Page 18 of Mad Rivals (The Bradley Legacy #1)

It Never Came Up

What the fuck was that?

What the fuck is wrong with her?

Questions swirl around my head as I take the car home solo. I think about texting her, but she was angry. Angry I kissed her? The way she melted into me, the soft moans…no. It wasn’t the kiss that made her fly off the handle.

It had to have been that she realized it was me she was kissing. Or she was drunker than I thought she was and she realized what the fuck she was doing.

I have no clue. I’m confused as fuck.

I wanted to keep kissing her, and I only pulled back because my phone buzzed to let me know our ride was here and waiting for us.

I was going to invite her back to my place. I guess I’m glad I didn’t have to face that particular rejection.

I blow out a breath as the car pulls up to my building. I thank the driver, hand him a twenty instead of tipping in the app, and head upstairs as I try to shake off whatever the hell that was.

What now?

I turn back toward the car. “Are you able to take me somewhere else?” I ask the driver. He looks a bit unsure, and I pull out my wallet and pass him a hundred-dollar bill. “I’ll make it worth your time.”

He shrugs and nods as if to say, “Get in.”

I give him the address, and ten minutes later, we’re pulling up in front of my parents’ house. “Wait here for me. I won’t be more than a half hour, and I’ve got another hundred for you.”

“You got it,” he says, and I walk up to the front door.

It’s late. I realize that. But I just had a very interesting conversation with someone, and I need to know more.

I ring the bell and bang on the front door at the same time, and the door opens a minute later.

“Madden,” my father murmurs, a hint of surprise in his tone. He’s wearing a bathrobe over his expensive silk pajamas, and he looks like someone I don’t even know. “What are you doing here so late?”

“What secrets are you keeping where Van Buren is concerned?”

He presses his lips into a thin line. “It’s complicated, Madden. I played college football with Van Buren. That’s really the end of it.”

“What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter. As you know, I had to stop playing because of an off-the-field injury. But I did everything I could to ensure my sons had the opportunities I missed out on because of it.” The way he says the words gives me chills.

I did everything I could . What exactly does that mean?

“So what happened with Van Buren?” I ask.

I raise my brows pointedly.

“We were friends. Years later we met in a business setting, and I won a bid over him. He was a sore loser, that’s all.” He’s flippant, maybe overly so, and I get the sense that he’s leaving something out of the story.

“What did you do?” I hiss.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t do anything. ”

I don’t believe a word out of his lying mouth. He’s too poised, too sure of himself.

“While you’re here, I have some news,” he says.

I narrow my eyes at him, wondering what the fuck he’s going to hit me with next.

“I found an office space in San Diego. We’re expanding past Chicago, Vegas, and New York. You can work there on your days off when you’re in San Diego, and you can run that office.”

My brows dip. “What the fuck makes you think I want that? I’m not going to work there on my days off. I’m in San Diego to play football, not to run your company.”

“Your company, Madden. The Bradley legacy.”

I force myself not to roll my eyes at his terminology.

It doesn’t matter if I’m in San Diego to play football. If Thomas Bradley wills it to be so, so it will be.

“Will you be in town next Saturday?” he asks.

I think through my calendar, and as far as I know, I’ll be here.

I think about asking why, but before I do, he says, “We’ve agreed to attend the Chicago Urban Renewal Fundraiser Gala next weekend, and you should be there.

There will be great opportunities to network. We’ll also bring Ford,” he says.

At least I’ll have someone to talk to at this event he’s forcing me to attend.

“Fine,” I mutter.

“Have your tux pressed before then, yes?”

How did I come here to confront my father and somehow end up in charge of an entirely new office while also agreeing to attend a charity ball next weekend?

I have no idea, but that’s what he does. He changes the subject. He twists things until we have no choice but to agree.

And so I guess I’m going to a gala next weekend.