“I’d better go. I’m seeing Russell, and then I’ll come to you.”
Armi gathered his things and closed down his computer. He waved good-bye to Hayden, who was typing away and on the phone with the press office, checking quotes on the article they were planning to promote. In the car, he contemplated how to handle Russell, deciding to face the problem head on. The housekeeper let him into Russell’s home. “Mr. Anders is in the library.”
Armi smiled at her. “I know the way, thank you.”
The house was a testament to Russell’s life in football—memorabilia in every room and photographs of him as a college player and pro. Armi recognized his father in many of the pictures. Several large-screen televisions took up wall space, and Armi knew his father would often spend afternoons or eveningshere, watching tapes of the games. He could count on one hand the number of times his father had invited him to join them.
Russell reclined in a club chair with his leg raised and crutches by his side.
“Damn ankle,” he groused. “Have a seat. You want a drink?” He tipped his head to the array of bottles and glasses.
“No, thanks, I’m fine. Do you want anything?”
“Scotch. There’s ice in the bucket.”
He fixed the drink and handed Russell the tumbler. “How’re you feeling?” Reflexively he winced as Russell, in obvious discomfort, shifted in his chair. “Can I get you a pillow or something?”
“No. Tell me about the weekend.”
Heart pounding, Armi sat opposite him and crossed his arms. Confrontation wasn’t in his DNA, but Hayden was right. If Russell had planned on seducing him, he deserved an answer.
“No, first I think you have something to tell me. Don’t you?” Meeting Russell’s eyes, Armi had expected some kind of remorse or apology. Instead, Russell remained unconcerned.
“What?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Are you going to play dumb?” It was a struggle to keep his temper. “You booked us one room. One bed. What was that about?”
A slight smile tugged at Russell’s lips. “Surprised? I’ve watched you for years. Could never do anything about it because of Randolph.”
“You’re…gay?” He’d gotten the vibes right, but hearing Russell—whom he’d known all his life—say it still sent shockwaves through him.
“I’m bisexual. I figured the weekend would’ve been perfect for us to explore the attraction.”
Armi didn’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed as hell at Russell’s presumptuousness. “So let me get this straight. You figured we’d hook up over the weekend—that because we’d share a bed, I’d be open to fucking you?”
Russell’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, no. I do the fucking. Trust me, you’d be begging for it.”
His face burned. “I can’t believe this.”
Russell leaned forward, his face urgent, his voice soothing. “Come on. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice things were different between us in the office since your father’s been gone.”
“You were helping me get on my feet with the team. At least that’s what I thought.”
“I was—still am. Think of it. You and me running the Kings…it’s perfect.”
A sudden thought came to Armi. “And you would’ve come out? To the team and the league?”
Russell blinked. “What? No, of course not.” His smile turned slightly feral. “Just you and I would know. There’s something to be said about secret relationships. Makes it hotter. Tell me you haven’t thought about it. You and me. Together.”
Armi’s stomach turned. He needed to leave. “No. I haven’t. Sorry. I’m not attracted to you. But I know what this is all about. It’s the team, isn’t it? That’s all it’s ever been for you and my father. You think by getting me into bed, you could influence how the team is run. And soon you’d be running it completely. Tell me, did you think I’d sign my ownership over to you?”
The lunch in the restaurant with Martin Price came to mind, and he recalled Russell being there.
“You talked to Martin Price after my lunch with him, didn’t you? You wanted him to write a hit piece on me. It was you. You were the one sabotaging me all along.”
It shocked him to the core that Russell wasn’t in the least fazed by his question and had no shame. “Come on, Armand. What did you expect? You have no idea what you’re doing. Randolph never meant for you to inherit full ownership. Sure, you’d get some percentage of the Kings, but he wanted me to have the majority share and run it. I’m the logical choice.”
“So you figured to get both—me and the team.”
