“You don’t get to hurt her again,” I tell him. “And you don’t get to hurt me through her.”
His voice comes out low and cold. “You’re making a mistake.”
“No,” I say, turning towards the door. “I made a mistake when I listened to you the first time.” I pause in the doorway and look back at him. “I’m not doing that this time.”
I walk out, leaving the great Maxwell Cromwell alone with his thoughts.
Once I’ve left his office, I make my way to my own. There has to be something that I can do to keep on working here. Some legal loophole that Dad can’t wiggle out of and take away the company that I’m supposed to own.
Thankfully, when I reach the Blaze offices, they are empty. It’s a Sunday so none of the office staff should be there; however, I wasn’t sure if the coaches would be there. Sometimes when it’s just me and a coach or two, they find their way to my office so that we can talk. The front office staff not being there suddenly makes them bolder and they come up. I like it when they do, normally. Any other day I would welcome the conversations and collaboration that we have. But thankfully, they are not here today. So, I can have peace.
Hours later, the sun is creeping across the floor and illuminating the wall with a soft orange glow. I’m working awayon sponsorship proposals and answering emails when I see a figure standing at the entrance of my office.
Dad is here.
Standing in the doorway like he owns the building, suit immaculate, expression unreadable.
I stare at him and shake my head. “No, absolutely not. You do not get to show up here.”
He smiles at me. The kind of smile that tells me he’s out to ruin something. “Relax, I’m here on business.”
“You don’t have any business here,” I remind him.
“I do now,” Maxwell says, straightening his cuffs. “The league is in the process of approving the new expansion of the WNBA here in Tampa. They want you.”
I gape at him. “What?”
“It’s a massive opportunity. To take the team from the ground up the same way that you have here.” He says the words like it’s a no-brainer for me to leave the Blaze and start a new organization for him.
“I’m not really done with what I’ve built here. The season is still going on. How can they be so sure that they want me with that team?”
“You would make a great face of this franchise,” he explains.
I cross my arms across my chest. “And you think I’ll go because you say so.”
“I know you will. I just hope that you won’t screw it up with all this nonsense.”
There it is.
The hook.
The threat that is wrapped up in praise. The way he thinks he can get me to turn my back on the Blaze and on Hendrix.
“Just say what you came here to say,” I tell him, exhaling slowly.
Dad steps closer to me, lowering his voice. “You can’t stay with the Blaze.”
My jaw tightens as I fight the urge to grip the edge of my desk.
“Because it’s small,” he says, as if that explains everything, before adding, “It’s becoming beneath you.”
“It wasn’t beneath me when you started this organization and said that I would be running it. What changed?” I ask him, even though I know damn well what has changed.
“Because she’s here.”
I feel the heat rise in my chest. “Don’t.”
“Hendrix is a distraction,” he says, teeing up his favorite argument. “She always has been. And if you stay here, tied to her, tied to this, this team, you will never reach your full potential.”
