Page 75 of The Confidentiality Clause
Slater’s smile is tight. “Why don’t I walk you out?”
Lionel and his son give me cordial handshakes and goodbyes. I tell them I’ll be in touch. All the while my heart is racing because I’m cutting it way too close if I want to get back in time. Even using the jet I chartered, it’s going to be down to the wire.
“What are you doing?” Slater asks once the door to the balcony is closed.
My brow furrows. “What do you mean? I told you before I came that I couldn’t stay long.”
“Son, do you want to secure this deal?”
I frown. I thought I already had.
“Of course I do. They both seem to like me. I’m sure a phone call or two once I’m back home–”
“A deal of this magnitude deserves more than a phone call to close it,” he grits out. “Just before you said you had to go, I was going to tell you to get your assistant to fax one of your contracts over. I think another hour or two of cigars and drinks, and they’ll be eating out of the palms of our hands.”
“Another hour or two?” I shake my head. “I can’t do that. I promised a friend I’d meet them at an event.”
He barks a laugh. “You can’t be serious? You’re going to turn down the deal of a lifetime for a girl?”
“I didn’t say anything about a woman.”
“You don’t have to. I know that look. I told you not to get attached, and what do you go and do?” He shakes his head in disappointment. “There are a million copies of whoever is waiting on you. But there is only one deal with Lionel Cartwright’s son.”
I clench my jaw. The instinct to fight him about calling Ariel acopyrises up like pressure in a volcano. There is no other Ariel Cambridge. I’ve met hundreds of women on red carpets, at parties like this one, and even in the stands of games. None of them have ever made me feel even a fraction of what Ariel does. And yet…Slater is right about one thing. This deal is once in a lifetime. Am I risking everything I’ve worked for by walking away?
“I understand how you’re feeling.” Slater softens his tone. “This life gets lonely. The travel, the long nights. It’s hard. But you don’t want to tie yourself to someone when you’re just getting started. Look, Londyn is liable to bring back a few model friends. All you have to do is point at which one you want and she’ll fall right into your lap.”
My face screws up in disgust. Like fog clearing from a windshield, my eyes are opened to who Slater really is. A sad, gross, old man with no family or friends. Sure, he has a penthouse and yachts and deals with Hall-of-Famers, but what does that amount to in the end?
Ariel’s question about what kind of legacy I want to leave comes to mind. She was right. I’ve been pushing everyone away, trying desperately to prove I’m something that I don’t think I want to be anymore. My heart picks up speed. I need to get to her and tell her all of this.
The time on my watch makes my heart stop. I’m going to be late. I hope she’ll forgive me when I explain everything.
“I’m sorry, Slater, but this isn’t what I want. If Lionel Jr. signs with someone else, that’s okay. There are more important things in life.”
I set my drink on a table and head to the door. As I leave, he yells out, “You’re going to regret this one day!”
I smile. No, maybe for the first time in a long time, I don’t think I will.
Chapter thirty-four
Ariel Cambridge
I’m going to kill him.
I look down at the pesto ravioli on the plate in front of me. Actually, I’m going to eat all of this pasta, cry in my car to a Wyatt Parker breakup song, and then I’ll kill him.
Brock didn’t show. He told me he would be here, and thirty minutes into the event, he’s nowhere to be found. I’ve had to fend off sharks since I arrived. At first, I said he was running late. That worked for a little while, until the faux pity smiles came out. The same one Houston is wearing right now. He’s sitting across from me at the table, as if he planned it. Who am I kidding? He probably did. I’m sure he spent last night coming up with a list of veiled insults to throw my way. I made it easy on him. He doesn’t even have to insult me. Brock not showing is enough.
“Do you need to check on him?” Bethanne. Dear, sweet, naive Bethanne, asks beside me. I foolishly told her I got a real date. IfBrock would have shown up, maybe I would have considered it one.
My plastic smile thins as I try to hold in my tears. I can feel my cheeks getting hotter and hotter with embarrassment.
“No, he had something come up, is all. It’s a private matter.” I manage to keep emotion from shaking my words.
“I hate that he’s not here,” Houston says with a smile that contradicts his words. “I was looking forward to talking to him again.”
“Maybe next time.”
