Page 47 of Recruited By the Billionaire

“And the league is going to hate that,” said Laine. “It will make them look as though they picked the wrong man when so many others wanted this expansion opportunity.”

“They already think that, Laine,” said Jerry. “That ship already sailed. They definitely regret it.”

But Robert wasn’t listening to either of them. He listened to the lawyers, but even their tale of what happened didn’t ring true to him either.

“What makes you think it was some kind of romantic hook up?” Robert asked them.

Laine frowned. “That’s what you’re concerned about? You could lose your team, but you’re concerned about why she shot the guy?”

Robert ignored Laine and was still staring at his attorney.

“They base it on the fact that her bed looked as if it had been slept in, it happened in her bedroom, and she was in her pajamas.”

“What was he in?”

“He was naked, sir.”

“Naked? Did he . . .” Robert couldn’t even pull himself to say the word.

“There was no rape, nor attempt according to her. She shut that down with her aggression.”

Robert was pleased to hear that much. But he was still worried sick about her. “It’s still bullshit,” he said.

“What’s bullshit?” Jerry asked him. “That he was naked, or that she didn’t kill him?”

“Both.”

Laine was surprised. How could he be so narrowly focused at a time like this? “Robert, they caught her with the gun still in her hand. She had just fired the shots when they got to her apartment.”

“Laine’s right,” said the lead attorney. “She killed him alright.”

“Did she tell you that?” Robert asked him. “Or just the cops told you that?”

“She told me,” his lead lawyer said. “It was the first thing out of her mouth. She’s really broken up about it.”

Robert’s heart squeezed in anguish for Francesca. He could only imagine what she was going through.

“She said it was self-defense,” his lead attorney continued. “She said he broke into her apartment and she had to defend herself or he was going to kill her.”

“There’s something to be said about that too,” said the second-chair attorney. “Her apartment looked as if it had been ransacked. There was blood in her kitchen from a knife wound he suffered. Furniture overturned and broken glass everywhere. It’s a plausible defense.”

“What defense?” Robert asked. “It’s the truth! And you’d better defend that truth with your life.”

“We will, sir. We will.”

Then Robert exhaled. “How did she look?” he asked. He didn’t rape her, but did he beat her up badly? Robert was worried about that too.

“She looked good, considering her circumstances,” his lead attorney responded. “She was banged up a little, had a couple bruises on her arms, which we photographed.” Then he smiled. “But don’t worry, Robert. Her pretty little face wasn’t touched at all.”

Robert almost lashed out at his attorney. He didn’t give a damn about that. But he realized that was who they thought he was. Mister Shallow. The man who treated women as if they were playthings.

“How far away is that damn station?” he asked impatiently. He had no clue where the Pensacola police department was even located.

And then the car was quiet. Until the lead attorney’s cell phone rang. When he ended the call, he smiled. “The judge set her bail.”

“How much?” asked Laine.

“A million dollars, which is outrageous. The most I’ve ever seen for a first-time offender like her is two-fifty tops.”

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