“More like she saw my money as a way to save the family and hoped you’d make me open my wallet. Which, baby, you have to see means she could easily be behind your attack.”
“I’m not looking at her with rose-colored glasses,” I say. “I get that she’s one of them and self-serving, but I’m not sure she’s with them. Not on this. My mother knows, though, and we will soon. After you close this NFL deal.”
“This deal isn’t closing today. This is about pulling together the money to make sure it happens. We have competition now, thanks to an asshole trying to stab us in the back.”
My hand flattens on his chest. “This is about your future and the future of everyone involved. The rest of this is not. I’ll get answers from my mother. After I watch your magic in that conference room.”
His phone on his desk buzzes. “We’re ready for you,” Grayson calls out. “You need me to buy time?”
Eric buries his face in my neck for a moment and then leans over the desk to punch a button. “I’m ready. I’ll be right there.” He releases the button and looks at me. “You’re about to see another side of me.”
“The hard negotiator that knows how to cut through a room and make everyone bleed right up until the moment that he kisses them all better?”
He laughs. “You’re the only person I’ll kiss all better, but otherwise, yes.”
“I know him,” I say. “I’ve met him, but show me more.”
He smiles, but it fades quickly, his eyes flickering to my lips, lingering and lifting. “Much more, Harper. I just hope it’s not too much.” I know he’s still talking about those parts of him he’s always seen as flawed, the savant, the genius, but he doesn’t give me time to assure him that nothing is too much with him. It’s never enough. He takes my hands and guides me to the door.
We head down a hallway and I turn off my phone, not about to allow my mother to blow it up while we’re in this meeting. We meet Grayson at the door to the conference room. “I have a flight scheduled for tomorrow to meet with Jon Moore.” He glances at me. “He’s the CEO of a consortium with deep pockets,” he explains before returning to his point. “He’s supposedly fueling a competing consortium trying to bid against us on the team. I’m meeting him because he called and asked to see me. You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, now would you?”
Eric’s expression never changes. “I wasn’t aware Jon was involved.”
“That’s why you have me,” Davis says, appearing in our little circle, also dressed in casual clothing—jeans and a company logo shirt. “To find these things out.” He doesn’t look at Eric, but I feel the vibe between the two men. This is somehow a set-up to get Grayson and Mia out of town, and I approve. “They’re ready for us,” Davis adds, effectively ending any further conversation on the topic. “And they don’t know about Moore. I think we should keep it that way.”
“We’ll talk about Moore when we’re done in here,” Grayson says, his gaze meeting Eric’s. “Don’t you agree?”
“I’m never very agreeable,” Eric replies. “Which is why you like me so damn much.” With that, he slides a hand to my back and urges me into the room.
Once we’re in the conference room, Eric introduces me to six men, all of whom sit at a round conference table. “This is Harper Evans,” he announces, as the men stand up to greet me. “Harper has a strong corporate management background as well as experience dealing with unions that we know will be a part of the NFL operation,” Eric explains. “And she’s loyal to me. I want her to sit in and hear any feedback she might offer.”
A grumpy old man with a belly says, “I’m sure you’re wonderful, Harper, but,” he looks at me. “let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We have competition now. We have a back-stabbing son of a bitch trying to steal this out from under us.”
From there the voices rise, butts get planted in seats, and Eric settles into a chair between Davis and Grayson. Mia is waiting on me and motions to an empty seat, giving me a warm squeeze of my hand under the table when I sit, her way of welcoming me, and it feels quite genuine. More genuine than any welcome I ever received at Kingston. There is no pause as I settle in. The debates and hot topics come lightning fast. I watch Eric’s face as he interacts, mesmerized by this man who settled deep in my soul years ago and never faded away. He doesn’t show emotion. He doesn’t show anger. I can almost see the numbers, the calculation of his answers in his eyes. I imagine them ticking through his brain and it intrigues me. There is nothing he doesn’t have an answer to and Grayson is quiet but shrewd, while Davis is outspoken and intense. The three of them are amazing together and I share a look with Mia that says she knows what I’m thinking and yes, she agrees.
These men are friends. These men are brothers. These men belong together and I think of my mother’s threat to attack Eric, to bring him down, and perhaps destroy his life, and it angers me again. I meant what I said. I will make her talk. I will end this. I will protect this man, who is only involved for one reason: me.
That determination fills me and expands as the meeting turns into three hours. When finally it ends, and there is more money on the table than I can hardly fathom, the room is standing, people are shaking my hand. We exit the conference room and Grayson eyes Eric and Davis. “My office, you two.” He takes off walking. Davis eyes Eric. “You know what this is.”
“About you getting him out of town to keep him safe,” Eric replies, eyeing Mia. “Getting you both out of town and safe.”
“I’m all in,” she says. “He’s not leaving you, though. Not unless you go with us.”
Eric grimaces and leans in and kisses me. “This may take a while,” he says. “My office is your office, baby. Make yourself at home.”
He and Davis depart and I turn to face Mia. “How about some coffee?” she asks. “We never really finished our last cup.”
“I’d like that. I do need to make a call.”
“Why don’t I grab Starbucks and meet you in Eric’s office?” she offers.
“Perfect. Thank you.”
I give her my order and head into Eric’s office, sitting down at the conference table, with the intention of calling Blake and checking on my mother. I have ten missed calls from my mother and a voicemail. I push play to hear her say, “I’m on my way to the airport. We’ll talk when I get there because you need to hear what I have to say. Your father—step-father—went there to warn you. Eric is not the man you think he is. This is all about him. All about him.”
The line goes dead.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE