I open my messages, anticipating the usual Sunday texts I receive from my parents.
Nothing.
It drives a knife farther into my chest. While I’m surrounded by staff and, at times, fans, in the last three years, I have never felt more alone.
My phone dings, and I smile.
Flint.
My smile fades.
What the hell does he want? My manager works for me, yet lately, he’s been screwing me around with more talks of trade and negotiations with other teams. It’s time I find someone new.
Can we meet for lunch?
No, not today.
I have appointments with my physiotherapist and a Pilates session.
It’s urgent.
“For fuck’s sake,” I say under my breath.
Where?
Callit intuition but I rely on it more as the years go on.
I have a bad feeling about this meeting with Flint.
Preferring to go alone, I send Ewan and Chase home. I walk out the foyer door to the porte-cochère and stop to speak to Bert.
“Good morning, Mr. Johns.” Bert tips his hat. “Your car will be here in a minute.”
“Thanks, Bert. How’s the family?”
“My wife is visiting our daughter in Michigan. She’s almost finished her freshman year.”
“Time flies when you’re having fun.” It’s why the last three years have felt like ten to me. The valet driver pulls up in my McLaren 750S, and the sight of it steals my breath for a moment. Sleek, powerful, and gleaming under the lights, it’s impossible not to admire. “I’ll see you later, Bert,” I say, sliding into the driver’s seat with a satisfied smirk.
Behind the wheel, I push my foot to the metal, the rumble stirring satisfaction as I drive away.
The drive doesn’t take long, and as I arrive at Flint’s office, I knock on the door.
The moment he pulls open the glass, it’s clear something is bothering him. “Take a seat.”
“I need to make it to my other appointments, so I hope this won’t take long.”
He gives me a single nod, adjusting his butt-ugly tie.
“Just get to it,” I snap.
“There’s a lot going on behind the scenes that I have not shared because I know your mindset is important.”
I raise an eyebrow. “It’s why I pay you well. Besides, I told you I’m happy to finish the year, play out the rest of my contract, and then I am heading back home.” I look across the table to a pile of magazines. The top one catches my eye, and as I reach to grab it, my hand freezes mid-air. “What thefuck is this?” I pick up the glossy cover and stare at the face that haunts me most nights—herblue eyes stare back and into my soul.
Her intense expression stops me cold, stealing the breath from my lungs as my eyes trace every detail. Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, a stance that commands attention. Long blonde hair cascades over her shoulders, soft against the sharp lines of a pale pink suit tailored so perfectly it might have been made just for her. The skirt reveals only her shapely legs, accentuated by high designer heels. She’s a vision of power and poise, impossible to ignore. Charlotte looks fucking hot despite the business look she has going on. Her expression screams don’t-fuck-with-me. Yet every locked-up emotion surfaces and smashes into me like a freight train.
“I have good news. She wants you back.”
