Page 139 of Renegade Ruin

“If that’s everything…” Nikki hits her stack of papers into a uniformed pile on the table. Her gaze lingers in my direction, as if she’s waiting for me to put up a fight. I give her a slight nod to continue and her face falls. “Okay, we’ll adjourn for today and hand over everything we have of Mr. York’s to the league’s investigators. We’ll reconvene Monday after the gala this weekend.”

Her declaration is met with nods and a few grunts of agreement before the room erupts in a shuffling of chairs as the board attempts to hightail it out of there for their nine AM tee time. I heard them talking about how they’d have just enough time to play nine holes and still make it back for drinks at the game after lunch.

My stomach twists, and I swallow the bile that threatens at the back of my throat. None of them care about this team as long as they receive a paycheck and can continue their memberships at the country club.

How the hell am I supposed to fix this? At every turn, I take one step forward and two steps back.

Bishop was my win, and even though I’m ecstatic we’re on the same page, I still want this. This team is my future as much as he is.

“Willow?”

I glance up at the commissioner. He hasn’t moved from his seat. Hands flat against the tabletop, he looks at me with a hintof pity I don’t want or need. What I need is for him to step up and do his damn job instead of rolling over for the boys’ club he only barely has a leg up on.

Calm and collected, I address him with a flat voice. “Can I help you, George?”

His eyes dart around the room, like he’s looking to see if there’s anyone in earshot. Once the room clears out, he speaks. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry this is happening. You have a good head on your shoulders and don’t deserve this.”

I chew my cheek to stop my mouth from dropping. The words are hollow and filled with inaction, but at least he said them. That’s a step up from where we were even a month ago.

“Thank you for saying that. I hope the league will keep that in mind moving forward.”

George nods, slides his chair back, and stands. He hesitates, wrapping one hand around the fist of his other, and shakes his head like he’s warring with himself. His eyes track back to mine and the pity is replaced by determination. “When this all blows over, I’d like to discuss your plans without the board.”

“I—” My words stutter as I process what he just said. “I’d like that.”

“Good. They may not be suited for the Renegades, at the moment, but some of them are heading in the right direction and I think the league will benefit from considering the fans who support us.”

Then he’s gone. Leaving me to sit in stunned silence.

What was that? Did I just witness the beginnings of George Falco growing a spine? Was this my small win?

Relaxing into the plush conference room chair, I exhale a sigh. This entire meeting was nothing but a power move by the board, but if I walk away with an ally in the commissioner it will have been worth enduring.

I check my watch and see that I have about forty minutes until the team meeting in the clubhouse. Just enough time to find Bishop and update him—or invite him to my office to pick up where we left off last night.

Definitely the second option.

I shoot off a text asking Bishop to find me, grab my things, and head out into the executive corridor with a renewed pep in my step. That is until I see Vaughn leaning against the wall just outside the door, clearly waiting for me.

My stomach churns. Nothing good can come from the wry smile on his face. Why can’t he just leave well enough alone?

“Willow,” he says. “A word?”

My mouth goes dry, and I don’t miss how his smile stretches higher when I swallow hard. “What now, Vaughn?”

He pulls something out of his inner coat pocket, offering it to me.

The stack of photos might as well have been a live grenade. My ears fill with the sound of my pulse as I flip through them, each one more damning than the next.

Bishop and I walking up the steps of my private jet.

Me entering his room at the team hotel.

Him entering my gated community.

Bishop’s hand wrapped in mine as I lead him into the elevator in Miami.

The two of us on my balcony kissing.

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