Page 17 of Playboy Pitcher

Sheep not in the know gasp, along with a few senior VPs. The rest shake their heads but don’t seem surprised. And why should they be? I haven’t taken a dime from the man in a decade. Why would I want his precious baseball team?

“Very well.” Head Sheep nods, clasping his hands together. “My team will handle the transition confidentially.”

I laugh. “Let’s not play games; I don’t have the energy. I grew up in these boardrooms. Nothing is everconfidential.” I stress the word, putting every ounce of sarcasm I can muster into it. “I’m sure there were already a few bids by the time your alarms went off this morning,” I tell him, my patience wearing thin. “So, let’s hear them. I have a life in New York, and I need to get back to it.”

I expect shock, but the dead silence filling the room presses on my chest like a cinder block.

“It’s not quite that simple, Miss Mays.”

“McBaine, and why not? There are only thirty teams in Major League Baseball, for Christ’s sake. You can’t tell me there aren’t at least half a dozen billionaires right this minute who’d sell their own mothers to own a piece of it.”

Again, silence.

“Somebody say something,” I demand, my anxiety cranking up another notch. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“There was an addendum,” he says in a low, cool tone. A spark of warning sizzles down my spine at his sudden shift in demeanor.

“Addendum?”

Ned presses his thumb against his temple, his greasy red hair falling in his face. “Willow, why don’t we all have a seat?”

“I’d prefer if you stop dicking around and say what you have to say.”

Glancing up at me between his fanned fingers, he sighs in defeat. “Your old man loved you, Willow, but he also knew you better than you thought he did. While he hoped you’d let bygones be bygones, he also anticipated this exact moment. So, to ensure you didn’t do anything stupid—”

Head Sheep clears his throat. “Ned…”

His lips pull into a tight smile, that stupid-ass dimple sinking into his chin. “I meanrash, he had a separate addendum added to his will. A clause, if you will.”

“Why wasn’t I informed of this before now?”

“Because we weren’t prepared to act on it before now.”

My head pounds in warning. “What did he do?”

Head Sheep takes control of the conversation, his plastic smile and slicked-back Ken Doll hair reclaiming my attention. “In the event you rejected your father’s wishes and vocalized intent to sell the Miami Storm, he invoked a provisional clause to his will stating only one person outside of the Mays family could assume legal ownership of the franchise.”

Balling my fists by my side, I exhale a rough breath. “Who?” It’s a simple word. Three letters. Unassuming and direct, but the weight of the answer twists a knot in my stomach.

He nods toward a secretary taking notes at the end of the table. Dipping her chin in acknowledgment, she pushes her chair back and walks wordlessly toward the conference room door. The minute she opens it, my heart stops and my blood turns to ice.

“No,” I gasp. “Hell fucking no.”

Drake Prescott leans against the doorframe, an expensive three-piece suit covering his muscular body and a pair of dark sunglasses covering his devil eyes. “Willow. Glad to see some things haven’t changed, and yet”—removing his sunglasses, he takes in my appearance with a sarcastic click of his tongue—“unfortunately, some things have.”

“There must be some mistake,” I whisper, to who, I don’t know. Fate? God? A man still pulling my strings from beyond the grave?

The last time I saw Drake Prescott, I told him hell would freeze over before he’d see my face again. Yet, here he stands, smirking at me like the king of his newly acquired castle.

Which means not only has hell frozen over…I’m trapped in it.

Chapter Six

“Drake.”His name tastes like ash on my tongue. There’s no emotion behind it; not because a tornado isn’t spinning inside me, but because I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing it break free.

Seven and a half billion people in the world and my father chosehim?

I can’t begin to process the reason he’d do this to me, other than I’m being punished.That’s it.This is his retribution. Even in death, I come second.