Page 20 of The Player

Liza disconnected, the phone falling from her fingers and hitting the carpet with a muted thud.

Her life savings.

Gone.

In that moment, every stupid awards ceremony and dress fitting and magazine article she’d endured flashed before her eyes in a teasing kaleidoscope of humiliation.

Everything she’d worn, everything she’d said, for the last umpteen years, had been to build a sizeable nest egg for Cindy in case something happened to her.

And now she had nothing.

Tears burned the backs of her eyes and a lump welled in her throat.

What the hell was she going to do?

A pair of expensive loafers came into view and her head fell forward until her chin almost touched her chest. Great, that was all she needed to make her failure complete. Wade Urquart to witness it.

‘I think this belongs to you.’

He picked up her phone and held it out.

Liza was bone-deep tired, exhausted to the core, where she’d regularly drawn on a well of courage to face the media, the crowds, the critics.

But she had to leave here with some snippet of dignity intact and right now, sitting in a crumpled heap on Wade’s expensive carpet, she’d lost most of it.

‘Here.’ He dropped the phone into her open bag and held out his hand. ‘Let me help you up.’

‘I think you’ve helped enough,’ she muttered, but accepted his hand all the same, grateful for the hoist up as her legs wobbled.

‘Are you okay?’

She couldn’t look at his face, didn’t want to see the pity there, so she focused on the second button of his crisp pale blue business shirt.

He’d lost the tie, a snazzy navy striped one that had set off his suit earlier. The fact she’d noticed? A residual tell from her WAG days when it paid to be observant about the latest fashion, and nothing to do with how she could recite every item of clothing he’d worn last night and what he’d looked like without it.

When she didn’t answer, he placed his hand under her elbow and guided her toward his office.

‘Come with me.’

Liza wanted to protest. She wanted to yell at the injustice of busting her butt all these years and for what? But all the fight had drained out of her when she’d hung up and it wouldn’t hurt to have a glass of water, muster the last of her meagre courage, and face the trip home.

Home. Where Cindy was.

Damn.

She’d had their future all figured out. Now she had nothing. She needed to find a job, and pronto. The idea of trying to juggle a new job and how it would affect Cindy’s care, without the security of money… Pain gripped her chest and squeezed, hard.

The tears she’d been battling welled again and this time spilled over and trickled down her cheeks.

Wade darted a glance her way but she resolutely stared ahead and dashed away the tears with her other hand.

Thankfully, he didn’t question her further until he led her to the sofa she’d so haughtily vacated five minutes earlier, and closed the door. He didn’t speak, setting a glass of water in front of her and taking a seat opposite, giving her time to compose herself.

His thoughtfulness made her like him, and she didn’t want to, not after what she’d discovered today. In fact, when she’d huffed out of here, she’d assumed she’d never see him again—and had steadfastly ignored that small part of her that had been disappointed at the thought.

She gulped the water, hoping it would dislodge the giant lump of sadness in her throat. It did little as she battled the hopelessness of her situation.

Her new life? In ruins.

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