Page 22 of Great Pretender
“Murray, what am I supposed to think about? I’m in damn shock. That’s fucking what. Shock.” All I managed to do today was get my ass home and tell my best guy friend what was going on. Since he already guards my secrets and has my back, I knew I wouldn’t have to worry about him telling anyone anything.
That’s not the worry here.
What I’m worried about is losing everything.
“Is there anyone you can think of who could do a quickie wedding where you just plan out the shit, follow the terms, and take the prize? That’s what I mean about thinking long and hard.”
I have to laugh. “Murray, really? I don’t doubt there is a woman who wouldn’t want to play along in this game; it’s the repercussions I’m thinking about. Besides, I don’t even know if I’m actually thinking about this. It’s crazy.”
“I know. Of course, it is, but damn it, Chad, are you just gonna lose everything to your cousin? I won’t lie, I want you to do well and take over the company because I want the best for you. I also want the best for myself. I turned down a good job in LA to come back home and work with you.”
“I know,” I sigh, feeling worse.
Murray has been that friend in my life who would follow me wherever I went. Within reason, of course. There were times in our career when we played on opposing teams. That didn’t hinder our friendship in the least.
I know, though, that he’s made sacrifices.
“I just don’t know what to do. I don’t think this is fair,” I scoff.
“It’s not. Chad, you have to ask yourself how badly you want the team.” He flicks his palms over.
“You know I want it bad. We’ve always talked about this, and then it became a reality when my father bought the Saints.”
“Well, my friend, I’m sorry to break it to you that this is the only way.” He points to the contract on the table that included more details than what Dad and I spoke about.
The woman I find needs to stay married to me for a year. If we break up in that time, the contract is forfeit, and everything goes to Georgiou. That prick must be loving this. He might not know the shit storm that’s brewing under my ass, but my cousin is not stupid. He’s gonna know something is up from the fact that Murray will be working with him.
People like him and Uncle Roger watch others like hawks and try to swoop in like vultures if they see an opportunity. I know Uncle Roger for damn sure has expressed time and time again that as my father’s brother, he should have some entitlement to more shares in the team. More shares equal more voting rights.
He wants to own it or for his son to have ownership.
Somehow, something inside me wants to stop that from happening out of sheer principle.
“Who am I going to find?” I mutter, and it’s the first time today that I spoke words that imply acceptance.
“Now we’re talking.”
“Damn it, Murray, I can’t believe it’s come to this.” I point to the contract too.
Dad designed everything in such a way to force me into taking things seriously and being serious with a woman.
I’m not even sure I can simply find someone who can play along with me because of the length of time it will all take.
Six months to get engaged, married within the year after, and then there’s a further year of marriage. If we were to spread it out across to the maximum time frame, that would nearly be three years.
At a minimum, and possibly speeding things up, the time could be cut down to the initial eighteen months. Engaged in three months, married in the following three, and then the year of marriage would start on the wedding day.
I blow out a ragged breath and bring my hand to my head. It’s aching like a bitch and getting worse with each second that passes.
I feel like shit, and I don’t know what the hell to do to wrap my head around this.
When Dad announced his retirement, I wanted to show people I could be taken seriously, definitely when it comes to running a team. I wanted to show them I wasn’t the playboy people think I am, even though I’ve slipped up on more than one occasion. That’s not the real me when it comes to football.
Now, I feel like things have been plucked from my hands, and it’s my own fault.
If only Curtis hadn’t run his damn mouth off about Piper.
“We need to find someone who’s willing to do this, keep it covert, and play nice. Maybe offer the woman a good amount of money and whatever she wants to sweeten the deal,” Murray rattles off. “I suggest someone who isn’t part of your harem.”
