Page 16 of My Little Secret

Chapter 7

SADIE

I didn’t knowwhat the hell I was doing. I didn’t even know what I thought I was doing. Ten days deep into Denver and each night, Hawk’s fingers were buried even deeper inside me. We’d been texting since that second night in his hotel room, and the man was a keeper—witty, smart, obsessed with getting me off. Not to mention his rank on the sexiest men in the world list. I even knew his real name now—Robert. He’d been little Robbie Romano at one point in his life and this knowledge did not help with containing the sporadic giggles whenever we chatted.

I just couldn’t figure out where to go from here. It was easy enough to keep Hawk to an after-work sort of thing: meet up at his place in the evening, or even a dinner out. I knew where Brute and my parents would be going, so it was easy to avoid them. But Hawk’s text earlier that morning had thrown me for a loop. It was simple, unassuming.

“Try something new tonight? Your place?”

But oh, holy hell, the waves of guilt this inspired. Because just one thought of what ‘Hawk at my place’ could turn into was enough to send me into a panic attack. Brute walking into my room early the next morning, jaw clattering to the floor when he spotted Hawk in my bed. A UFC-worthy fight erupting in the hallway. Blood smears on the floral wallpaper. Newspaper headlines for days.

It would be a PR nightmare even I couldn’t handle. Namely because I was too implicated to handle anything anymore.

The door to the hotel conference room pushed open. We were renting this space for the duration of our stay, a makeshift Brute HQ. My office space on the daily.

“What’s up, sis?” Brute sat in a chair at the far end of the glass-topped conference table. He began a slow swivel, back and forth, the chair creaking.

“Just working on today’s promo spots.” I cleared my throat, clicking through some screens as I sat in front of my laptop, surrounded by papers. “We need to make a video soon where you mention the energy drink.” It was part of his sponsorship deal. Five little video spots on his social media accounts where he’s seen consuming or promoting the drink.

“Oh, that’s today?” He nodded, staring off into space. “I went over the lines already. I’m good to go.”

“And then, tomorrow…”

His face went stony. “Yeah.”

Silence fell, but it was only awkward for me. I’d been practicing what I’d say to him about this press conference for days now. Ever since I realized that if I attended this press conference there was no way in hell I could avoid Hawk seeing me. And I did not want this to be the way my secret came out.

“You’re gonna do awesome,” I reminded him, gnawing on my bottom lip. “I’ll have it on in the room.”

His brows drew together. “What do you mean ‘in the room’?”

“Here, in the hotel room.” I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Why wouldn’t you be there?”

I feigned innocence, as if I hadn’t personally attended every single press conference of his before. “You don’t need me there, right? I figured I’d stay back and get more work done.”

“Sadie.” He leaned forward, his meaty hand spreading out on the tabletop. “You’re going.”

“Brute.” I matched his tone. “I have a shit ton of work to do. For you, I should add. I need the extra time to get it all done.”

The door pushed open, and our mother breezed in. She had a fashionably oversized purse hanging from one arm, her platinum blonde hair smoothed back into a magazine-worthy ponytail. She leaned down to kiss Brute’s cheek as she tossed a “Hello, sweetpeas” our way. Then she came over to me, kissing both cheeks.

“Hey, mom.” I buried myself in my work again.

“Any news on the betting?” She set her purse down then rummaged for something. Her unofficial role in the family was that of tracking the standings. She got a strange thrill from knowing how many people put up money against her son.

“Hawk is favored to win by a 10 percent margin,” I intoned.

“That could change,” she quipped.

“It will,” Brute retorted. He sighed, scrubbing at his freshly buzzed head. It was his pre-fight ritual. Get rid of all the body hair. “Now tell me again why you aren’t coming tomorrow?”

I rolled my eyes as my mom’s gasp echoed through the room. He had to know she’d react like this.

“Where else would you be tomorrow?” Our mother sounded horrified.

“Well—” I began.

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