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“What exactly are you doing here?”

Well.

Fuck.

Apparently, we're skipping appetizers and heading directly to the main course. I could pretend I don't understand the question. I could delay the inevitable.

But I don't.

“Actually, I'm writing an article about Mitchell Knight and the Carolina Rovers. I called you when Carl mentioned your book club because I realized I've spent a lot of time talking to the men involved with the team and almost none talking to the women who actually know them.”

A couple of eyebrows rise. Carolina's expression doesn't change.

“What kind of story are you writing?”

“The truthful kind, hopefully.”

“That sounds like a reporter answer.”

“It is.”

She waits.

So do I.

Interesting.

She's good at this.

I lean back in my chair.

“I want to know why Mitchell bought the Carolina Rovers. What made him do it?”

Carolina's expression doesn't change. So I keep going.

“And I don't mean the answer he gives at press conferences about growing American rugby or building something special in Consequence. Those are great answers. They're probably even true. But they're not enough.”

“Why not?” Annabeth asks.

“Because the numbers don't make sense.”

That gets their attention. I glance around the table.

“When Mitchell bought the Rovers, they weren't some undervalued gold mine everyone else was too stupid to recognize. They were losing money. A lot of it.”

Nobody argues.

“He bought a struggling rugby franchise in a country where most people couldn't name three professional rugby players if you offered them a thousand dollars.”

Finley snorts.

“Accurate.”

“And then he started spending.”

I tick the investments off on my fingers.

“Players. Coaches. Marketing. Travel. Analytics. Medical staff. Technology. Community programs. Better contracts. Better support. And now that training facility.”