Page 1 of Tangled Hearts

Chapter One

DYLAN

“You’re not going to ask for guaranteed money?” I push down my glasses to peer at the man across the table from me.

“Guaranteed would be twenty to twenty-five million less, maybe more. They don’t think I’m going to last the season. This”—Kaden Gunner taps his shoulder—“is too fragile for guaranteed money.”

I make a couple of notes and hand the contract back to him. “There don’t appear to be any hidden clauses, although this merchandising clause is a bit ambiguous. I’d make a couple of changes so it’s clear that you get your licensing fee off the top instead of net. You know how those big corps like to do funny business with net receipts. Also, there’s no reason your team should be taking any money for film, TV, or streaming rights, so I’d strike that. Otherwise, I think you’re good to go.”

“Thanks. It’s not that I don’t trust my agent, but it’s always good to have a second set of eyes look things over. You don’t want that Harvard education to get rusty.” Kaden slips the contract into the inner pocket of his coat.

“You light on business these days?” asks Brooks. Chef Brooks runs The Plate, a restaurant that was awarded three stars by Michelin in its first year of operation and hasn’t lost them since. The waiting list to get into The Plate is about a year long despite the two thousand dollar per plate price tag. My law office is on the fifth floor of the building which is owned by the fourth man at the table—real estate mogul Graham.

“Been taking fewer clients,” I admit.

“That’s good. My sister’s always telling me that I need a better work-life balance,” Graham says, his face buried in his phone.

“Is that because you missed your nephew’s birthday?”

“I didn’t miss it. I sent a present.” Graham finally lifts his head from out of his phone.

“You sent him a car.”

“He will eventually need one,” he replies defensively.

“Graham just wondered what it meant to be the internet’s main character,” Kaden drawls. “Once you’ve been the subject of a viral hate campaign for a week, that novelty wears off.” Last season, Kaden fumbled the ball on the one yard line, resulting in the Mavericks not making the playoffs. From the posts online, you would have thought he went into people’s houses and murdered their mothers. Graham gifting his five-year-old nephew a car got varying responses from “I need a sugar uncle” to “out of touch billionaire needs to be next on the lone gunman’s list.” His board of directors is making him get a bodyguard.

“Are we done talking shop? I want to get a few hands in before I have to get home.” Brooks’s phone beeps. He curses but stands up and starts shoving his arms into his coat. “The butcher did what? Oh hell no. I’ve got a VIP coming in tomorrow, and I need that wagyu. I’m on my way to the restaurant. In the meantime, try to call over to the Cow House.” He pockets hisphone with a frustrated sigh. “I’ll fund the first round next month. Sorry, gents.”

“I should go, too.” Kaden rises. “I want to send these changes to my agent and get the deal locked down. Thanks for looking it over, Dylan.”

I give him a salute. Graham leans back in his chair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Poker with two people?” I arch an eyebrow.

“We could play blackjack.”

Or I could go home and get some work done on a project that I’ve been messing around with. Graham takes a drag on his cigar and exhales the smoke in one long stream. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, but you and I have been friends for a long time.”

“Since college,” I acknowledge warily.

“Right, so from one friend to another, do you have something you need to share? This is a judgment-free zone.” He opens his arms. “Whatever you’re doing is okay with me.”

I roll my eyes. “Thank God, the human trafficking I’ve been handling has been weighing on my shoulders. I’ve got four kids locked up in my basement, but I need some place to stash them because the feds are on my ass. You got a place for them?”

“No need to be sarcastic, buddy.” Graham looks a mite offended. “I was just trying to help.”

“What bird is whispering in your ear?”

“Julie came by the other day,” he admits. “She was upset and said you two had broken up because you didn’t care about law anymore and just wanted to stay home doing your little”—he makes a motion with his hands that I can’t decipher—“thing.”

“My jacking off?”

“No! I don’t know what she meant, and I didn’t need her to explain anything further because Julie is, well, whatever, and you’re my friend, so I showed her the door and figured I’d cometalk to you about it tonight. Want to tell me what this is?” He repeats the hand motion.

“Knitting.”

“Huh?”

---