Page 65 of Goal Line (Boston Rebels #4)

Chapter Forty-Eight

LUKE

I say Eva’s name for a second time, just to make sure she’s still asleep. She doesn’t stir, so I pull out my phone and call Preston. I don’t want any of this in writing, even in a text message.

I’ve spent the past hour since she first fell asleep figuring out who this Hans guy is. I started with the major sponsors of the international figure skating organization, and from there, it wasn’t hard to find the company owned by Hans and Adele Becker.

What I was not expecting, however, was to stumble upon several pictures of him that looked eerily similar to me. Could it be that she turned to this guy Hans, in her moment of need, because he reminded her of me?

As much as it drives me crazy that I wasn’t there to comfort her that night in Italy, as much as it pains me that she slept with him and that his DNA is a part of our baby, I feel a tiny sense of relief too.

Because while I’ve never voiced it, I’ve definitely worried that our baby might look nothing like me.

“Luke?” Preston’s voice comes through my phone, and he sounds worried.

“Yeah.”

“Why are you calling so late?”

Shit...I hadn’t even considered the fact that it was almost midnight.

“Sorry, man, but I might need your help with something.”

“Where are you?”

“At the hospital with Eva.”

“She okay?”

“No. She has really high blood pressure, which I guess can happen during pregnancy, so they’ve admitted her, and we may need to deliver the baby early. That’s not why I’m calling through.”

“Oh?”

I swallow. “There’s this guy, and I need some information on his business. It looks like the company is publicly traded, and I want to know what I’d have to do to procure fifty-one percent of the stock.”

“You want to buy his business out from under him?”

“I want to know whether that’s an option.”

“Who is it, and what’s the name of his company? I’ll see what I can find out and get back to you shortly.”

“Thanks, man.” I give him Hans’s information and hang up, appreciating that Preston didn’t press me for more details. And then I continue researching everything I can find out about him and his wife.

Thirty minutes later, I’m wondering what “shortly” meant to Preston. I know it’s late at night, and I’m asking him to gather intel on a person he doesn’t know, but even this short wait is killing me. I should have clarified that I really needed to hear back from him tonight. The sooner the better.

There’s a light knock as the door is pushed open, and I glance over, expecting to see a nurse. In the doorway stand my brothers.

As shocked and confused as I am at their appearance, I motion them in, holding my finger to my lips so they don’t wake Eva.

The nurse who was here before Eva dozed off said she’d be in every three hours to get her vitals, so I want to make sure she at least gets those few hours of sleep in between visits.

“What are you guys doing here?” I whisper as I give each of them the classic Hartmann one-arm hug. I don’t want my confusion to stop them from understanding how grateful I am to see them.

“Seemed like you needed some backup,” Preston says with a shrug.

“How the hell did you guys get in here after visiting hours?”

“You’re asking the wrong questions,” Tristan says.

“Oh yeah? What are the right questions in this situation?”

“Maybe why you thought we wouldn’t show up if you needed us?” Tucker suggests.

Hmmm. “Who said I needed you?”

“You don’t go toe to toe with a guy like Hans Becker alone. Just because you don’t work for the family business doesn’t mean you don’t have our support,” Preston says as he takes a seat next to me on the couch.

It’s only then that I stop to wonder whether my brothers are closer to each other than they are to me because I’m so much younger, like I’ve always assumed, or if it’s because I’ve distanced myself—either intentionally or not—assuming they were a triumvirate that I could never be part of.

“Technically, Tucker doesn’t work for Hartmann Enterprises anymore either,” Tristan says, planting himself in the chair nearest the couch.

We don’t talk about how Tucker had to walk away from the family business after his failed engagement, but I always wonder if he’d rather still be doing that work than being the CEO of the Boston Rebels.

“And yet, I’m still a Hartmann,” Tucker responds, clapping me on the shoulder. “Funny how that works.”

“So tell us what’s going on, and let us help you fix it,” Preston says, nodding to Tucker to take the other chair nearest Eva’s bed.

“Okay, but I need you to not ask too many questions. There are some things that I just can’t tell you,” I say, keeping my voice low, and my brothers all lean in as I fill them in.

I don’t tell them that he’s the biological father of our baby, just that he and Eva had “a thing” before we were together, he’s recently popped back up, and I’d like to make sure he stays as far away from our life as possible.

My brothers all pull out their phones, and we get to work identifying everything that this man values, so we can figure out the quickest way to pull it all out from under him.

“ H ey.” I stroke my hand over Eva’s hair as I kiss her forehead. I’m trying not to focus on the bruise that’s forming around her forearm, no doubt where Hans grabbed her last night. I need to stay levelheaded right now, and the knowledge that he physically hurt her doesn’t help.

She blinks a few times before focusing on my face. “What time is it?”

“It’s early. I need to go meet with our lawyers?—”

“We have lawyers?”

I chuckle at how half-asleep Eva is asking silly questions. “Of course we do. And then I’ll head over to meet Hans. Morgan’s going to stop by in about an hour, but I didn’t want you to wake up and wonder where I’d gone.”

“Did I dream that your brothers were here in the middle of the night, or did that really happen?”

She’s about as awake now as she was at two in the morning when the nurse came in to take her vitals, and found the four Hartmann brothers with their heads tucked close together, plotting in hushed whispers.

“Yeah, they stopped by.”

Her hand coasts over the swell of her belly. “Do they know?”

“No. But they helped me figure out the best way to make sure Hans stays out of our lives forever.”

Her eyebrows draw together in concern, and then she chuckles. “Is it legal?”

“Honey, we’re Hartmanns. We don’t need to do illegal shit. We just stay two steps ahead of everyone else.”

She bites her lip and gives me a nod. “Hurry back.”

“Of course.” I press a soft kiss to her lips and head out to meet our lawyers.

Two hours later, I’m walking into the coffee shop where Hans told Eva to meet him.

I move through the crowd of people in line and find him sitting in the back with a cappuccino on the table in front of him.

I drop a manilla envelope on the table before I pull out the chair. His head snaps up in surprise.

“That seat’s taken,” he says.

“Doesn’t look taken.” I sit.

“I’m expecting someone.”

“Well, I’m here instead.”

His eyes narrow, and he reminds me a bit of my brothers—confident and accustomed to giving orders, not taking them.

“Where’s Eva?”

“My wife was hospitalized last night after you assaulted her outside the event.”

His head rears back in shock, but his voice is low when he says, “I didn’t assault her. I simply asked to speak to her this morning.”

“S imply asking to speak with her left a pressure bruise around her arm and sent her blood pressure spiking so high she almost had a seizure right outside the restaurant. The hospital has already documented the injury and I’m sure there’s ample video footage of the incident on the security cameras of all these businesses.

My lawyers are working on getting the recordings as we speak. ”

His voice is a quiet growl when he says, “I barely touched her.”

“The bruising on her arm would suggest otherwise.” I rest my elbows on the table, steepling my fingers together as I lean forward, channeling Preston as I say, “I don’t take kindly to people who hurt those I love.”

He holds his hands up in front of him and says, “I had no intention of hurting her. I only grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving so I could talk to her.”

“Intimidate her, you mean?”

“No. I only requested that we meet up to talk this morning.”

I lean back in my seat and lift an eyebrow. “And tell me, Hans. What exactly did you want to talk about?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t even know who you are, and you expect me to talk to you about this?”

I hold out my hand. “Luke Hartmann. Eva’s husband.”

“Hartmann?” he says, staring at my hand rather than taking it. It’s clear he recognizes the name. And although it sounds like Eva introduced herself as a Hartmann last night, he obviously hadn’t made the connection.

In the early hours of this morning, my brothers and I learned that his wife, Adele, had replaced her father as the head of the family’s automobile manufacturing business in Germany well over a decade ago, and grew it into a global operation—not unlike what my father did with Hartmann Enterprises, and what Preston has continued to do since Dad retired.

She met Hans when she decided to hire someone with more international experience to replace her as CEO of her family’s business. Now she serves as the president of the board of directors, but technically, the company is hers and he just works for her.

We’ve done business with them in the past, and according to Tristan, he had to step in when Hans tried to change the terms of a sale of microchips he was purchasing from one of our subsidiary companies. From what I understand, Tristan only gets involved if you’ve fucked up .

“Yes, those Hartmanns.” I drop my hand since he’s made no move to shake it.

Hans clears his throat nervously.

“So, let me explain to you what it looks like when you fuck with the wrong family.” I don’t like to be this guy, but I’ve sat through enough board meetings—and seen Preston at his absolute finest—to know that sometimes you have to remove any possibility of compromise because the stakes are too high, or the people involved are too important, to entertain any outcome but the one you’ve already decided on.

“That private island in the Mediterranean that you and Adele love to spend a month on every summer? I bought it a few hours ago?—”

“Impossible. The family said they’d never sell it.”

“Maybe what they meant was that they’d never sell it to you .

And that luxury box you’ve had your eye on in Munich?

My family is really looking forward to taking it over so we can catch a football game a few times a year.

Oh, and the contract you were about to sign for the new headquarters in Berlin?

That space has, unfortunately, just been leased. ”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Oh, you don’t like it when people toy with things you care about? How about people? Eva tells me that your wife is absolutely lovely. How would she feel if she knew that you are worried you might have conceived a child with someone else?”

His face drains of color.

“Let me be very clear. My next move is to buy up fifty-one percent of the stock in your company. Bad move, by the way, convincing your wife to sell so many of her shares. With that much stock available, anyone with enough money can become the majority shareholder and demand the board appoint a new CEO.”

“All this because I had sex with your wife?” The absolute arrogance in his voice and look of indifference on his face, as if Eva isn’t worthy of his concern, remove any guilt I might have felt about taking such an extreme approach.

He’s getting exactly what he deserves after messing with the most precious person in my world.

“Let’s be very clear. She was not my wife when you were with her, so she has nothing to feel ashamed about.

I imagine your wife, on the other hand, might not feel so forgiving when she hears about what happened.

Especially when she can only sit by and watch as the Hartmanns buy up fifty-one percent of her company, before breaking it apart and selling it piece by fucking piece. ”

He balls his hands into fists and clenches his jaw, knowing he’s been bested. “You wouldn’t.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Not only would I, but I’d also delight in doing it.” We sit there for a moment, staring at each other.

“You may think I’m a shitbag,” he says, and I nod in agreement, “but we have an open marriage. It’s not like I was cheating on her. But neither of us has any desire to have a child, so I’m very interested in making sure she doesn’t find out about this baby.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” I say. “Just to be completely clear, this is my baby, and you’ll be staying the hell away from my wife and my kid.”

“Happy to stay far away,” he says with a decisive nod.

“Good, then I have some paperwork for you to sign. In exchange, I’ll make sure my family’s share of stock in your company never exceeds fifty percent.”

“Why would you want any stock in our company?”

I don’t. I just want him to know I own part of his company, and can buy more if I want.

I lift my shoulders in a shrug and say, “Who knows? Maybe it’s a good investment.”

Hans reaches for the envelope I hand him and slides the paperwork and pen onto the table. It’s simple enough—though my lawyers assured me it would hold up in a court of law in both the US and Germany—that he is able to read it over in a few minutes.

He glances up, one eyebrow raised. “This says you’ll sell me the luxury box at cost?”

“Why would I want a box at a German football stadium?” I ask.

His laugh is a snort. “You just throw that kind of money around for fun?”

“Not normally. But there is nothing, and please remember that word . . . nothing that I wouldn’t do for my wife.”

Hans shakes his head and looks back down at the paperwork, picking up the pen. I swear I don’t breathe until he returns the pen for me to sign on the remaining line.

Once that’s done, I gather up the pages and the pen and stuff them into the envelope. As I turn to leave, I say, “Hopefully, we’ll never have to see each other again.”

His laugh is surprisingly loud. “Yes, hopefully not.”