Page 88 of Playboy Pitcher
“I’m going to need more than that, Puddles.”
“The news of our marriage just broke.”
His face pales. “What?”
Swallowing the catastrophic-sized lump lodged in my throat, I turn my phone around to show him the damning words of the article scrawled across the screen.
Miami Storm Owner and Star Pitcher’s Worst Kept Secret Revealed!
“Fuck!” he shouts, shoving his hand through his hair.
“I have to go…” Grabbing my dress from the floor, I wince at the dried stains all over it. “Do you have anything I can wear?”
“What? Why?”
“What do you mean, why?” I shout. Leaving him standing there, I rush back into his bedroom and tear through his drawers. Ben appears in the doorway just as I almost topple over trying to shove my leg into a pair of his boxers. “We’re already shit deep in a scandal, Ben! This is the worst thing that could’ve happened.” Pulling a sweatshirt over my head, I run back into the kitchen to find my shoes. When I hear his footsteps, I stuff my dress in my bag and hug it to my chest. “I have to think somewhere else. I have to come up with an idea on how to fix this…fast.”
His hand lands gently on my shoulder, turning me around. “You’re not in this alone. This involves me too, remember?”
“I know,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Look, I’m getting a headache, so I need to drive while I still can.” I look up at him between my fingers to find those calm ocean eyes. I wish I could offer him more. I wish I could give him everything. “When I get more information, I’ll call you, okay?”
Drawing me against his chest, he holds me tight. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”
Forcing a smile, I nod and pull away. “I know.” Walking toward the door, I hold my breath until it closes behind me.
A promise.
The one thing I don’t believe in.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Will you sit down?All that pacing is making me twitchy.”
My shoes squeak against the tile as I come to an abrupt halt, all the adrenaline that fueled me on the drive back to the estate evaporating in a wall of bone-crushing fatigue. “What am I going to do, Em?” I groan, collapsing onto the couch beside her.
“Explaining why you came home wearingthatwould be a start,” she says, passing a finger down the length of Ben’s boxers and sweatshirt.
Foolishly, I hoped I’d have a chance to change before dealing with her, but I should’ve known better. She met me at the back door with a smug smirk as I tried to sneak in.
“The team is already caught up in multiple public relations issues. Losing the game to the Astros with Ben’s arm giving out was bad enough, but then the video of us at the bar got leaked. Let’s not forget the viral shitshow that came with Drake’s press stunt and Ben’s arrest. Now this?” Sighing, I sink my face into my hands.
“Maybe it’s not as bad as you think.”
Peeking at her through my fingers, I bark out a laugh before dropping my hands to my lap. “You’re right. It’s worse. The media will have a field day with the team owner marrying the star pitcher two days after taking over.” Digging in my pocket, I pull out my phone and scroll through the damning headlines. “Look at these,” I groan. “America’s Real Pastime. Baseball’s Bimbo. Major League’s Madam.”
Emma grins. “You forgot my personal favorite,Playboy’s New Pu—”
“Enough!” Slumping down, I toss the phone onto the cushion and drop my head back. “At this rate, there will be nothing left for Ben to take. And even if there is, he’s screwed. No self-respecting player is going to want to sign with him after…” I pause when out of the corner of my eye, I see her staring at her phone, scrolling leisurely as if I’m not having an existential crisis. “Are you even listening to me?”
Ignoring me, she flips her phone around and taps a lime green nail to the screen. “Here.”
“It’s Kat Corinthos’s Instagram page. So?”
Emma rolls her eyes. “So? Do you even know why she’s famous?”
Rolling my eyes back to the ceiling, I let out a frustrated groan. “I don’t know. A reality show? Makeup? Is there a reason for all this?”
“Ehhh!” she yells, making a game show buzzer sound. “No one knew who Kat Corinthos was until someone leaked her sex tape. Now she’s a bazillionaire.” Facing her again, I narrow my eyes as she scrolls through picture after picture. “Business savvy women take lemons and turn them into champagne.”
