Page 22 of Quarterback Keeper

“I told you I needed you to schmooze Honeycutt. I’m sure you don’t want your poor, sick mother living on the street.”

“That would make a fantastic headline, Dad. ‘Senatorial candidate Danbury Wilder threatens his son to cooperate or he’ll toss his sick ex-wife out of her apartment.’ Bet that would win you tons of points in the polls.”

“Don’t you threaten me, son.”

“That was your game plan tonight, not mine. I did what you said. Don’t mess with Mom. Make those payments, and I’ll keep my mouth shut.” My phone buzzed, indicating my ride had arrived. “Good night.”

I turned and left, ignoring the camera flash as I hurried down the stairs to the waiting car.

Inside the vehicle, I sat back, relaxed, and closed my eyes. Melanie Honeycutt had been all over me, and the reporters had witnessed the scene she’d orchestrated. Clearly, the information I’d slipped to the college’s blogger hadn’t circulated enough, and it wasn’t the time for me to make a public announcement. If I’d done that at the fundraiser, Dad would’ve made Mom suffer.

What a train wreck. And Gia… I could imagine what the morning’s headline would be. I needed to get to her before she read it online.

Now that the Honeycutts were sinking their claws into me in exchange for backing my father’s campaign, it’d become moreapparent that I had to keep Mom from getting hurt. I just needed a bit of leverage.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

GIA

Stationed front and center at the stadium entrance wasn’t an option for long, especially after the pressure in my bladder became unbearable. I’d parked, grabbed my purse, and hurried inside to hide from the reporter as a group of athletes exited—none of them Kylian or his roommates. A sinking feeling settled in my stomach that I might have missed him.

I aimlessly wandered the halls until I found a restroom and a room with a couch, a small table and chairs, vending machines, and a TV. I hadn’t memorized his number, and I had no way to call him without my phone. I’d been in worse positions, both before and after I’d left Dayton. At least I had a few dollars in my purse and could get snacks, but what I wouldn’t give for a caramel latte. Water and a granola bar would have to do.

I stretched out on the blue couch, worked the kinks from my neck, then grabbed the remote. After channel surfing and not finding anything I wanted to watch, curiosity got the best of me, and I toggled over to the TV’s internet app then used the remote to type in the Baller News Blog. It wasn’t my best moment, and I shouldn’t have given in to reading the gossip site, but I had time to kill.

I downed half my water and the entire granola bar before I looked at the screen to see a video of my fake boyfriend walking into some fancy-schmancy venue. The blond bimbo next to him looked more like Science-Nerd Barbie than the Malibu version her platinum hair said she was trying for.What the actual fuck?My bottle of water tumbled to the floor as I jerked forward to get a closer look from my spot on the couch.

The bimbo’s bright-red lips planted on Kylian’s—lucky bitch.My eyes were glued to the screen, and I held my breath, which I released in a huff when he didn’t push her away. A growl rumbled from my throat as a rush of possessiveness swept over me in a jealous haze.

Vision tunneled on the TV, I jerked to my feet and moved closer. I shouldn’t care. We were business partners. But dammit, I did. He was sort of a jerk but so freaking kind too. And. He. Was. Mine.Sort of.By contract, he was.

I twisted the engagement ring around my finger. We weren’t even to the part of his plan where we were married. But it was his endgame, his gift to his mom.And yet he’s letting Science-Nerd Barbie rub all over him?He was breaking paragraph three—cheating. And paragraph three had been his fucking idea.

I clicked off the TV, having seen enough. I was fired up and not going to wait inside hiding any longer. I’d managed to get that far on my own. I refused to let some idiot reporter camped outside stop me from confronting the cheating bastard.

Yanking the door hard, I stormed into the hallway and toward the exit. A group of girls towered over me. Judging by their clothes, probably basketball players. Perfect. I knew how to merge with and get lost in a crowd. We passed through the heavy doors and left the building without incident. Once in the parking lot, I broke free, two rows over from where I’d parked Kylian’s vehicle. After slipping past the few vehicles left in the lot, I quickly unlocked the SUV and climbed in.

Doors locked and my purse stowed in the console, I looked across the lot to where the photographer had parked. He was still there, but his head rested against his window. He was probably asleep—one thing was finally going my way. Perfect.

I drove out of the lot with a swipe of Kylian’s athletic card and past the sleeping reporter. I headed straight to his condo but changed directions when I realized I couldn’t get into his place. That needed to change—if we continued the farce he had legally set in motion.

When I arrived at the marina, I parked, looked around to make sure no reporters had followed me, then got out. The dark water gently lapping at the boats was calm, unlike my volatile mood. I jogged through the harbor and along the pier where his boat was tethered. Once on board, I let myself into the cabin and flipped on the galley light, illuminating the smooth teak cabinets and floor. The door to the primary room was open, and I went in, expecting to launch myself on the bed. Only Kylian was sprawled across the mattress, still gorgeous in his formal wear, asleep.

I took a minute to study how peaceful he looked while taking up the majority of the space before I pulled the pillow out from beneath his head and smacked him across the face with it.

“What the fuck?” He yanked the pillow away.

I fell onto him from the force of his grab. Quickly scrambling off, I fought the unwanted snap of electricity from where our bodies touched. But what shocked me to my core was the lack of fear. Normally, a quick move like he’d made would’ve sent me spiraling into my personal hell—none of that had happened. I shoved the thoughts aside and stored them for later scrutiny. One thing was glaringly clear—I trusted him. At least, I did with my physical well-being. But he had something to answer for, and I refused to let him get away with it. “You violated the contract, cheater.”

“I didn’t cheat.” He scowled fiercely as he sat up. “I came here looking for you. Where’ve you been all night?”

Arms crossed over my chest, I scowled. “You lost the right to ask me that when you got down with Bill Nye the Science Guy’s daughter.”

His lips briefly twitched at the corners, which only made me angrier. It wasn’t a laughing matter. And why was I harping on that when what I should be arguing with him about was what he’d said to the college blogger?

“I wasn’t getting down with anyone.” His deep voice rumbled.

“There’s evidence,” I snapped, cursing my traitorous core’s reaction to his voice.

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