“Levi,” he says curtly as he releases the button on his suit jacket and lowers himself into the chair. “I’m glad to see you could make it.”
“Yeah, Vista and I were in the neighborhood.”
His gaze travels to my left, just now realizing she’s also in the room. A look of surprise flashes briefly in his eyes, but being the man he is, he covers it with a bright and welcoming smile. Only I know him well enough to recognize the strain tightening his lips and his words to razor sharpness.
“Vista, how good to see you. Is my son forcing you to tag along on business meetings?”
“He certainly twisted my arm,” she says, casting me a shy smile.
I return it, knowing I didn’t have to twist very hard. The only motivation Vista needs is the promise of a job, and with David Black backing her, it’s already in the bag.
“Well, as long as he’s not working you too hard,” he says, a thread of warning leaking into his voice.
“So, down to business?” I ask, eager to move this thing along. I feel like Tom Cruise in The Firm. There’s just something sinister about this place that I never liked. The sooner we get out of here, the better.
“Right.” My father snaps into business mode. With a single look, the man to his right hands over a folder that he immediately opens and begins leafing through. “I’m actually happy you brought your sister along today,” he says, emphasizing her title. The men flick judgmental looks at me, but I ignore them.
“I see you got the cast off and you’re no longer using crutches. How is the recovery coming along?” When he doesn’t get an immediate response, he casts an expectant look across the room to Vista.
“Oh, you mean me?” She jumps to attention, sitting up straighter in her chair. “Um, good. He’s making progress every day. I’m hoping to start him on water exercises today so we can start rebuilding—”
“Good, so we’re on track,” he cuts her off. I clamp my jaws together, biting back the angry words I want to say. It’s fine for him to treat me that way, but disrespecting Vista digs in my craw.
“Your rehabilitation will be complete in three weeks. You’ll be on a plane three days after that for a game scheduled that Saturday in Florida. Until then, we’ll keep you busy making appearances. Did Becca send you the revised schedule?”
He’s floating right along, dictating everything about my life to me as if he’s the director and I’m merely a player in it. I grit my teeth, leaning back in my chair and folding my hands across my stomach before I leap out of it and cause a scene.
“Not that I’m aware.”
His dark brows furrow in disapproval and he makes a note on the paper in front of him. No doubt, Becca will be looking for another job by lunchtime. “The Adidas commercial went live this morning,” he rolls on. “My sources tell me that it looks set to go viral by the end of the day. If it does, and I don’t see why it won’t, we’ll set up an appearance at the expo coming up next month.
“ESPN contacted us yesterday. They’d like to interview you for one of their morning broadcasts. I told them you’d be there.”
I’m shaking my head before he’s finished his sentence. “No.”
Still speaking, my father’s words cut off abruptly and his cold eyes focus like laser beams down the table. “Come again?”
Drawing in a steeling breath, I force myself to say the words that have been circulating in my brain for months. “I’m not doing the interview. In fact, I’m not doing any of it.”
“Levi—”
Cutting him off, I tell him, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I’m going to retire after this season.”
He laughs, the sound nothing more than a short, condescending bark. “You’re going to retire? You’re not even twenty-five yet.”
“I meant from the game. It’s not for me anymore. It’s not what I want to do.”
“Screw what you want to do,” my father bellows. “You have commitments, and in this family, we honor our commitments.”
“I didn’t commit to anything,” I remind him. He’s made my decisions for me for so long he’s stopped checking with me to make sure I’m on board. “Whatever it is, cancel it.”
“That’s not how this business works, Levi,” he bites out. The men at the table look back and forth between us, like this is a tennis match. “Contracts have been signed. If you don’t show up, guess who gets screwed. Me!”
“Then send me the bill.” I’ve said what I need to say and it’s clear this conversation is going nowhere fast. Reaching the end of my limits, I shove my chair back, stand up, and signal for Vista to do the same. My father watches the exchange, his face growing red.
“If you walk out that door, I’m cutting you off. Both of you,” he snarls, his warning clear.
Vista’s feet stop moving and her eyes widen in fear. Approaching her from behind, I let her feel the heat of my body against her back as I lean into her. “It’s okay, princess. Whatever he’s promised you, I can match it.”
The last thing I’m going to do is let him suck her into his poisonous world. He only got this far because he’s a master manipulator. Everyone falls under his spell or gets trampled. I’ll be damned if Vista falls into either category.
It’s one thing for me to walk away. The worst my father will do to me is write me out of his will and cut me off financially, but I have plenty of my own money. I don’t need him to stand. As shitty as he’s been to me, my father has set the world at my feet. I’d be a liar and a bastard if I claimed not to appreciate what he’s done for me. But that doesn’t mean I have to continue to allow him to abuse his station. It’s time for me to be my own man, and, interestingly enough, it took being with Vista to realize it.
The door slams behind us as we leave the conference room. A woman I assume is Becca steps off the elevator carrying a load of takeout bags. When she sees Vista and me approaching, she moves out of the way and greets us with such a cheery disposition that I instantly feel bad for her, because her day is about to go down the drain.
“He was really upset,” Vista says, her voice small as we ride the elevator back down to the ground floor.
“That’s his natural state of being.” When the doors open, I guide her out with my hand at her elbow. The need to touch her—in any small way—is becoming habitual. The feel of her on my skin is addictive and I find myself needing to be near her, to feel that connection, however little, in any way that I can. “What you saw back there was nothing. My father can be a real son of a bitch when he feels like it. Today was a good day.”
Parking at the curb directly in front of the building, we pause in front of my bike to strap on our helmets and get situated. Vista runs her teeth over her bottom lip, a nervous habit I’m beginning to recognize as meaning that she has something on her mind that she wants to say.
“Spit it out, princess.” Kicking my leg over the bike, I hold it steady so she can climb on.
Only, she’s still standing on the sidewalk. “If this was a good day, then I feel sorry for you.”
Fuck. I can tell where this is going, and I don’t want her sympathy. Scowling at the traffic flowing by, I tell her, “Don’t. I’m used to it.”
“You shouldn’t have to be.”
Hearing those words causes an ache in my gut. I can’t remember the last time anyone has cared enough to…well, care. I don’t know what the hell to do or say in response, so I use the only tool I have left at my disposal—irritation. “Get on the damn bike, Vista. It’s lunchtime and I’m starving.”
Her gaze seems to see straight through me and, unable to handle the intensity of it, I jerk my head for her to get on the damn bike already. Shaking her head, she grabs hold of my shoulders, slings her leg over the seat, and settles in behind me. I close my eyes at the feel of her soft curves melting into me.