Page 31 of Mad Rivals (The Bradley Legacy #1)

The Math Isn’t Mathing

The office visit goes surprisingly well. The entire time, I can’t help but feel like this is where I’m supposed to be.

I’m a Chicago girl at heart. It’s why Clem and I moved on our own to the city. We wanted to experience independence, to be city girls living our best lives.

It didn’t exactly pan out that way, but even so, Chicago has my heart.

But I think California might have my soul.

The proximity to the beach and the mild weather are lovely traits. But I think it’s the fact that Madden Bradley is going to be living here for the next year that really has me looking at things through a different lens.

We’re just getting things started, and the thought of being away from him, of trying things long distance…it’s overwhelming. It’ll be far too hard on a burgeoning relationship like ours.

We meet back at the hotel for dinner, and we decide to take the risk and eat at one of the restaurants in our hotel. We have a private corner booth, so neither of us is worried about being caught.

After we place our orders and our drinks arrive, he asks, “How was the commute?”

“Not bad. I listened to an audiobook, and it made the time pass faster. How was your day?”

He lifts a shoulder. “It was fine. I met with John, the man my father chose to run this office, and I just got the feeling like he doesn’t really respect me.”

“Why would he? He doesn’t know you.”

“You’re right,” he concedes. “And I know respect has to be earned. But he was a little on the condescending side, and I was trying to piece together if it’s because he thinks I’m nothing more than a jock or if it’s because my father is handing the company over to me.”

“Do you think those might be your insecurities speaking out?” I ask, though truthfully, I often think of the second thing he just said only about myself.

“Absolutely. But I still felt it coming from him.”

“I get that. I feel that way too. Not the jock thing, but the being handed the company thing. I didn’t earn it, and I guess being born into a role isn’t what little kids dream of when they’re imagining the future, you know?”

He nods. “But you took the job to escape a bad situation. We’ve talked about how that was a smart move on your part.”

“Right.” I take a sip of my wine. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I was able to leave another job and step right into the place my dad was reserving for me when that time eventually came.

And maybe the people I met with today didn’t outwardly make me feel that way, but it doesn’t mean they aren’t thinking it anyway. ”

“Do you like what you’re doing there at VBC?” he asks.

I nod. “I do. I’m growing to like it more and more, actually.

It’s not graphic design, but I do think there are a lot of opportunities for me to put those skills to use, and the more I’m there, the more I’m starting to sort of want to be there.

It’s nice knowing I have a stable career in front of me, and I’m nothing if not a hard worker bent on achieving the best for my company. What about you?”

He presses his lips together and stares into his beer. He glances up at me when he finally answers. “It’s not football.” He looks torn by that.

“No, it’s not. But you can’t play football forever.”

“No, you’re right. I can’t. But between my trust fund and my paychecks from the league, I can’t say I really need a job to fall back on. Especially not one as intense and exhausting as being the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company when its billionaire CEO retires.” He twists his lips.

Wait a minute.

Billionaire CEO?

I haven’t looked at the financials for VBC, but a billion dollars is a hell of a lot of money. Our companies are probably worth that, but our fathers?

That seems somehow wrong. Maybe it’s just a turn of phrase, but the math isn’t mathing for me. I don’t think my dad is worth billions . Millions, yes. Eight figures, likely. Possibly into the low nine figures.

But ten figures?

It’s a reach that seems unlikely.

I push it away. I’m sure it’s nothing. Maybe just a turn of phrase on his part.

“So are you saying you don’t want to take over Bradley Group?” I ask quietly.

He chugs down a few sips of beer. “No. I’m not saying that. I like the industry. I like what we do. I like a blank canvas, and I like to build. But sometimes I wish things were different and that I could do it because I wanted to do it rather than because I’m expected to do it. ”

“So do I,” I admit, and it’s fascinating to me that I have so much in common with this hot guy who bumped into me at a Starbucks one morning not so long ago.

We take another walk on the beach, we make love, and we sleep. I feel this pull to him as we bond over these unexpected similarities between our families and our futures.

And as I feel that pull toward him, I start to see the future more clearly. It’s mapping itself out before our very eyes.

We look at houses on Saturday, and we find one that’s perfect for him.

He signs the lease that will start next month.

We have no idea if he’ll be here a year or more, but it’s close to his practice facility, and it’s on the north side of town, so it’s only about a fifty-minute drive to the Aliso Viejo office for me.

And then we celebrate. Naked .

I’m sad when Sunday rolls around and I have to head to the airport.

He’s staying through the day tomorrow to get in more workouts with his local friends, and I’m glad he’s finding people to bond with on his new team.

He drives me to the airport to drop me off, and he kisses me goodbye from the driver’s seat.

I don’t know when I’ll see him again. I don’t know if his brother is still staying at his place, and I can’t exactly invite him to my place since I’m living with my parents.

But after this weekend, I have this lovely, strong feeling that we’ll find some way to make this work. It feels like San Diego is our safe haven, and I can’t wait to get back there with him to make more magic. Sooner rather than later, preferably.

That feeling is shot to hell the minute I get home.

My dad sent a ride from the company for me, and as I walk through the front door with my suitcase, my father is standing in the foyer as if he was waiting for me.

“Why were you photographed with Madden Bradley leaving a hotel in Carlsbad?” he demands.

My heart palpitates. “Excuse me?” I ask, setting my hand on my chest.

“You were supposed to be in Los Angeles. You checked into a hotel there. So why were you at Madden Bradley’s hotel in Carlsbad, a full forty miles from the Aliso Viejo office?”

“Dad, calm down,” I say as I feel anything but calm. I scramble to come up with some excuse. “We were working out some details for SCS while we were both in town, and we met for dinner halfway between San Diego and Aliso Viejo.”

“I will not calm down. Are they opening an office there? They can’t win that town, too. I won’t allow it,” he hisses.

“They’re opening a branch in San Diego, yes. With Madden moving there because he’s playing there, his father wanted him to have a local office so he can continue working on his projects while he’s in season,” I say.

“Why do you know so much about this, Kennedy?” he thunders at me.

Jesus, Dad. I haven’t even set my suitcase down yet. I take the opportunity to do that.

“Because we’re working together on SCS, and sometimes conversation drifts, okay?” I say. It’s clear that he would never, ever be okay with me being in a relationship with Madden.

To be perfectly honest, I’ve never been all that close with my father. And the way I already feel about Madden in such a short period of time…well, the choice is pretty clear. If it comes down to some ultimatum, I’ll do what I have to do to put my own happiness first.

And maybe spending less time with my father would lead me to a little more happiness. The kind of happiness I experienced in San Diego.

But I’m just starting to warm up to the idea of running VBC. If I choose Madden, or, rather, if I don’t choose my father…then what the hell will my future even look like?