Page 30 of Sealing the Deal

I let out a slow breath, knowing Donny is right. The eyes of the fans are on me.

“Flic’s pissed, and I don’t blame her,” I admit. The whole damn city hates me right now, but somehow her anger is the one I keep coming back to. Her disappointment I picture every time I think about it. And yet she didn’t throw me to the lions on the Red Zone when she had the chance. That’s something, at least.

“The deal was a mistake,” I say.

Donny considers that, twisting the cap back onto his bottle. “It wasn’t a bad idea,” he says finally. “It was just poorly executed.”

A humorless laugh escapes me. “Poor execution is all I’ve got right now.”

“You’re trying to run a team in Denver while fighting fires in New York,” he says quietly. “That’s not easy. But weren’t you the one to tell me that you expected nothing less?”

I don’t reply and we fall silent before Donny is snatching up his paddle. “Come on. I’m still one point up. It’s not often I get to kick your ass at anything.”

We step back onto the court. Donny serves hard to my backhand, forcing me wide.

“How did the calls with the sponsors go on Friday?” I ask, returning the shot with force.

He stretches for it, sending it back in a shallow arc. “They were all pretty noncommittal,” he says between breaths. “Lots of ‘we’re monitoring the situation.’” He barely gets his paddle under my next drive. “But I heard from a contact that Drexon are in talks with the Trailblazers.”

The ball skids low. I scoop it up at the last second. “What?”

The confusion must show on my face because Donny whacks the ball hard across the court before replying. “Drexon Bank—our biggest sponsor—and the Kansas City Trailblazers, our biggest rivals.”

“Shit.” I slam the ball down the line.

“Exactly.”

“What do we do?” I ask, moving in for a volley.

Donny dives for the return and misses, the ball bouncing in before rolling to the back of the court. “I’ve organized a meeting next week with our local sponsors. They’re not the big spenders but their revenue still adds up, and I think a face-to-face could smooth the way. And then we win the Super Bowl,” he pants, “and we convince everyone you’re not your father.”

I huff an almost laugh as we reset positions. I’ve spent my entire life trying to convince the world I’m not my father, and it’s long felt like a losing battle. The few people who bother to get close to me see the difference. But an entire city? Fans? Sponsors? They don’t have that opportunity. And even if they did, I don’t have the time to show them.

We throw ourselves into the next rally, neither of us holding back. Then Donny’s footwork slows enough for me to press the advantage, driving him corner to corner until he misjudges his next hit, sending the ball flying over the line at the back of the court.

My game. 8-11.

Donny stands there red-faced and grinning despite the loss.

“When are you next back in New York?” he asks, draining half a bottle of water in one go.

“I’m hoping to manage things from here until after the playoffs,” I say, catching my breath. “But that could change if my father calls one of his last-minute board meetings.”

My muscles tense, and it has nothing to do with the game I’ve just won and everything to do with Charles Ashborne. I never thought I’d take a board position at Ashborne Holdings. Never wanted anything to do with my father’s company when I walked away over a decade ago to set up Grayson Global. But being on the board is the only way to keep a close eye on him. The only way to push back on the more ruthless deals when I can. I can’t change who he is or how he operates, but my seat at that table acts as a leash. It’s already a longer leash than I’d like, and one Charles is forever trying to slip. Last-minute meetings. Extra lines added to agendas. Quiet conversations with the board members he keeps in his pocket. Not all of them, but enough to make it hard for the rest of the board to have a voice. Those who’d rather see someone else running Ashborne Holdings, including me and Helena.

“How’s Helena?” Donny asks, as though he’s followed the same path my thoughts just took.

I might not have told him about Ana or all the reasons I left Europe and came back to New York, but I told him what happened to Helena after her marriage.

I shake my head. “She’s got all her walls up and keeps a low profile.”

“Can you blame her?”

“No, but she deserves more.”

I tense as the guilt hits. I should’ve seen what was happening. I should’ve paid more attention to her calls and messages. She’d been so breezy about the wedding. I thought she was happy. By the time I realized the truth, I was too late to do anything but pick up the pieces. And that kills me.

“You can’t keep trying to fix everything just because you didn’t fix that,” Donny says quietly.