Page 24 of The Player

If she whispered in the right ears—and she had from all accounts—and it came to a vote, they’d sell company out from under him.

He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t, now he had Liza on board.

Thinking of Liza brought him full circle back to his original supposition.

He’d given up trying to figure women out. Which was why he had no clue why she’d had a mini meltdown half an hour earlier, and why he didn’t trust her complete about-face in regard to his offer.

One minute she’d been fiery and defiant, the next he’d found her in a defeated heap near the elevator. Whoever had called had delivered bad news, and the thought it could’ve been some guy who’d devastated her rankled.

He’d assumed she was entanglement-free last night, but what if there was some guy in the picture, an ex she was hung up on? And why the hell did it matter?

Whatever had happened via that phone call, it had provided a major shake-up for her to switch from a vehement refusal to accepting his offer. It made him wonder, had it been a ruse? A plan on her part to get him to up the advance?

He didn’t think so, because her devastation had been real when he’d found her crumpled beside the elevator. But his ingrained lack of trust couldn’t be shaken and her vacillating behaviour piqued his curiosity meter.

Was Liza genuine or was she a damned good actress? And if so, what was her motivation?

Ultimately, it shouldn’t matter. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. It would take all his concentration to ensure her autobiography hit the shelves within a record six months. He had editors, buyers, online marketing managers, and a host of other people to clue in to the urgency of this release.

Not that he’d tell them why. Having a publisher on the brink of implosion didn’t exactly inspire confidence in the buyers who’d stock this book in every brick-and-mortar and digital store in the country.

He needed their backing for Liza’s story to go gangbusters following a speedy release. It would take every moment of his time to make it happen.

So why the persistent niggle that having Liza stride into his office the first time, and later agree to his offer, was the best thing to happen to him on a personal level in a long time?

He’d been thinking about contacting her anyway, doing an online search first and if that hadn’t worked, getting one of the company’s investigators to find her. Thankfully, that wasn’t necessary. But realising she was the WAG every publisher in town had been hounding for a tell-all threw him. And made him doubt his own judgement, which he hated.

Had his first impressions been correct? Was she a woman not to be trusted?

He couldn’t afford to have this book deal fall through and with Liza’s abrupt turnaround—shirking his offer then accepting it—what’s to say it wouldn’t happen again?

She’d verbally agreed to the deal, but until he had her signature on a contract he wouldn’t be instigating any processes.

Damn, he wished he knew her better so he could get a handle on her erratic behaviour. She seemed introverted last night, reluctant to flirt, at complete odds with the image of WAGs.

In London, a day didn’t go by without the tabloids reporting exploits of sports stars’ wives and girlfriends, from what they wore to a nightclub opening to rumours of catfights.

The woman he’d coaxed into having a drink with him last night, the woman who’d later blown his mind with sensational sex, didn’t fit his image of a WAG.

Which begged the question, what had Liza done to become notorious?

What was her real story?

Considering he’d just emailed her a publishing contract, guess he’d soon find out.

Chapter Eleven

Liza had less than twenty-four hours to come up with a plausible life story.

One far removed from the truth.

She’d been in a daze on the tram ride home from the publisher’s office, stunned how quickly her life had morphed from orderly to disastrous.

Though it could’ve been a lot worse if she didn’t have Wade’s offer to agree to. Because as much as it pained her to contemplate he might have used her to get what he wanted, she’d be in real trouble if his publishing contract hadn’t been on the table.

It had pinged into her inbox the moment she’d arrived home and she’d scoured the contract, expecting hidden clauses and a bunch of legalese. Surprisingly, the contract was straightforward and the sizeable advance eased the constriction in her chest that had made breathing difficult since she’d taken that call from Ullric.

Once she’d forwarded it to Jimmy’s manager—who also happened to be one of the best entertainment lawyers in the country—she sat down with a pen and paper, determined to have bullet points ready for her first meeting with the ghost writer tomorrow.

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