Page 56 of The Wrong Move

“All of them?” I say, exasperated for her.

“Well, not all of them…” She laughs. “If you get what I mean.”

I laugh with her but don’t get it unless she means there are players she has hooked up with. Of course she has. What am I thinking?

Charlotte drains her glass. “Come.” She stands and refills our glasses before leading me to a glass window that overlooks the court. I stand alongside her, watching the players warm up.

This is not an official game, and yet a crowd is starting to fill the lower stands. I find Byron and watch him dribble and dunk the ball through the hoop.

She eyes him over the rim of her glass. “He’ll pull out all his best moves tonight to impress you,” she says, her tone flat.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, but he should stick with the coach’s plan and not show off. The rookies are waiting for an opportunity to snatch his spot, and as much as I want what’s best for the team, I want what’s best for my brother first and foremost. He is our family’s priority.”

“Did your father buy the team for Byron?”

She spins to face me, her brow heavy over blue eyes. “Who told you that?”

“No one, but Byron mentioned it was a rumor.”

Her expression softens, and she takes another sip of her champagne. “Byron was always going to play in the NBA. He’s really that good. While his determination equals his talent, myfather was gutted he didn’t want to continue in business to add millions to the billions my father already owns.” She rolls her eyes. “Byron was never going to forgo his basketball dream, so my father decided the family could also profit from the sport rather than Byron earning a fortune for himself.”

“I remember Byron telling me about his father’s plans for him when we were in high school. Recently, I learned he wanted to study robotics.”

“He did?” Charlotte asks. I nod. “It does not surprise me. He was always intelligent. I didn’t get Frank’s or Byron’s mathematical brain. Like Jobe, I’m diligent and will work toward setting up a future in a business that is right for me.”

“Is the team your future?”

Her expression changes to contentment. “It is. One day, I hope all this will be mine.”

The way she says it, I believe her.

“My father is rarely, here and he trusts me to handle the organization’s business.”

I don’t miss the passion in her voice. I glance down to the court, and Byron looks up and sees me at the window with Charlotte. He grins before receiving a pass and then setting up a play for Brandon to score.

“BJ appears to be a good friend.”

“He is. They met in college, and he’s been part of the family ever since.” There’s an affectionate sound in her tone. While her family may have welcomed the Aussie into their lives, I’m curious if Brandon is more to her and possibly one of thenot all of themshe referenced earlier. I track her gaze to Brandon. She watches him closely, even though he doesn’t have the ball in his hands.

“Do you think Brandon will return to Australia when he retires from the NBA?” The way Charlotte’s eyes round and her lips part, I think I’ve managed to surprise her.

“His retirement plan has never come up in our conversations. I hope he plays out his days with our team, but if he sees the need to go elsewhere, or even to Europe, I guess we can’t stop him.” Her voice fades with the last words. “There was talk of him returning to Australia for a few months next year if he makes the Olympic basketball squad. While we’ll miss him during that time, I would also be extremely proud of BJ. None of our other players have made the USA squad, so it would be great recognition for our team.”

All her talk of the team and what might be best for it is evident when it comes to Byron, and I suspect Brandon too. Secretly, I imagine her loyalties will always lie with them first.

“We should head down and take our seats. It’s getting close to tip-off.”

I take my handbag from the table and follow Charlotte to the elevator. “Are any of your family coming tonight?” I ask when the double doors close.

“No. They rarely come for the preseason games and never for internal games.”

I don’t pry further. I’m relieved not to be seeing the rest of the family tonight.

Charlotte leads me along what appears to be a hallway for the VIPs until we come out of a door near the tunnel leading to the locker room in one direction and the court in the other. We walk courtside, so close to the players now huddled around the coach, and take a seat in the third row behind the players’ bench in the stands.

I only have eyes for Byron, watching his intense expression as he listens to the coach. His brow is heavy, and he nods several times while the coach speaks. The intensity in his eyes almost steals my breath, and I wonder if it deepens when it’s a season game. Or is his concentration always like this? I expect the latter, as I have always known his extreme passion for the game.

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