I waste no time scooping piles of steaming food onto my little plate. “Did you honestly think we called out of the blue for a random charity collaboration?”
“Crazier things have happened.”
The champagne fizzes up, overtaking the conversation. “They were hoping you’d be like all the other suckers and fall for their little scheme.”
His brow wrinkles as I shove a piece of fried calamari in my mouth.
“So you’re saying that all of your relationships have beenplanned?”
“Most of them. And not planned, per se, butsuggested.Heavily encouraged for whatever that partnership could offer.”
“So your publicist and your manager arrange your dating life?”
“Yeah, and my manager’s my mom.” I snort like it’s funny.
He presses his lips into a tight line, and I notice the auburn tint in his stubble in the low light. “You know, that’s kind of sad.”
“Thanks.”
Just when I begin to regret opening my blabbering mouth, he says, “So what’s one more?”
“What?” I say, chomping on a steaming, artisan cheese-smotheredpommes frite—a pretentious cheese fry.
He picks up a few too, shoving them in his mouth, thinking as he chews. “If both our teams want to seethishappen, then why don’t we make it happen?”
“Because I don’t like you.”
“So? Business isn’t always about liking people. If that were the case, I probably wouldn’t be here either. You aren’t exactly a ray of sunshine yourself.”
I stick out my tongue.
He ignores the gesture. “I think there’s something we can both offer each other to, ya know, help one another along.”
I arch a brow. “So you want to use me?”
“No.” He leans closer. “I help you. You help me.”
“Why do you need help? I’ve seen how lucrative some of those football contracts can be. You don’t need me.”
“What about after football?”
I lean forward, too, narrowing my eyes. “Greed isn’t a good look on anyone, Decker Trace.”
“I’m notgreedy.” He scowls, spitting the last word like it’s poison. “I’ve just got things—people I want to take care of.”
The judgment I imposed on him falters for a moment. It’s easier to say you’re going to share until the money is in your hands or your bank account. I’ve been in this business long enough to know that once someone makes their first million, the appetite for more becomes insatiable. Why would Decker be any different? I’ve been down this road. Someone wanting a piece of the life I’ve built, of all the time I’ve lost, sinking it into my career. I’ve had photos and documents hacked by those I thought I could trust. I’ve had stories made up and sold to journalists. All of that betrayal for a quick dollar. Why should I share my success—myself—with someone else simply because they think they have something to give me? Am I so desperate to cover my tracks that I’m willing to take this gamble?
“People to take care of? That’s a pretty convenient excuse.” I shake my head, tossing down my fries just as the waitress pops up and refills our glasses before setting the chilled bottle on the table and flitting away. “Anything I’ve got, I earned it myself. I don’t need you to do a single thing for me.”
“Just think about it.”
“No, I’m good.”
As desperate as I am to regain control of the headlines and salvage my reputation, I can’t stand the thought of it beinghimwho saves me.
He lifts his hands in surrender. “All I’m saying is maybe it’s time you make a choice for yourself. It sounds like your rebellious streak is pretty limited, like you’re afraid of going too far out on the limb without their approval.” I scoff, but he doesn’t stop talking. “You can start and end this thing on your own terms, and in the meantime, I might be able to get a little face time at your side. Redeem myself, maybe.”
“Redeem yourself?” A laugh squawks out, no doubt given extra gusto from the drinks.
