll send a text to her when I’m on the plane explaining why I had to rush away and promise to be back by the end of the week.
The moment the jet touches down in LA, my driver is waiting to take me straight to the LA Sharks arena. I stride past security and receive their nod of acknowledgment. I’m ushered toward the VIP area where the rest of my family awaits. Penny spies me first and waves.
She’s sitting beside Franklin, her father on his other side. Her mother, I assume, is home with their baby. In the row of seats behind them is Charlotte and my parents. After greeting everybody and shaking hands, I take a seat beside Charlotte. She takes my hand and squeezes it.
“I’m so glad you made it, Jobe.” Her eyes dart over my face, an anxiousness rarely seen in her .
Fuck. I forgot about the shitshow that went down here while I was away. Charlotte and the Aussie were hooking up behind Byron’s back. Byron had one rule. No one on the team was to touch his sister. It was the way he discovered their secret that pissed him off. They were the two people he trusted most, and from all accounts, he has barely spoken to either of them since.
I place my other hand over hers. “How are you holding up?” I imagine how hard it is for her being caught in the middle of a feud between our brother and her boyfriend.
“I’m nervous as hell for both of them, but we need this win. As long as they are professionals on the court, I’ll deal with everything later.” She’s not looking at me, her gaze is directed at Brandon.
“You like him a lot?” I ask.
Her gaze flicks back to me, and she looks puzzled. “Of course. We were planning a future together.”
Already?
“Hasn’t it only been a few months?”
She shakes her head. “We’ve been seeing each other on and off over the years. We only became serious in the past six months. We were friends first, remember? It was an easy transition because we already knew each other.”
Charlotte is not even twenty-five, and yet she knows what she wants in love. I understand why she kept their relationship a secret. I’m protecting what Zara and I have without the influence or interference of anyone else or their opinion on the matter. While we explore our feelings, it has to be about us and no one else.
The music ramps up, and lights flash around the arena, skimming over the crowd screaming with delight at the Los Angeles home team. It’s a full house, and the noise is deafening. Charlotte screams out for her brother. She gives equal cheer to Brandon Johns .
“How is BJ?” I ask her. I know my brother is pissed, but he has the support of his family and the team. The Aussie only had us, and if I were to make a choice, it would be family.
“He’s okay. He’s focused on the win.”
I nod. While I don’t follow sports, when my family became the team’s owners, I understood the importance of supporting the LA Sharks because a premiership would be a huge financial gain. And my brother would reach a milestone in his professional basketball career.
For the next two quarters, I clap and cheer, watching my brother and the Aussie dominate the court. While they are both stars in their own right, there is something off tonight. It’s like they are competing against each other.
Halfway through the third quarter, we are up by eleven points. Byron attempts to pass it to Brandon, but then our big guy, Jye, rolls toward the basket.
“Pass it to BJ,” Charlotte says in a desperate plea as though it would make everything between them right.
Even I can see the better pass was to Jye. Byron twists his body to pass him the ball. His opponent runs at him, leaping into the air to block his pass.
His knees buckle, and his leg gives way. His opponent lands with a heavy thud before Byron manages to align his body.
Oh fuck.
He falls awkwardly, the opponent’s foot lands on his, then his ankle twists. I grimace and groan for him. The crowd gasps loudly, a collective, “Oh.”
Byron shouts out in pain as he grabs at his foot, slamming his hand onto the hardwood.
“Fuck, this is not good.” Charlotte grabs my arm, concern etched into her face.
“ Nooo, ” she whimpers. “Not Byron. ”
I stop breathing as we wait.
My parents and Franklin are out of their seats.
The umpire blows his whistle to stop the game. Byron scrambles backward to get off the court holding his leg out straight. The doctor runs around the court and drops to his knees.
Franklin turns and looks at our father then at Charlotte. “You need to be the one to go to him,” he tells her. She nods and heads down the stairs toward the tunnel leading to the medical room. Byron is carried off the court, and as he approaches the tunnel, the journalists surround him, cameras flashing in his face.
For the next ten minutes, we watch the game, anxiously awaiting Charlotte’s return. It’s the beginning of the last quarter when she does, leans across the seat to Franklin, and shakes her head, speaking to him in a low voice. She takes her seat next to me and speaks to our parents first before turning to me.
“It’s not good. He has asked the doctor to tape his ankle so he can come out and finish the game only the doctor has decided to send him for an MRI.”
“Wise doctor.”
She nods at me. “It’s more than a basic sprain.”
“Fuck,” I say under my breath, knowing how much the game means to my brother. The air has changed as fear lingers with what will happen now. The team gets the win, yet no one feels like celebrating the victory.
I send a text to Zara.
Hey, I need to stay in LA until the weekend. Byron has suffered an injury on the court, and there is a chance he’ll need surgery so it’s best I remain here until we know more.
I miss you already .
For the next few days, I work from my LA office and text Zara daily. Unfortunately, Byron didn’t receive good news and had surgery on his ankle today.
When we receive the okay from the orthopedic surgeon, I drive to the hospital with Franklin and my parents. Charlotte is already there by his side. The nurse directs us into the room, and my parents stride ahead of Franklin and me. Mom has not let go of Dad’s hand in the last hour. She has maintained a brave expression, but I know how she is hurting and worried for her son.
I want to tell her that Byron will recover. He is strong and determined and has the Hendricks genes. She already knows this, and yet the moment we enter his room and find him hunched over a bowl vomiting his guts up, I realize his journey is harder than I assumed.
The jet arrives in London early Monday morning, so I head straight to my new office, and the entire morning is filled with meeting after meeting.
I attempt to tick off the shitload of emails waiting for me. Most of the staff has returned to work. Lydia has been promoted to succeed Gretchen when she leaves and is currently in training as my executive assistant. A man can’t focus when he knows there is someone in the building, and he needs her right now.
I press the call button on my call box.
“Yes, Mr. Hendricks?”
“Lydia, could you please have Ms. Hart come to my office? There is an HR issue I need to discuss.”
“Of course, sir.”
I wait for her by my office window and stare out to the city surrounding me. It’s a city so different from LA, and yet it is growing on me. Despite the financial opportunities and real estate investments, being here with Zara feels right, and I’m making excuses why I want to return more often in the future than the business requires.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Come in.”
Zara walks in, turning to close the door behind her. I’m first drawn to her long legs in black pants and her tight rounded ass. Focus. Her perfect breasts are covered with a pink blouse and a black suit jacket. Classy.
“You’re back,” she says with a big smile and moves toward me. “I’ve missed you. How is Byron?”
“We’ll talk about him later.” Unable to stop myself, I go to her and take her in my arms, kissing her long and deep. My dick twitches, knowing what comes next with her.
“We should be discreet,” she murmurs against my lips.
“We are. It’s my office. And besides, you’re wearing fucking pants. If I call you here, I expect you in a skirt. Especially when I haven’t seen you in a week.” I continue kissing her plump lips.
She pulls away, her eyes shocked. “You want to fuck me here?”
“Yes, Zara, everywhere and all the time,” I say, amused.
“Is this common for you with your assistants?” she snaps.
“Of course not,” I retort. “I never touch my staff.”
“Because you’re a professional?” she says mockingly, and I narrow my eyes at her. “So what am I?”
“You’re ruining the moment,” I grunt out. “And you’re my girl and happen to work here.”
The words slipped out, and she is surprised as much as me.
“Am I?” she whispers. “Is that what we’re telling people? ”
“Your friends already know,” I say dryly. “Since you were faking it.”
“Piper knows the truth.”
“You told Piper and not Penny… how close are you to Piper?”
“Close enough. I reasoned, if I had to move out of yours, we could share somewhere together since her roomie is leaving.”
“Luckily, you don’t have to move out of mine.” I stare at her. “Unless you want to.”
She shakes her head, bewildered. “Did you call me here to discuss our living arrangements?”
“No. It’s been a hell of a fucking day.” I push a hand over the top of my head to ease the headache. “The one person who can calm my mind happens to be in the same building, so being the selfish prick that I am, I called her into my office away from her work.”
She finally smiles, and it does something to ease the tension inside me. “You might be questioned on your work ethics, Mr. Hendricks.”
“Who is going to question me, Ms. Hart?”
She pops one shoulder. “Your staff, if I’m continually asked to come to your office to relieve your tension.”
“Since I’m their boss, it’s a matter that is beyond their pay grade. What is of interest is how the tension will be eased.”
Zara cups my face and gently kisses my lips. “Sit at your desk, Mr. Hendricks.”
I arch a brow, moving to my desk. I relax back into my chair, and Zara steps in behind me. Her hands rest on my shoulders as she begins to massage the muscles, and the tightness in my neck slowly eases. Not what I had in mind, but it’s doing the trick.
“Is your wardrobe all long pants?” I mutter as I envision her sprawled on my desk, her skirt bunched around her waist as I fuck her hard.
Her fingers still, and before I can protest, she spins my chair, dropping to her knees. Her hands are on the zipper of my pants as she says, “No. But there are other ways to pleasure my man.”
I’m smiling at those words coming from her pretty lips. She knows I want to fuck her mouth, and without another word, her tongue teases the tip of my dick before she takes me all the way in.
I close my eyes, the stress temporarily fading, and the only thought in my head is Zara.
The next three days were filled with back-to-back meetings. Even with Zara in my bed, I’ve struggled to sleep, the endless pressure to succeed keeping me awake. By Friday morning, my eyes are red and not the appearance I want when meeting the lawyer to finalize the developments for Sir James’ company and the proposal Penny has for greener, sustainable buildings. But all I can think about is a quiet night with Zara.
She’s had a busy week with her new human resources role. It’s finally happening for her, and seeing her happy, listening to her discuss her ideas for the company, gives me equal happiness. We are similar in some ways.
Before I enter the meeting, her name flashes on the screen.
I’m heading out with Piper and George. I’ll see you at home later tonight.
George. I rub circles over my temples. It’s not that I don’t like her friend. I don’t trust him. I was warned he is a gossiper and has caused trouble by spreading rumors in the past. He doesn’t hide the fact he is not a fan of mine. Not that I want the staff to like me. I need them to do their fucking job.
Piper, on the other hand, is good for Zara.
Okay, Zara Hart, I’ll see you at home.
Zara Hart. If I were being cheesy, I could replace her name with the heart emoji. The fuck? Why would I do that? A notification crosses my screen.
Harrison James.
Would you like to meet for a drink tonight?
Interesting. Harrison made it known he wants to move forward with my company after the takeover with him as the CEO. I like Harrison and respect his value to the company.
Name the place, and I’ll be there.