Page 18 of Wild Hit (Wild Baseball Romance #3)

AUDREY

D ad answers exactly at four rings, and I manage to contain my anger enough to not spill another flaming word in front of Marty. “What the heck, Dad?”

“Good evening, Audrey. Did you like your surprise?”

I grind my teeth and turn my back at the audience, but I feel that Miguel and Marty’s presence stays near even as I pace on my lawn. “I’ll give you credit for not pretending that you had nothing to do with why I can’t get into my own house, but that’s it. I want an explanation right now.”

“I figured this would be the only way you would call me.” I can practically hear him shrugging nonchalantly.

Meanwhile, my jaw drops and I gasp hard enough to hurt my throat. With a raspy voice, I say, “I should call the cops. You’re essentially trespassing on my private property.”

“You could do that, yes,” Dad muses in the most unconcerned way. “Or we could just have the conversation that you’ve been running away from right now.”

I run a hand through my hair, pushing my bangs backward to give me minuscule relief from the humid evening heat.

My mind races with all possible plans to escape from this moment—everything from feigning some mysterious pain, screaming about a sudden alligator sighting, pretending that I’m being mugged, or that my signal is weak and pressing on the red button with gusto.

But if my father’s getting impatient enough to lock me out of my own damn house, it means he’s willing to do anything at this point. That all my stalling tactics are up. Time to fess up.

“What do you want?” I grouch under my breath, my shoulders huddling as if I could make myself smaller.

“I know that you have done diddly squat to fulfill your end of the bargain,” he casually says, “my lawyer confirmed that enough time has passed since we made our deal for you to have a new last name.”

I plead the Fifth in my mind.

He continues, “So I just wanted to remind you of the consequences if you don’t do your part.”

Hope’s and Rose’s faces flash through my mind, first laughing during one of our margarita fueled girl’s nights in our living room, then being all lovey dovey with their men. And then a new scenario, one that hasn’t occurred. Them, crying and screaming because I ruined their lives.

I swallow hard enough that probably all Orlando can hear it.

Certainly my dad does. “Yes, there are consequences to your own actions. It’s never too late to learn that lesson, right?”

“I’ll file the application tomorrow first thing.”

“That’s not going to be enough now. How could it? I clearly can’t trust you.”

Now my brain’s scrambling. “Let’s make the announcement tomorrow as well. We can have an all employee meeting, or maybe do a press conference. Or what if we?—”

“I want you to marry Henry Vos.”

Silence.

Rather, crickets and frogs croaking in the background, and the rustling of light steps on grass somewhere behind me.

Then a soft, little tug at my skirt. I glance over my shoulder at Marty and the concern etched in her face.

She has no idea what this full conversation is about, but clearly she can sense that I’m screaming myself raw on the inside.

I reach for her hand and face forward again, fixing my eyes on my car parked on the driveway.

“No,” I say, with surprising steel in my voice. “That’s not part of our deal. I just had to change my last name back to yours.”

“I’m afraid it is,” he counters back. “Allow me to jog your memory. In order for you to get your inheritance, as condition for revealing our kinship to the world, you were also to marry a man I approved of.”

My lungs stop working.

With the little amount of oxygen left in my brain, I rifle through our conversation in late March and there it is.

This was allegedly his way of sweetening the pot.

Bile rushes up my throat and I drop my phone, clamping my hand against my mouth so I don’t barf churned ice cream all over the grass.

My father’s tinny voice comes out of the device but I can’t make out what he’s saying.

I’m too busy swallowing hard and catching my breath.

“Audrey?”

So caught in my own tragedy I am, that I don’t even realize my roommates have come back home until they appear in my field of vision.

Rose is looking intently at me, as if that alone could pry the thoughts in my head for her to study them.

Beside her, Hope looks at something behind me—Miguel. His voice echoes in my ears.

“Something’s wrong,” he says.

That’s the understatement of the century. A sob escapes from my throat.

“Dad?” Marty mumbles, and a telepathic message must be shared between the Machados. Next thing I know, they’re bundling me into their house, my roommates in tow.

Marty guides me to the couch and the second I sit is when I break down. Big, ugly sobs, and enough waterworks to drown myself.

“Oh, sugar. What’s wrong?” Hope asks, rushing to sit on my right and wrapping her arm around my shoulders.

Rose follows suit on my left. “Talk to us, Audrey. You need to let it out for your own sake.”

“I—I—” A wail interrupts me.

I hate that I’m making a scene but I can’t help it. The dam has broken and no matter how hard I try to patch it up, the torrent of emotions is too violent. I fold over myself, straight up weeping into my cheerful skirt.

The girls rub my back. Marty’s little hand brushes my hair. But when I finally lift up my head seeking oxygen, the one that’s in front of me is Miguel, kneeling with a glass of water in his hand.

“Here.” He offers it to me and I take it, at first drinking carefully until reflex kicks in and I chug the whole glass.

I collapse back against the cushions, leaning my head back to stare at the ceiling. Big, hot tears roll down my temples. A warm, calloused hand eases mine open and retrieves the empty glass. I wish he wouldn’t have pulled his hand away. I feel so cold right now.

“I screwed up,” I rasp out, sniffling. “Badly.”

“What happened?” Hope prompts.

“I bargained with the worst person to do that with.” All the air expels from my lungs. “My dad.”

I don’t even know how to explain this without sounding completely out of this world. Then again, Dad doesn’t live in a normal society. He has the means to make his word law above the actual law if he wants.

Straightening out, and glancing from Hope to Rose, I explain, “Remember when Hope almost got fired for dating Cade, and Rose got put on probation for using the team’s social media to help them?”

“How could we forget?” Hope grimaces.

“Best risk I’ve ever taken.” Our other roommate folds her arms and lifts up her chin in defiance.

“Remember also how there were no real consequences?” I ask softly.

Hope bobs her head. “It was a really well executed plan.”

I hug myself and duck my face. “It worked because I made a deal with Charlie Cox, who… is my father.”

You could hear a pin drop after this.

Long enough passes in absolute quiet that I lift up my face. Hope is absolutely shocked, eyes and mouth wide in a way that would be funny in any other circumstance. Rose is glaring at Miguel for some reason.

“Why aren’t you surprised?” she asks him.

“Er…” The guy squirms a little, rubbing his hands over his powerful thighs. “It happened by accident.”

The journalist zeroes back in on me. “What did you promise?”

I fist my hands around the fabric of my skirt. “It—It’s complicated.”

Now Hope folds her arms as well, brow crashing. “We have all night if necessary.”

They won’t let me get away with just this much information, and I’m too tired to fight them. I take a deep breath.

“I proposed to reopen contact and show up at events with him and telling everyone I’m his heiress, but that wasn’t enough for Dad.

He wanted that, plus marrying someone he approves of”—I say this with air quotes—“as condition for me to inherit the team so I can do whatever I want with it and protect whoever I want in it. Somehow I didn’t think he was serious, but now he wants to hitch me up with Henry Vos, who by the way is a complete slimeball and tried to hit on me at my brother’s freaking funeral. ”

Something like a cross between a scream and a wail comes out of me, and my hands fly to my face to hide the horrible shame that’s burning up my skin right now.

I hate that this is my life. I hate everything about it.

I never asked for it to be a low budget telenovela with no happy ending in sight. And even more, I hate that no matter what I try, I can’t escape my tyrannical father.

“What the—” Rose catches herself. The couch tilts as she jumps to her feet. “Why did you never tell us any of this?”

“You had a brother?” Hope gasps next to me. “And your dad is the freaking team owner?”

“Does your father not know that this is the twenty first century?” Miguel shakes his head in utmost stupefaction.

“What does the word inherit mean?” Marty asks.

“To have wealth pass down from parent to child,” her dad explains.

“Audrey!” Rose throws her hands in the air. “This is the kind of ish you have to tell us about with enough time to plan!”

“Is wealth a good thing?” Marty wonders.

“You had a brother?” Hope repeats, tilting her head in confusion. “Wait, you had broken contact with your dad? Even though he’s the team owner?”

“It can be,” Miguel tells his child. “When it’s earned ethically and given willingly. Not like this.”

Marty nods. “That makes sense.”

Rose leans forward in front of me, hands on her knees. “How could you agree to something so ridiculous? Do you have no self preservation?”

Hope plucks one of my hands that had fallen back on my lap to hold it. “I’m so sorry for your loss, I had no idea.”

My chin trembles. My vision grows blurry again.

“Dad, I think she needs more water,” Marty whispers.

A little laugh comes out of my throat, and all eyes turn to me again. “Thank you, guys.”

“Why are you smiling now? I’m still angry at you.” Rose scowls.