Page 108 of Twisted Shot
Except Janet.
Janet Eagan-Tilbury, with the glacial smile that never quite reached her eyes. That woman doesn’t do favors. If she pulled strings, it wasn’t out of affection for Mila.
Her heart does a weird, stuttering backflip—then lands on the only explanation. Theo. He must have called her. Somehow, he convinced his mother to step in.
A laugh prickles at the back of her throat, thickened by the sudden sting of tears. She doesn’t know if she wants to laugh, cry, or buy a ticket to wherever he is and kiss him until her knees give out.
Let’s see Richard try to take credit forthis.
“But that’s not my news,” Jim says, oblivious to the emotional rollercoaster he’s sent Mila on. “I’ve had a serious offer to buy the team.”
Her heart plummets to her stomach. For months, she’s been preparing for this, for the inevitability of change, for Jesse spiraling and Natalie and Jake having to move for the umpteenth time and Theo shutting down the second he smells instability. She’s been bracing for the crash.
“Oh?” Mila says carefully, her heartbeat doing its best impression of a rave under her ribs. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” he says, tone warm but purposeful. “This season’s been the best in a long time. Best energy. Bestcommunity engagement. Most profitable quarter we’ve had in a decade. You’ve helped the team look strong, Mila. And I want to thank you.”
“It’s been our pleasure, Jim. Honestly—an honor. And a lot of fun.”
“You’re talking like this is goodbye,” Jim says mildly.
Her stomach tightens.
“I’m not selling.”
She blinks. “You’re not?”
“Nope. I’ve got something good here. Something real. And that’s in large part thanks to you. You helped bring this place back to life.”
It takes her a second to register the words, and another to remember how to respond. “That’s…I don’t even know what to say.”
“And expect something from legal next week,” Jim adds, almost casually. “We’re sending over paperwork to extend your firm’s contract another two years. Figured it was time we made this official.”
Before she can muster anything resembling coherent speech, Jim wraps up the call and hangs up with the ease of a man who just tossed her a career-defining win like it was a spare pen.
Mila sets the phone down, grinning so wide her cheeks hurt. Not just because she nailed it for her client. Not just because she’s keeping the account.
Because there’s no way in hell Richard is taking this away from her.
“Come in,” Jaryd’s baritone rumbles from behind the heavy mahogany door.
Mila swallows—or tries to, but her throat is a desert. She pushes the door open, her heart slamming against her ribs like it’s trying to stage a jailbreak. This had seemed like a solid idea when she dialed his number, when she practiced her speech in the elevator mirror.
But now? Now she’s standing in Jaryd’s massive office—alone—and suddenly remembers she’s only been in here a handful of times. Always with her whole team. Safety in numbers. This time, no buffer. Just her and the most intimidating man alive.
Jaryd watches her expectantly from behind his massive desk. His silver hair is immaculately combed, shirt sleeves rolled just enough toreveal the edge of the luxury watch he never mentions but everyone notices.
“You wanted to speak with me?” he says, rising smoothly and gesturing for her to join him on the sleek leather club chairs that frame his corner view.
Mila forces her feet forward, wondering if it’s possible to stop herself from sweating through sheer willpower alone.
“Yes.” She sits, resisting the urge to fidget. “It’s about the Whalers’ account.”
“Oh?” His brows lift. “I thought we’d cover that this afternoon.”
“This is a bit more delicate,” Mila says, carefully sticking to her script. “I wanted to address it directly with you. There’s been…some conversation about who’s running point.”
“I imagine this is between you and Richard?”
