Page 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chelsea

I was still on a high from the night before, when I got a text on my phone that Dominic King wanted to see me.

That was all, just a text.

At my earliest convenience, please.

At least he was polite.

Or his PA was, anyway.

The high ended abruptly.

Of course reality had to crash back down, it always did.

Doctor Stuart must have seen my face, because he was looking over the top of his laptop, his eyebrows raised.

"Anything wrong?"

"The GM wants to see me." I tucked my phone into my pocket and started to turn back to reorganising files on my laptop.

Doctor Stuart was good at a lot of things, but he handed this over to me because it wasn't one of them.

"Then you go," he waved me away. "That can wait until later."

I started to shut down my laptop. Grateful, because I didn't want to spend the next hour or two wondering what King had to say.

"Do you have any idea what this is about?"

"Not a clue," Doctor Stuart said.

"I'm guessing he's not planning to fire you, because he would have mentioned that to me first."

I wasn't sure if that was the case, but I was grateful for the reassurance. If nothing else, it settled my racing heart a little. Of course, King could be asking me up to his office to kill me, but that wouldn't be subtle.

Me going missing in the middle of the day would not go unnoticed.

"I'll try not to be long." I pulled my phone out again and shot a quick text off to the group chat I had with the guys, to let them know where I was going. If I did go missing, they'd know where to start looking and pointing fingers.

Before any of them could answer, I put my phone away and headed down to the elevators. After what felt like days of waiting, the doors finally opened and I stepped inside. I pressed the button to take me two floors higher and practiced my breathing exercises while the carriage rose.

The doors finally slid open and I stepped out, my heels clicking on the floor as I made my way to the desk in front of the GM's office. The woman who sat behind the desk reminded me of the teapot in Beauty and the Beast . Older, motherly. Not the kind of person I would have expected to find here. Which was probably the point.

"Doctor Chelsea Miller, to see the GM," I said. "He wanted to see me?"

"Oh yes, sweetie," she said, adding to the whole motherly vibe. If she was the kind of woman Dominic King would hire, maybe I was wrong about him. Or maybe she was here to confuse people like me. Throw us off so we weren't on guard around him. Unfortunately for him, I wasn't that na?ve.

"Please, go on in." She half-rose and waved towards the door. "It shouldn't take too long. It better not, or I'll shake my finger at him again for working too hard." She finished with a laugh.

"We wouldn't want that," I said.

I reminded myself she was probably the enemy and would be as likely to wave a gun at me as a finger.

I stepped over to the door and pushed the rest of the way open.

"You wanted to see me?" I asked.

He held up a finger and listened to the phone that was pressed against his ear.

"Make sure it gets done," he said.

"Yes, that's right. Good." Without saying goodbye, he ended the call. He set the phone down on the desk beside his laptop and steepled his fingers.

"Close the door."

I took a step back and did as he asked, keeping my eyes on him the whole time. He wasn't someone I'd comfortably turn my back on. Although, if I did, I wouldn't have to see the calculating look in his eyes.

"Have a seat." He nodded to the chair opposite him.

Slowly, I sank down into it, my hands in my lap. If I looked non-threatening, maybe he'd be the same. I got the impression he wasn't about to pull out a gun and use it on me. No, whatever he wanted was worse than that.

"How are you settling in?" he asked.

Oh good, small talk.

I managed a smile. "Really well, thank you. What about you? How are you finding managing the Smashers?" It didn't hurt to be nice, right?

"Interesting and stimulating," he said. "I'd imagine you've found it the same?"

"Definitely," I said. I was pretty sure I found it interesting and stimulating in very different ways to him, but it was both of those things. "It's been everything I hoped it would be and more. Every day is a new challenge."

"Indeed." He inclined his head.

"Each day, I don't know what I'll be faced with. It keeps things fresh and all of us on our toes."

"I feel exactly the same," I said carefully.

"I love working for the team."

"I haven't brought you here to fire you," he said. "Quite the opposite."

That was a relief. Wasn't it? On second thought, what was the opposite of being fired? I wasn't quite sure. I had a feeling I wasn't going to like it, but I threw my hat in the ring by talking to Otis Skinner. Sooner or later this conversation was going to happen.

"That's great," I said. "What did you have in mind? I don't think Doctor Stuart is ready to retire yet." That might be the opposite of being fired. It seemed unlikely he'd promote me instead of Otis Skinner. A girl could dream, right?

"I trust he isn't," King agreed.

"His expertise is invaluable to the team."

I was relieved to hear that.

Apparently Doctor Stuart wasn't getting in their way. Not yet, at least.

"It really is," I agreed. "I've learned so much from him and Doctor Skinner. I'm lucky to be able to work with both of them." Was I gushing? A little bit. Maybe I shouldn't lay it on so thick.

"Doctor Skinner mentioned your interest in his work," King said smoothly.

"He suggested you might wish to become more involved. More…hands-on."

I swallowed.

"I would," I agreed.

Okay, I lied through my teeth.

"If his work is the way of the future, I'd rather be on board now than…become obsolete." No doubt he'd follow my double meaning.

"You really think that'll happen?" he asked.

"Plenty of people have placed bets on the wrong team," I said. "They tend to regret it. I want to put my money on the right team. When the game is over, I want to be standing on the field, celebrating the win, not crying over the loss."

He nodded slowly. "I always find it wiser to back the right team. Some people believe, because a team has always taken the cup, they always will."

"That's na?ve," I said. In football and in life. No one won all the time. "Especially when the new team has fresh blood and the determination to win. Let the old team get complacent. They'll realise their mistake eventually."

"You think the Brantley family has become complacent?" he asked bluntly.

"Why wouldn't they?" I asked without blinking. "It's been years since anyone truly opposed them. Who wouldn't get complacent? If anyone was going to take advantage of that, now would be the time. But that's just my opinion." I sat back.

"I'm of the same opinion," he said. "I think your brother, you and your boyfriends will be useful to me. The question is, can I trust any of you?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I said. He'd be expecting me to say something like that. If I was too willing to jump straight in, he'd be suspicious.

"That remains to be seen," he said. "I have a job for you. If you can carry it out, I may have more." He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk. "I happen to agree that the Brantley family has become complacent. We'll show them the consequences of that. There's power to be taken and we're going to take it."

I smiled. "As long as you leave some of it for me. And my brother. Believe me when I say things won't end well if you try to leave him out of it. There's not much he wouldn't do."

"I'd expect nothing less of Doctor Isaac Miller," King said. "I'd much prefer to work with him than have to have him killed."

As if killing my brother would be easy. I tried to keep most of the scorn off my face. A fraction of it would be okay. I was supposed to have faith in me and my brother, so he'd be expecting that exact response.

"He'd also prefer that," I said.

"Working with you instead of having to kill you." I smiled sweetly.

I didn't want him to think I was threatening him. I was just stating a fact.

He actually smiled. "You have some backbone. I like that. Do you have enough of it to do what I'm going to ask you to do?"

I met his gaze unwavering. "I have the spine, if it's in my best interest to do what you request." I wasn't going to say, ‘yes sir, no sir’ and behave myself like a good little minion.

Even after trying to stay out of the lifestyle, I had some clout.

My brother had even more.

Enough that we didn't have to roll over and play dead. If we did that, King would try to walk all over us. That wasn't going to happen.

Not to mention that none of my guys, or my brother, would go for it anyway.

King didn't flinch. "Otis Skinner mentioned you discussed Coach Stanley with him."

"That's right," I inclined my head slightly. "He suggested Stanley doesn't agree with the direction you want the team to go."

"He doesn't, and I don't believe he'll come around to our way of thinking," King said. "I want him taken care of."

I blinked. "I see. You want me to take care of him."

That was fucking perfect, wasn't it? Not.

"If you're up to it," he said. King seemed certain I wasn't and that he was about to call my bluff. That I'd make some excuse and get the hell out of the building. Maybe out of Dusk Bay.

"I'm up to it," I said, also unflinching. "I'll quietly take care of him and leave you to replace him with someone more suitable."

He actually seemed surprised, but rallied quickly. "Good. You have two days. I don't care what you do, but if it can be traced back to me, you'll be the one with regrets."

With more confidence than I felt, I snorted. "This isn't amateur hour. No one will know what really happened to Coach Stanley but us. Nothing will be traceable back to us. No one will have a reason to sniff around, or have suspicions. Except for the short amount of time between the death of the former GM and then the head coach."

"I'm sure you can make it convincing," he said. "That will be all."

Resisting the urge to respond to his curt dismissal, I stood and slipped out of the room.