Page 46 of Broken Play (The O’Ryan Family #1)

FORTY-SIX

SUTTON

My fingers tap incessantly on my desk, which is covered with photos and blackmail. I close my eyes for an instant. Hurry, Greyson. I push the microphone button for Marlon. "Please send in Greyson as soon as he gets here."

"Sure thing." Marlon's usual chipper self seems over the top today, and I felt the very same way when I walked in this morning, practically prancing through the office.

Okay, not prancing; that's not me. But I felt like I was floating, knowing that Greyson and I are in love and want to tell the world.

I hear jogging footsteps approaching my door. I'm positive he thinks I called him up for a kiss, and damn, I wish I did. He appears in the doorway. "Hey, Boss Lady." He winks with his boyish charm and seductive smile.

"Close the door."

"Am I in trouble?"

"We're in trouble."

He sighs, "Sutton, don't back out now. If we can't be together out in the open, what does that mean? It means you don't think we're worth the trouble." He sits his ass on the corner of my desk, our eyes locked together.

I pick up the yellow envelope I received in the mail and slide the bracelet out. "Someone found my bracelet."

"Thank God. I know it means a lot to you.

Is that why you called me up here? Because as long as I get to tell the world that my girlfriend is none other than the smoking-hot general manager for the Austin Armadillos, I'm good with it.

" He laughs at his own joke, and I want to laugh with him, but I can't.

His eyes roam over my desk, and he picks up a picture of us at the waterfall. "Did Paulina take this? It's a great shot."

I hand him the most damning photo, unable to look him in the eye. "No. I don't know who took any of these."

My hands are shaking so badly I can't hold on to my Armadillo mug. The images are unmistakable—Greyson and me, tangled together in the locker room, half-naked and exposed. My stomach twists with nausea and panic, shame rushing in, hot and suffocating.

Greyson stands behind my desk, tense and furious, his fists clenched at his sides.

His face is red with anger. "Who the fuck took these photos?

" he snarls, and the anger in his voice only makes my heart pound harder.

I want to dissolve, to disappear, but all I can do is clutch my phone and look up at him, feeling helpless—violated and brittle, like I might crumble if he touches me.

A tear slips down my face. "Why would someone do this to me or to you? I thought everyone liked us."

He surrounds me with his long arms, and for a moment I'm safe, but am I?

"Everyone loves you. Maybe someone loves you too much. You think Bodhi's behind this? "

"How would he have access to the locker room? Sure, he could have a private investigator following us outside of here, but a key is required for the locker room, and fewer than a dozen people have one. One of those people is me."

He pushes back and asks, "Was there anything else with the photos and the bracelet?"

I pull out a typed note, which reads:

The photos will be released if you don't meet the following conditions:

Bench the quarterback.

Break up with the quarterback.

Ten million dollars to this account.

You have three weeks, or the world will see the slut you are.

"Babe, there's only one thing to do. We go public ourselves. Now. I wo

I stand and walk to the window, staring down at the field, my body shaking. "No, we can't take the chance. Do you have ten million dollars... like, on hand?"

"Yeah, but I'm not giving it to some low-life pervert intruding on other people's privacy," he scoffs.

"We shouldn't have..."

"But we did. We thought we were alone."

I place my hand over my nose, then slowly drag it across my mouth, releasing a fearful exhale.

"I'll never be able to show my face around here again.

I love this job. I never thought I would say that, but it's fulfilling in so many ways.

Running the foundation. Helping disadvantaged children.

Working with the interns and the overall camaraderie and team atmosphere of the Armadillos. "

"And me... don't forget you love me." He grabs me in a tight embrace and attempts to kiss the anxiety away.

Rewarding him with a tight-lipped smile, I say, "And you. I love watching you do what you love and how skilled you are on and off the field. But we... can't see each other. I don't see any other way without my vagina being shown to millions of people around the world."

"That's not happening. You are mine, and I'm not giving you up for any reason." He pushes my hair behind my ear. "I want a list of all the people who have keys to the locker room. We have three weeks, so we'll start there, and I'm telling my family about us at dinner tonight. Can you come?"

Reluctantly, I agree.

He looks as if he's had an epiphany. "Maybe it's J.D. He's already given the blackmailer his first demand. He dropped me to the scout team this week."

"Scout team?"

"The coach says he can't give me preferential treatment."

"It's a good rule."

He gives me a kiss he calls Triple Wide Go, kissing both cheeks and then my lips. "It's a stupid rule. I thought my girl was getting back together with her ex."

I love it when he refers to me as "his girl."