Page 11 of Mad Rivals (The Bradley Legacy #1)

Shouldn’t Have Sent a Boy

The elevator is taking forever, so I end up hoofing it down the stairs.

I can’t seem to figure out why I’m so enamored by this woman as I walk the couple blocks back toward my office.

Is it because she wants to play the game?

Is it because she’s a challenge?

I’m inclined to think it’s neither of those because I was enamored with her the moment I first saw her at Starbucks. She was neither a game nor a challenge back then.

Bumping into her was a way to open the door. It was crowded enough that it worked. Only…it didn’t. She was flustered, and I wasn’t myself, and it all spiraled before I got the chance to score her number.

And now she has mine, but whether or not she’ll use it remains to be seen.

She’ll have to…right? I suppose she could have her assistant call my office to arrange a meeting, but I’d rather hear from her.

When I get back to the office, I head toward my father’s office. Darla, his assistant, greets me with a smile. “He’s free if you’d like to head on in,” she tells me, and I nod politely at her .

“How did it go with SCS?” he barks at me before I’ve even crossed the threshold into his office. “You were there a while, so I assume it’s ours.”

I draw in a deep breath through my nose, and I exhale with my words. “We were awarded the commercial half.”

His lip curls with disapproval. It’s not the first time he’s looked upon me with that same sort of derision, but typically it’s not because I lost half of a big deal for the company. “And the residential?”

“Went to Van Buren.”

“Goddammit, Madden. You had one job,” he hisses. “And to lose it to Van Buren?” He shakes his head as his lips tighten. “All the companies that put in bids, and it had to be his.”

Oh, that reminds me… “What exactly is the history between the two of you?”

“That’s not your business,” he spits. “How did we lose this? I signed off on the proposal. There’s just no way they could’ve found a better way.”

“Well, they did.”

“I’ll talk to SCS. I knew I shouldn’t have sent a boy to do a man’s job.” He grabs his phone, still sputtering with disgust.

I ignore the pang in my chest from his words. Now’s not the time to dissect how they hurt.

Not when I have to stop him.

I can’t let him do this.

He may be a cutthroat businessman, but I’m not.

I’m a football player first and foremost.

And I’m attracted to the woman I want to work with on this thing. If he calls and gets his way, he’s going to blow my shot.

It’s a stupid reason to stop him from making the call. But, admittedly, it’s not the whole reason.

The truth is…I don’t want to handle this project alone. I’m still learning, and I have an entire team behind me to help make this a success. But only having to deal with the commercial side—the side I actually like— is a bit of a relief .

Not that I’d ever admit that to Thomas Bradley.

But it’s the truth. I didn’t want to have to deal with residential.

That’s not my specialty. I didn’t build apartment complexes or houses out of Lego bricks.

I built fire stations and truck stops. I built from the Lego City brand, and before it was rebranded to that, from the Lego Town sets.

“Before you make that call, can I ask you a question?” I ask, scrambling to figure out what the hell I’m going to say but also knowing I need some answers.

He narrows his eyes at me, but he sets his phone down without dialing it. “What?”

“Is Van Buren your enemy?”

He looks uncomfortable at my question, and I’m even more curious to hear the answer. “You could say that.”

I shouldn’t do this. I should stop myself. I should choose the road of less manipulation.

But I don’t.

“Then don’t you want to keep your enemy close?” I ask.

He tilts his head before he leans on his elbows and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth.

I continue before he can come up with a reason why this is a bad idea. Trust me, I already know all of them.

“What about getting someone on the inside to see how their process works? Think of all we could do with that. Get me in there, and I can work my magic. I’ll get access to their client list, their best project managers—hell, their best janitors.

Whatever you want from the top down. And it’s not just that.

We’ll have to master plan together, and all the infrastructure and zoning will be us.

They’ll have their tiny residential corner, and we’ll get credit on the rest.”

He eyes me a little warily, and for a beat I’m worried I’ve overstepped.

And then he says the words every kid craves hearing from his father. “I’m so proud of you.”

They’re the words I wanted. I just don’t want them under these circumstances. Not in the context of lies and manipulation.

I have no real intention of taking VBC down. I’m just trying to use the language I know he speaks.

“Okay,” he says with a short nod. “Let’s do this. Let’s see how it goes, and let’s see what you bring me from VBC.”

Shit.

I went too far.

And now he’s going to be sitting by, waiting for answers.

“Okay. But I need to know what went down between you,” I say.

“We’ve known each other since we were in college. He was a couple years under me, and we were the same major. When he got out into the field, he learned real quick that this business is harsh. That’s all you need to know.”

This business is harsh. Yeah, no shit. Well…that told me exactly nothing.

I’m left to come to my own conclusions, and my immediate thought is that my father did something to teach him that lesson.

I nod, and I stand to turn to walk away.

“Remember the family legacy, Madden.” His voice is a cold reminder.

I nod once.

I’m so goddamn sick of hearing about the family legacy, but he’s looking at me to be the one to shoulder the burden simply because I had the inconvenience of being born before the rest of my siblings.

It’s a lot of pressure squarely on my shoulders. I’m still not even sure I want all this, but here I am anyway. The obedient boy seeking his father’s approval.

I’d like to get to the bottom of what happened between him and Van Buren, but it feels like all will be revealed in due time. Right now, I have a commercial development project to manage .

And a raging boner that hasn’t gotten any relief since long before I sat at a coffee table across from the daughter of my father’s enemy.

* * *

A few days later, I’m walking up to ring the doorbell at my parents’ rather stately mansion in Lincoln Park. My sister Ivy, the baby of the Bradley clan, answers the door, and she rushes into my arms for a hug.

“How’s my biggest bro?” she asks as she pulls back and ushers me inside.

“Real excited to be here,” I say dryly.

“Then you and me should just sneak out and grab dinner together. The oldest and the youngest—it could be a thing, you know.”

I chuckle as I realize how very much I’ve developed my own life and haven’t always been a very good big brother. “Let’s plan on dinner soon.”

“I want to come see you when you’re in San Diego, so maybe next time you’re out there I can fly out to meet you.”

I think for a second how dangerous it would be to introduce my twenty-year-old sister to the likes of Clay Mack, but she didn’t ask for the intros, so I won’t be making them. “You got it,” I say instead.

Liam, the youngest Bradley boy and currently a backup quarterback for Pittsburgh, is already at the table, and so is Ford, the sibling right in the middle of the pack and current tight end for Tampa Bay.

“Hey, the old man is here!” Liam says from his spot at the table, and Ford laughs.

I clench my jaw as I wait for more barbs about my age, but Ford doesn’t offer any. They both stand and give me a hug.

“Your jersey on clearance yet?” Ford asks, and I roll my eyes at him .

I don’t bother with an answer to that. I was traded, so the answer is probably yes. “Anyone else coming tonight?”

“Everleigh said she’ll be here,” Ford says. The two of them have always been close.

“I think Dex is in Vegas, and Archer’s playing tonight,” Liam adds as I sit in the chair that was assigned to me at a young age.

That covers it. Really, five of seven is pretty good considering we’re all grown adults with lives of our own.

Everleigh walks in a moment later, and we all stand to hug her as well. She sits, and our parents walk into the room at that moment and take their seats rather formally at opposite ends of the table, reserving greetings for when we’re all seated.

I always wondered what it would be like to have been born to parents that showed affection once in a while, but the Bradley family ain’t it.

To be hugged by our mother when we show up at her house for dinner would be nice.

To get a handshake from our father rather than the usual sneers or reproaches might solve some of our underlying issues.

But it’s never been that way, so why would it start now?

At least I’m semi-close with my siblings.

Once we’re all seated, Greta, one of the housekeepers, tips a bottle of wine over our glasses. My mother holds hers in the air once we’ve all been served, and she says, “To the legacy.”

We all repeat her words, but honestly, what legacy is this? Family first has been drilled into us since infancy, but what kind of family is it when they don’t even seem to care that we’re here? It’s all for show, and it always has been.

Yet I continue to show up. I continue to act as they’ve trained me. I continue to strive for their words of affirmation. Despite all that, I do enjoy the chance to catch up with my brothers and sisters.

After we’re served our main dish of filet mignon with black truffle butter, Ivy asks what everyone has been up to.

Everleigh has been working long hours in her position as a personal brand strategist for celebrities.

Ford has been enjoying the beaches near Tampa in his time off, and he’s here in Chicago catching up with friends before he heads back to Tampa.

Liam has been living here with Mom and Dad in the offseason and spending long hours working out to keep up his stamina for next season.

Ivy is still in college, and she’s splitting time between her apartment on campus and here with our parents.

Unlike Liam and Ivy, I was never that way. Once I moved out of this house, I stayed the fuck out except for Monday night dinners when I could make it.

“I can tell you what Madden has been up to,” our father says, and I sit up a little straighter, though I likely should brace myself for what I already know is coming. “Giving away half our business to the competition.”

“Oh, Madden,” my mother clucks with disappointment.

I sink back down against my chair. One single comment from our father is enough to keep me quiet the rest of the meal.

After the meal, Ford, Everleigh, and I escape to the front porch. The two of them sit in two of the Adirondack chairs, but I perch on the railing instead.

“Can I ask you what Dad meant by his comment?” Ford asks.

“I want to know, too. You shut down after that, Mad,” Everleigh says.

I shake my head with a bit of disgust. “I was basically the spokesperson for a Bradley proposal on a town square development, and we were awarded commercial while another company won residential. He approved the plans, yet he blames me since I was the one who went to the meeting.”

“He’s always been hardest on you,” Everleigh says. “How are you feeling about this season and what comes next?”

I lift a shoulder. “I need to get to San Diego to get a feel for it, you know? I might have better insight. They may not even sign me to a second year. Who knows? They could force me into retirement, and then I get to work for Dad.” I roll my eyes.

“If you don’t want it, just walk away,” Ford says—as if it’s as simple as that .

“Then who gets it? Dex?” I ask.

They both laugh as if it’s the most ridiculous thing they’ve heard.

“I don’t want it,” Everleigh says. She’s next in line.

“I still have a few years left in me on the field,” Ford says. “Arch won’t touch it, and Liam and Ivy are a long way off from being able to manage a Fortune 500 company.”

“We all are,” I say. “That’s why Dad put in a team to support whichever one of us is the next CEO of Bradley.

And I guess out of the seven of us, I’m the most logical choice.

I’m the oldest. I’ll probably retire first. I actually like real estate development.

” I press my lips together. “But damn if that dude doesn’t make me feel totally incompetent. ”

“You’re not,” Everleigh says. “And he does that to all of us. You just are the lucky one who gets to bear the brunt of it since Bradley Group is going to you.”

“Thanks,” I say, feeling a bit of solidarity with my sister over all of it.

We chat a while longer out on the porch, and I think about inviting the two of them to dinner sometime, too.

But just like so many of the best-laid plans, the idea moves to the back burner in favor of workouts, work, and staying busy.

Still, I’m hoping I can make my siblings more of a priority going forward.