Page 39 of Executive Decision

“He wanted me to come back and help. Don’t tell Davey,” I said. “It would make him so jealous. He’s being a prick. Dahlia is still in Paris. Lanie is about to return to LA—probably with your sister.”

“They are bonded.”

“Derrick’s leave pass is up. He has to go back to base. And Dora must return to college. There’s nothing more I can do to hold us together.”

“It’s not all on you. It will work out, Daph,” Cal assured.

“I want to help, but I’m so broken, I’m a liability. I don’t know why Dad would say he wanted me involved.”

“Daphne, I have a secret to tell you,” Cal whispered.

“What is it?”

“Your Dad always thought you should have run the show. He always trusted your opinion most of all. Davey knows that—we all do—and it’s why there’s some tension. I know the two of you can make a good team, though. You can make it work.”

I looked into Cal’s big brown eyes and shook my head. “What happened to me, Cal? That I trust you know my dad more than I did.”

“A man took you far, far away and isolated you. Shit happens. I watched men do it to my mom again and again when I was a kid. But you’re young, beautiful, and going to be okay,” Cal said.

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. For a second, I felt like he might kiss me.

He smiled and stood. “I should get back out there.”

“Sure,” I agreed.

I should have been relieved to be back alone where I felt closest to my dad. Without Cal, it suddenly felt much lonelier. Was he telling the truth? Did Dad want me to have the business? If so, why was I dumb enough to follow Chandler to London forever?

14DUMB BALLS

Daphne

Bang!Bang! Bang!

I popped up. Where was I? In three weeks, I’d lived in three countries—the UK, then France, the UK, France, and finally back home in the States. Opening my eyes, I realized I was in my childhood bedroom and the person doing the annoying banging was one of my sisters.

“Daph! Get up! We’re going to the gym.”

Lanie’s voice was little comfort. I was jet-lagged, mortified that my divorce filings wereallover the news, and exhausted. I did not want to wear tight clothes and parade around the elite athletic club my sister was undoubtedly mentioning.

“Lanie, have mercy on me.”

“Nope. Your next life startstoday,and it starts with an amazing piece of ass named Paolo barking orders at you in the sexiest growl imaginable.”

I groaned. Ididlove a good growl, and it had been so long since I’d feasted my eyes on a man worth thirsting over. Hell, just thethoughtof someone touching me to adjust my swing sounded positively lovely.

“Fine,” I said. “Let me change.”

I put on tennis whites and a pair of new trainers I bought in Paris. While my assets were currently frozen, my mother’s credit card would do. Our divorce went from non-existent to downright contentious overnight. Like good attorneys, Chandler and I clawed each other’s eyes out. He wanted the London townhome I’d inherited from my aunt and most of my poorly-timed inheritance.

I found my sisters waiting at the steps. Dora smiled as if relieved to see me alive. Lanie looked picture-perfect, taking a selfie as I approached.

“Lanie, can you take a picture another time?” I asked.

“Fine, fine,” Lanie said. “But my agent really wants me to up the ante before this audition. It’s a huge show. Social media presence is everything!”

We piled in our waiting car—Lanie and I in the middle, and Dora in the way-back seat. Some things never changed. We went to the North Shore Tennis and Athletic Club where our mother served on the board. It was a members-only gem of old Chicago society old-money types. No matter the type of cash in their pocket, one did not simply become a member. They wereinvited.

We filed to the courts, where a very handsome man in a tight polo greeted us.Thiswas Paolo. And, as promised, he was lovely. As he bent over to pick up a ball, we all watched, not focused on a word he was saying but his tight little ass.

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