Page 27 of Sealing the Deal

“I heard from a friend that Ashborne Holdings are circling closer to home.”

“How close?”

“New York,” she says evenly. “It felt a little close to you.”

Meaning Grayson Global. Meaning my urban redevelopment portfolio. Tension pulls tight across my shoulders. “Helena, do you still have friends in the planning commissioner’s office?”

“Of course. What do you need?”

“Find out who’s objecting to the green space in Skyview. We’ve hit a snag.”

“I’ll make some calls,” she replies.

I feel instantly lighter. Helena has always had a sharper head for long-term strategy than anyone in our family, including our father. She’s calm, methodical, and always three moves ahead. It’s wasted on charity galas and society lunches. She hasn’t officially worked since she left our father’s side at Ashborne Holdings and married the man he picked out for her. The divorce was finalized years ago, but she’s continued playing the part of New York socialite to perfection. Effortlessly elegant and completely untouchable.

“When are you going to accept my job offer and come on board officially at Grayson Global?” I ask.

She laughs softly. It’s not the first time I’ve offered.

“You and I both know our darling father would see that as a rather public betrayal,” she says. “Neither of us need that fallout.”

I hate that she’s right. I hate even more that the one man I was supposed to love still dictates the shape of our lives. A familiar weight returns to my already tight shoulders. My obligations in New York pulling me one way, Denver the other, Helena needing me, Donny needing me, everyone wanting something.

And in trying to hold all of it together, I’m failing everyone all at once, and that’s not good enough. I don’t know how to fix it yet, but it’s getting harder to ignore the quiet voice in my thoughts asking me if I even can.

ELEVEN

FLIC

The sky outside the jet is a solid sheet of black. The cabin lights are dimmed to a warm glow that would be calming if I wasn’t still angry at Grayson. I told him not to take that call. But he’s far too arrogant to listen to me. Why the hell did he go to the trouble of buying my bar and dragging me into this, if he had no intention of actually trying?

I was just starting to wonder if I’d misjudged him a little. When we’d spoken about the playoffs before the game, he’d seemed genuinely interested. I even tried to convince myself the call was an emergency. But then he proved exactly what I already knew. He doesn’t care about the Stormhawks. Not the way we do. Not the way that matters. I should’ve trusted my instincts about him.

A notification drops on my phone screen from the Red Zone. I already posted about tonight’s win in the car on the way to the airport. Even with my pissy mood, I feel a buzz of excitement. We won against the odds tonight, and I was there to see it. It’s just like Jake said: We play our best. We stay in the playoffs, not just to win this season, but to give the Stormhawks a fighting chance at a future.

No one expected it, but we showed up, and now we’re through to the divisional round. The Super Bowl might be two impossible games away from us, but we’re still in it and that means everything.

But the notification on my fans site isn’t one of the comments flooding in about the win. It’s a new post. A photo from tonight’s game. Not of the players, but of the skybox, taken the second Jake scored. Mama, Harper, Serena, and I are caught mid-celebration, arms up, faces lit with joy. And circled in yellow in the corner of the shot is Grayson, where he’s half turned away from the glass, scowling into his phone. My heart sinks as I read the caption:

Looks like our new owner isn’t happy about the Stormhawks win.

It already has dozens of angry and worried comments.

Why’s he on his phone instead of watching the game?

Body language says everything.

That’s not the face of a man happy about a playoff berth.

He looks pissed we won.

Bet he had money riding on us losing.

This is what happens when Wall Street buys your team.

Sell the team back.

Go back to New York.