Jock: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (17 page)

“
B
efore we begin
, London, I think I speak for the entire board when I say we’re all sending our good thoughts and prayers your dad’s way.”

There’s a collective sound of murmuring and nodded heads around the boardroom in the upper offices at the stadium.

I nod quietly at Richard, who I’ve known since I was a little girl and who’s been a solid member of the board for more than two decades.

“I don’t think I’ve slept for two nights worrying about him, London.”

I frown as I turn to see the more than slightly forced looking expression of worry on Tom’s face, sitting across the table from me.

“If there’s anything you need, you’ve got my number.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes as I turn back to my father’s friend.

“Thank you, Richard.”

He nods as he looks down at me and puts a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“And speaking at least personally, I can pretty damn confidently say that your old man is one tough son of a bitch, and I know he’s going to be just fine.”

He smiles widely as he looks around the room.

“Archie didn’t have a heart attack,” Louis, a portly, lovable sourpuss of a board member who’s been here so long he’s practically a part of the stadium says as he leans back in his chair.

“The heart attack had a damn Archie attack.”

I grin for the first time in what feels like forever as a chuckle rumbles through the room.

Everyone’s trying to be funny and light, but the lucky truth of it is that my dad
is
going to be okay. It’s going to take time, and him basically restructuring his entire lifestyle, but they expect a full recovery if he does.

Great, I just need to make sure my dad stays away from stress, high pressure situations, and unhealthy food. That eliminates every aspect of his job running things here at the club, and literally everything about his diet.

No problem.

The former though is why we’re all here. Dad can’t be here day-to-day dealing with the shit that needs dealing with when it comes to running a professional league organization, not unless he wants to have another freaking heart attack. So we’re here today reading over his wishes for succession. Today’s meeting is about bringing the person he thinks the highest of and trusts the most with running his team up to speed on where we stand as an organization.

…Yeah, guess who that might be. One guess.

“So, London, I suppose we should move onto signing the official papers to put you in charge of this team and this board.”

Richard starts pulling legal documents out of a briefcase. I just stare at each one in turn with a feeling of doom hanging over me.

Me. Dad wants
me
to be in charge of this entire football club. Sure, I’ve worked in this place my entire life, and the ins and outs of this job are everything I know. But
actually
being the one in charge and the one holding the reins is a terrifying thought.

Richard’s in the middle of passing me the first heavy packet of contracts when the door to the boardroom swings wide and none other than my stepmother comes waltzing in.

She cat-walks across the room in what I’m sure are nothing less than a five-thousand-dollar pair of Louboutin’s and some sort of billowing white silk cloak thing trailing behind her. She’s got a pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses in one hand and her purse of the same brand dangling from the other, and I bristle as she dramatically hugs me.

“Oh my sweet, sweet girl,” she says with a pouting sad face, air kissing me on both cheeks before sitting back on her teetering heels.

“I came home as
soon
as I heard.” She drops her purse and shades on the boardroom table, seemingly oblivious of the ten other people in the room as she clutches at her heart.

“I came
right here
for you, directly from the airport.”

Her “sentiments” piss me off for two reasons. One, because “as soon as I heard” was over forty-eight hours ago, and I know damn well it doesn’t take that long to get back to Texas from Bermuda. Especially with Archie Jacobs’s credit card.

Secondly, her whole thing about making sure I knew she came here first, as if I’d need her to come here rather than her ailing husband’s hospital room, is obnoxious.

“
Lovely
to see you, Joanne,” Tom says warmly, standing and striding over to take her hand.

She smiles at him, thanking him with some more air kisses before almost
flirtingly
waving him off like he’s some sort of suitor at a cocktail party.

Richard’s face seems to mirror my own as he coughs stiffly.

“We were just discussing your husband’s wishes for London to step forward as head of the club in his absence, Mrs. Jacobs.”

Her smile fades as her eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh?”

Her mouth goes small as Richard nods.

“I see.” She nods quietly, as if to herself, before she clasps her hands and looks plaintively around the room. “Well, I think we
all
want what’s best for the team.”

“Which is LJ,” Louis says with a grumbling huff.

Joanne smiles like a shark at him, laughing a lilting laugh and waving her hand again.

“Oh, London does
wonderful
things for this team, of course,” she says with another light cocktail party laugh.

She’s patronizing me.

Big time.

And suddenly, I’m
very
curious why she’s here.

“Now, I’m not saying she shouldn’t be,” Joanne says, taking what was formerly Richard’s seat at the head of the table. “Of
course
I’m the first to agree with dear Archie’s decisions.”

Bullshit.

I narrow my eyes at my stepmother.

“
All
I’m saying is that we should all just sit on it for a minute or two. We’re
grieving
right now, so-”

“He’s not
dead
, Joanne,” I say icily.

She turns and smiles widely at me.

“Oh of
course not
, sweetness.” She picks at one long red fingernail.

“
Bereaved
then. Worried about him. In any case, I say we wait and take a vote later, when cool heads can prevail.”

Louis grunts from his side of the table, his bushy silver eyebrows furrowing.

“Cool heads say LJ.”

“Her name is
London,
dear,” Joanne says dismissively.

“You know,” Tom stands, clearing his throat and adjusting his tie. “I’d also be interested in giving it some time.” He looks right at me. “All due respect, London.”

A cold shiver runs through me.

Something
is going on here. I tear my scowl away from Tom and center it on Joanne, who’s still sitting at the head of the table picking at something under a nail.

What the hell is her angle here?

“Well, you all do what you
need
to do, it was just a suggestion,” she says flippantly, still picking at her nails.

Richard glares at Tom with a stern look.

“Thomas-”

“Hey, hey,” Tom holds his hands up, chuckling. “I’m just saying let’s give it a day or two and see what we think, aright? Maybe Joanne has a point.”

That’s it.

I stand abruptly, shaking my head.

“You know what, I don’t need a day or two.”

I turn to Richard.

“I’ll sign. I’m ready.”

And it doesn’t matter if I’m not, because something’s going on here that’s setting off an alarm in my head. And what I need to do right now is protect my dad’s team.

Richard sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m afraid you can’t now, London.”

“Excuse me?”

He fixes me with a look.

“The board has to be unanimous for you to sign over as head of the organization, and
apparently-
” he shoots a look at Tom. “Apparently, we’re not.”

There’s a cold feeling in my gut as I blink and start to process what he’s just said. I look past him, and this time, Joanne’s not looking at her nails.

She’s looking at me.

And she’s smiling.

I can feel the anger rushing through me as I start to stand abruptly, ready to give Joanne a piece of my mind. But Richard’s hand is there on my shoulder, calming me down a notch.

“Why don’t we adjourn for now, and we’ll revisit this once all
voting
board members-” he looks sharply at Joanne, “Have had time to see
clearly
.” He directs the last part of his statement at Tom, his eyes narrowed at the younger man.

Richard officially adjourns the meeting. Everyone starts to stand and collect their things, but Joanne just stays right in her seat at the head of the table, tapping through her phone.

Smiling.

* * *

I
’m
out of that boardroom in a flash, my mind still trying to put together what the hell just happened, when there’s a hand on my arm. I whirl, jerking my arm back on instinct and narrow my eyes at
Tom
.

“Look, London-”

“What the
hell
was that in there, Tom?”

I set my jaw, glaring at the man with the slicked-back hair and expensive suit.

He’s smiling -
just
like Joanne was.

“Listen, I just wanted to explain it all to you.”

“Please do,” I mutter, folding my arms across my chest and scowling.

“I think you should be in charge of this organization.”

I bark out a thin laugh.

“Great, we’re in agreement.”

Tom nods slowly.

“They’re a tricky bunch, that board. Old boys, you know?” He makes a clicking sound with his teeth. “I mean, a girl in charge?” He shrugs. “Hey, you know I’m down with that feminism stuff, but they might not be.”

I stare at Tom.

“
Feminism stuff?
” I roll my eyes. “Tom, we’re talking about me temporarily running my dad’s team, not campaigning for suffrage or the right to wear pants in the office.”

He chuckles as he shrugs again.

“Hey, I’m just saying they might not be into the idea of you being in charge.”

“They sure seemed into it.”

“They might be persuaded otherwise.”

A shiver runs down my spine as I narrow my eyes at the little shit in front of me.

“Excuse me?”

Tom laughs again, shaking his head.

“C’mon London, let me take you out again. You
know
there’s chemistry here,” he says, wagging a finger between the two of us.

“You can’t be serious.”

I slowly shake my head at him, my jaw dropping as the pieces click together.

“Are you seriously holding the board vote over my head so I’ll
go out
with you?” I can feel the heat rising inside as I glare daggers at Tom. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He laughs, loudly, holding his hands up in front of him as he shakes his head.

“Whoa! Whoa! That’s not what I said, baby.”

“Don’t call me
baby
,” I hiss. “And you know damn well it’s what you’re implying.”

“Well, I guess it’s one way of looking at things, isn’t it?”

“Fuck you, Tom,” I spit out. “Who the
hell
do you think I am?”

“Hey! I’m not implying anything.” He grins at me as he leans against the wall next to us, as if he actually thinks he’s smooth talking me here somehow.

“Just a date. It’s just dinner, London. I’m not one of these Neanderthal football guys you work around. I’m not looking for a notch or whatever, just dinner.”

“It’s not happening, Tom,” I say icily. “And if you try and hold up something like
this
in the boardroom because your lame attempt at blackmailing me into a date didn’t work, I’ll make
sure
they all know why, you little weasel.”

The smirking grin drops from Tom’s face as his look sours.

“You-” He narrows his eyes at me and he stops himself, his lips going tight like he’s holding something back. “One date, babe,” he finally says. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“Get fucked, Tom.”

And then I’m whirling and stomping away, throwing up a middle finger on my way around the corner.

* * *

T
he bravado lasts
all of thirty seconds until I get around the corner, and then I’m running into the lady’s room. I barely make it to the stall before the remains of my lunch come back up in a horrible wave of nausea. I wince as I kneel by the toilet, tears stinging my eyes as my stomach heaves twice more. Finally, I sit back with a shaky breath.