Page 81 of Power Pucking Play

And suddenly, I know exactly what I need to do.

"I need to make a call," I say, reaching for my phone.

Jacob raises an eyebrow. "To Lexi?"

I shake my head, a plan quickly forming in my mind. "Nah. To someone else."

Understanding dawns on Jacob's face, followed quickly by concern. "Whoa. That's...a big move, man."

"I know," I say with determination. "But it's the only way. I need to make sure she knows how serious I am about this."

As I dial the number forSports News Now, my heart is racing.

This could make shit worse for Lexi’s position right now, but it could also be the push she needs to see that I'm not just playing games.

The phone rings once, twice, three times. I'm about to hang up when suddenly...

"Charlie Holcomb speaking."

I take a deep breath. This is it. No turning back now.

"Mr. Holcomb? This is Giovanni De Luca." I swallow. Hard. "I'd like to you to talk about your employee, Alexandra Brookes."

Chapter 26

Lexi

Iwalk up, staring at the imposing office building before me.

It's early. Really early. The sun barely peeks over the horizon and the streets of Chicago are still relatively quiet. But I know he'll be in. He always is.

My father works harder than anyone I know, and it's always been a point of pride for him. He's built his company from the ground up, starting as a small sports news blog that he ran out of our basement.

The directory in the lobby lists "James Brookes, Senior Sports Correspondent" in bold letters. I grip the straps of my purse tightly and head for the receptionist desk.

What am I doing here?

But I know the answer, even if I don't want to admit it. I'm here because I'm lost. Because for the first time in my life, I don't know what the right move is.

And as much as it kills me to admit it, I need my father's advice...if only to know exactly what I shouldn't do.

Each step feels like I'm walking through quicksand, memories of missed birthdays and broken promises trying to pull me under.

The receptionist eyes me warily as I approach. "Can I help you?"

"I'm here to see James Brookes," I say, surprised by how steady my voice sounds. "I'm his daughter, Lexi."

Her eyes widen in recognition, and for a moment I think she might turn me away. But then she nods, picking up the phone to alert my father's assistant that I'm here.

I take a seat in one of the plush chairs by the window and try to calm my racing heart. It's been years since I've seen my father in person, and even longer since we've had a real conversation.

But this is important. I need his help, whether I like it or not.

After what feels like hours but is probably only minutes, a tall woman with short blonde hair appears at the reception desk. "Ms. Brookes? Mr. Brookes will see you now."

I stand, willing myself to keep breathing as I follow her down a long hallway, up to the elevators, and into a spacious corner office.

My father stands as I enter, his face inscrutable.

---