Page 11 of Wild Hit (Wild Baseball Romance #3)
AUDREY
T here comes a time in every woman’s life where she has to spend all her patience putting up with one man’s shit.
That might as well be my biography, except this time around the culprit isn’t my dad directly—indirectly, yes. He’s the one inflicting me with this pain deep down. However, I’m specifically referring to Henry Vos here.
Now that the sponsorship contract has been signed, Henry has been coming to the Orlando Wild facilities like he has an employee ID, and Dad has allowed it.
I’m currently trapped in a meeting room with him and my boss, and Karen is positively salivating about being in the presence of a guy whose face and other body parts have consistently been in tabloids since before it was legal for him to be photographed that way.
Look at that. I found the one thing that my father did right by Adam and I.
He always managed to keep the paparazzi away from us, probably by wiring hefty sums to the tabloids directly.
Otherwise, Karen would already know that I’m the team owner’s daughter, heiress to a ridiculous fortune, just like the guy yapping across the table from us.
“—Do you think?” he asks with the gloating expression of someone who believes he just spat out a literal nugget of gold from his mouth.
“That’s a phenomenal idea.” Karen lets out a twinkling laugh I had never heard coming from her.
I purse my lips because there’s no way I can tell them both where to stuff it when, in theory, they haven’t earned such treatment right now . But they’re both perfect for each other: apparently polite but vicious individuals on the inside.
“We could assign a cubicle in our office for you,” she offers, leaning over the table because she can’t stop her own impulse of reaching closer to him.
That’s when my brain decides to pay attention, not to what she just agreed to, but what it implies about everything I zoned out about.
So, Henry coming and going wasn’t a coincidence. He wants to have full access to the facilities. Karen’s agreement is a joke she’s the only one who isn’t in on; Dad will support this in a heartbeat. They’re really trying to socialize me to Henry, huh?
Or worse, is he trying to negotiate a buyout of the Orlando Wild from my dad? Because if that’s the case…
If so… I’m going to have to scorch earth. There’s no way I can let Dad do that.
My knee bounces and I check my watch. In twenty minutes I have a realistic excuse to high tail it out of here and not see any of these two people for a while. It’s the one time slot I found in Miguel Machado’s packed itinerary to discuss the logistics of the SPORTY shoot.
Unfortunately, my silence attracts their attention and it’s Henry who hones in. “What do you think, Audrey? Would you also like to see more of me around here?”
Karen glances between us like we’re in a tennis match and ma’am, this is a baseball facility, there’ll be none of that.
I grit my teeth. I wish he’d have phrased that in literally any other way. No one is supposed to guess that we know each other, and there’s no doubt my boss is starting to suspect something.
I channel my best impression of an ice cube when I say, “Why does my opinion matter in particular? I’m just one of many employees.”
“Right.” Karen offers more of that girly laugh and discreetly smacks my arm under the table. “I’m sure everyone in the building will be happy to have you around for this collab, it’s going to be fantastic.”
It’s going to be a pain in the ass, is what.
Henry passed around free samples of his product yesterday, and the entire crew that composes the marketing, communications, and PR staff tried them while we watched the Orlando Wild on screens, playing the last game of the away series in Seattle.
The biggest bummer of all is that his electrolyte tablets are actually tasty on their own, and even better in vodka.
It will be a good collab for the team both financially and for the image, and Dad made it look like I’m the one who got the account, so I’ll be getting a hefty bonus out of this.
On top of that, the apple flavor was particularly good.
All of this makes me feel like I’m betraying my own values, ugh.
Henry chuckles. Either he can read my thoughts through the deadpanned expression on my face, or he’s just amused by my obvious disdain of him. Like it’s a little challenge.
I honestly don’t know what tactic will work best on him, if acceptance or indifference. Somehow I have the feeling that neither of them will work for me .
“This has been very productive, but I’m afraid I have to leave early to prepare for my next appointment,” I say with a heavy dose of sarcasm that makes Karen give me a sharp glance. From her point of view, yes, I’m being a completely unprofessional employee. I’m only slightly sorry.
“Great,” she chirps, clapping her hands. “How about we start setting you up with a work space?”
“That would be amazing.” He pulls himself up while buttoning his Tom Ford blazer at the same time.
I push away from the table, collect my iPad and Apple Pencil, and act ruder than I ever have by leaving without another word.
This will get me an earful from Karen later, and honestly I’ll accept it.
I just don’t want to spend any more of my energy on this guy today, especially now that I know I’ll have to preserve it for however many days it takes him to play his little game here.
But what is exactly is Henry playing at?
I need to get the tea out of my dad. But how? I’ve spent years trying to cut off contact with him. I can’t just walk up to him with big eyes and a pouty mouth and ask for information.
Also, I’m not prepared for what I might hear.
I bite my thumbnail as I walk back to my cubicle, not hard enough to damage it, but just to have something to do with my mouth that isn’t screaming. Parking at my chair, I fix my eyes on the hanging plants inside my cubicle and try to look at things from a different perspective.
Maybe I should just start applying for jobs elsewhere. My friend Camila has extended an offer to work with her at SPORTY that, in her words, never expires. Then everyone around me will be new, and they won’t even notice my name going from Audrey Winters back to Audrey Cox.
But I also quite like the life I’ve made for myself here, and the friends I’ve made.
What would Rose and Hope think of all this? I’m sure they’d say I’m being a fool—because, yes—but they’d also ask me how they could help. And them taking on a fight against my powerful father is the very last thing I want.
Like a plant, though, I need some hydration.
I grab my tumbler and find it empty, which gives me a great excuse to pace.
With my iPad, I make an excursion out of the communications department toward the nearby kitchenette.
Miguel agreed to meet me around here, so I’ll be ready in case he shows up while I’m in the middle of panicking.
A small group of people walk out of the kitchenette together, masking the sound of someone behind me. Only when I’m filling in my tumbler with ice does he show himself. By leaning against the counter like he owns the place.
“You don’t have to be so caustic,” Henry says, folding his arms. “That’s actually what’s going to make people think there’s something going on between us.”
I force myself to keep my attention ahead. “Is there? Something going on between us that I don’t know about?”
Screw asking Dad. I’ll try to get info out of this jerk.
“Would you like there to be?”
Damn it. Of course he won’t cooperate.
I have enough ice now, so I stop dispensing and sadly turn to him. He’s in the way of the water dispenser. “Of course not. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
He doesn’t take the hint. Rather, he moves closer.
I’m so confused that I don’t react at first. Guys don’t just get in my personal bubble very often.
But when it becomes clear that he’s going to continue, possibly until there’s physical contact, I take a step back.
Then another. And a larger one. And it’s the one that makes me bump into a wall behind me, which Henry takes advantage of by corralling me against it, placing his hands against the wall until I can go nowhere.
“What are you doing?” I ask in a very low voice.
“Flirting.” He lifts the corner of his mouth. “That’s what I’m here for. And also for the brand sponsorship, I guess.”
My mind races. Out of the two possibilities I had in mind, one being that Henry was after the team, and the other that he was after me, somehow I wouldn’t have bet my money on the latter.
“Why? I’m the only person in this building who knows the real you.
” I frown like my stomach isn’t churning with sour bile.
I clutch at my tumbler harder, a pastel green Stanley I’ve covered with Orlando Wild stickers that I’m not afraid of using as a weapon.
“Can’t you just go flirt with Karen instead? ”
“That’s why. I don’t have to fake being nicer than I actually am around you.” He leans lower and I glue myself to the wall. “I’d rather have a thrilling marriage with you than a bland one like our parents.”
“Marriage?” I exclaim, my jaw dropping in uncertainty.
“You didn’t know?” I hate the amusement that expands in his face. Now his whole mouth smiles and while his eyes also show a glint of amusement, it’s a rather predatory one. “Charlie told my dad and I about your little deal with him over golf, and I might have made one of my own.”
“No. Shut up. Move away.” I shake my head and push against him.
He doesn’t budge. “Think about it. You change your last name to mine, get your inheritance and mine, and you won’t have to deal with your dad anymore if you don’t want to. We’ll be too powerful together.”
“Move, I said,” I all but growl, pushing at him hard enough to bruise.
“Audrey?”
The new voice is what makes Henry stumble back, and I manage to free myself from the physical trap.
Miguel Machado stands at the entrance of the kitchenette in his training uniform, stained with reddish infield dirt down the entire left side of his body, and his cap turned backward.
His eyes are a light brown under the white office light, yet they darken as he glances at Henry and me, back and forth.
Relief washes over me. He’s early, I’m sure of it. But if he’d been on time, who knows what Henry could have done. Or me. I could’ve smashed my tumbler against his head for all I know.
I nearly trip on my own feet as I rush over to the baseball player. “Miguel! It’s so great to see you. Are you ready for our meeting?” I ask with a hell of a lot more pep than I intended.
Without tearing his eyes from the other guy, Miguel says, “Yes, of course. Sorry I’m late.”
But he’s not. And in my nervous state I almost blurt it out and blow it, when he’s just trying to help me.
Swallowing hard, I grab at his arm—which I would never, under normal circumstances, do to a player. “Not a problem. Let’s go.” And without further ado, Miguel lets me lead him away at a punishing pace.