Page 5 of Hard to Handle

“I think we should steal his clients in turn,” I suggest.

Lennox snorts, and the sound about sums up everything about the suggestion: it’s impossible, it’s ludicrous, it’s freaking genius.

Plus, it’s the easiest thing to say—I’m going to steal some of the top athletes in the world away from their current representation as a fuck you—but implementing it is a whole other ball game.

But the slow crawl of a smile across my dad’s mouth tells me he was thinking the same thing. “Agreed. Fighting fire with fire is the only option . . . especially when it comes to him.”

“What did you have in mind?” Brex asks.

“I think we should tackle this on four fronts. Each one of you with an athlete to win over to our side,” he says.

“Besides more clients, what’s this going to prove?” Lennox asks, despite it being obvious to me.

“People look at you and they can’t help but notice your overall appeal. They see the former beauty queen”—he looks at Lennox—“the Olympic athlete”—then Brexton—“the girl who graduated top of her MBA program”—then Chase—“and the lawyer”—he meets my eyes—“and they forget the most important thing of all, that my four girls are just as damn dogged, professional, unflinching, and successful as their old man was.”

“Was?” I catch the word immediately.

“Is.” He waves a hand my way without meeting my eyes. “Slip of the tongue.”

“Dad—”

“You have all been successful recruiting clients thus far, but it’s always been under the umbrella of my name. It’s always been my company. Now I think it’s time you make Kincade Sports Management yours.”

Silence falls as each one of us wonders why this sudden push, and I hate the answers I assume.

“Should we assume you have it all planned out as per usual?” Chase asks, making Dad’s smile widen and the sadness clear from his eyes.

“Of course, I do,” he says. “We divide and conquer. When have you ever known me not to have it all worked out?”

He always does.

“What do you need from us?”

His grin is lightning quick, and it’s the first true glimpse I’ve seen of my tenacious, work-addicted dad since he walked in here.

“You’re up first, Dekk.” He looks to my sisters as they start their singsong “you’re the favorite one” again. “I’ll get to you next, but yours”—he points a finger my way—“might be making it easier on us with his current antics.”

Current antics?

Words no sane agent ever wants to hear.

Shit.

This is not going to be good.

CHAPTER TWO

DEKKER

“HUNTER MADDOX.”

Definitely not going to be good.

Every single nerve in my body reacts viscerally to the two words that fall from my father’s lips.

Thoughts run rampant as I try to process what he’s implying. As I try to fathom how he could think I’d be the right person for the job when Hunter’s the one who broke my heart.

But how would he know? Texts late at night telling me where to meet and when. Quick romps in hotel rooms when we happened to be in the same city at the same time. Zero promises given of anything more than the physical. How would anyone know when I played our whole sexcapade off as a casual thing I had no attachment to?