Page 101 of The Wildest One
The more time my father spent with Beck, the more I tried to fight off his flirting. And the more I tried to fight off his flirting, the more I attempted to convince myself that we could never happen.
How could I consider a future with that man?
The captain of my dad’s team?
But Beck was making that decision impossibly and painfully difficult.
And there were times I failed when I tried to be so strong.
“One of the things we’ve chatted about at great length is my return to Boston,” my father voiced.
I gave him a quick glance. “Is your plan still to take off as soon as the team leaves for the Vegas game?”
“That’s not changing”—his eyes hardened as he looked at me—“unless something comes up and prevents me from going.”
I felt my brows rise. “Nothing like that is going to happen, Dad. I promise. My team and I have everything under control. You have the perfect management in place. The players are one giant family and seem to get along great. What could possibly happen?”
“Any hiccup can send an organization spiraling. I’ve seen it occur far too many times. And in many cases, they aren’t able to recover, and that’s when I come in and buy the company.” He brushed a hand over his freshly shaven cheek. “I won’t have that happen to one of my businesses.”
I was that hiccup.
I was what could cause that spiral.
I was what my dad didn’t want to happen to the Whales.
I swallowed, the spit burning as it traveled down my throat. “It won’t happen. You need to trust me.”
Why had I said that?
And why were those words making me feel sick?
“I do. Implicitly.”
He searched my eyes, and I felt the entire arena dissolve, the background morphing into a courtroom and I was suddenly delivering my testimony. I couldn’t imagine what my face looked like, but I could feel my breathing, and that was far too labored.
“I want to ask you something.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“Do you allow anyone on the team to call you Jolie?”
Where was this coming from?
Why would he even ask this?
Did he know something?
Was he testing me?
Was I reading too much into this, like I did with everything else?
I smiled because, surely, that would cover the anxiety I was riddled with. “No one on the team even knows my nickname.” I never said it to anyone besides Beck. It wasn’t part of my email or signature. It wasn’t listed anywhere aside from my social media. “Unless someone looked me up on Instagram—but that account is set to private, and I highly doubt anyone would besearching for me.” I paused, my heart pounding so hard that I felt nauseous. “Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering.” He continued to stare at me, his gaze as unreadable as his expression. “You know … I want you to always maintain a professional front, especially with the position you have.”
“Of course.”
The buzzer went off, signaling the end of the game.
