Page 9 of Wild Hit (Wild Baseball Romance #3)

AUDREY

C all me a drama queen but when I walk into a door that is swinging closed because a coworker I thought would hold it open, doesn’t, and I spill my iced coffee all over my blouse, is the exact moment I realize that today is going to suck.

“Oops,” says Otto Berger, one of the therapists in Hope’s team, and apparently that’s all I’m going to get because he’s already walking away.

Sighing, I have no choice but to let it go. It’s not that I’m a pushover. Rather, people will find out any time soon that I’m the owner’s daughter, and any whiff of attitude from me is going to come back to bite me in my small behind.

However, I do keep a mental tally. The way this jerk acted toward Hope was bad enough to earn him two strikes all at once.

Letting a door close on me and spilling my coffee gives him half a strike—and it wouldn’t be a strike if it was from literally anyone else.

Half more and he’ll earn himself the silent treatment from me forever.

After tossing my now empty coffee cup in the trash, I make a sad beeline to the PR and communications area.

We always have a surplus of marketing material, and I find a team jersey in my size that can save the day.

Unfortunately, I don’t know if that fate awaits my formerly cute blouse in a delicate cream color.

“Ugh, freaking Otto Berger,” I mutter to myself in the women’s bathroom, having swapped tops and now attempting to wash my blouse with hand soap. Who would’ve thought that purple soap doesn’t get coffee stains out?

I return to my cubicle with a sopping blouse I’ll try to rescue at home, no caffeine in my system, an overload of annoyance, and zero desire to be here.

Still, since I’m a responsible adult who has bills to pay and integrity—and oddly enough wants to keep both—I boot up my laptop to begin my work day officially.

I had actually made an effort with my outfit because I have a teleconference with Amelia Herrera, Miguel Machado’s agent, to talk about the SPORTY campaign, but surely she won’t be weirded out at seeing me wear the team’s jersey.

An email at the top of my inbox stops me.

For a second I’m transported back to school when I was called to the principal’s office.

Dad’s assistant—who as far as I know isn’t aware that we’re father and daughter—is summoning me to Dad’s office ASAP.

It’s the four-letter-acronym the one that sends my pulse skyrocketing.

This can only mean one thing—no, not that he’s going to scold me or give me detention. Instead, he’s probably going to make the big announcement. The one I’ve been dreading, where he reveals to everyone my best kept secret.

Sighing, I drag my feet all the way up to his office.

The facilities have nothing to envy from a Silicon Valley company, with team spirit decor that doesn’t border on tacky, open areas for chatting or playing a table game, more monitors than an airport showing clips from games or from the history of the franchise, enough plants to not make the place feel sterile, and more coffee machines than necessary.

But the top floor of the admin building, where Dad’s office is, boasts of serious money.

Rumor has it that he modeled it after an opulent airport in the Middle East—marble, touches of gold, crystal, and priceless art.

I know that he did. If only because that’s also how he decorated our home when I was growing up.

Well, not home. The house we were forced to live in when all of us were subject to his rule.

His assistant has all the air of a butler. The guy is in his fifties, with white hair and a mustache, and all he’s missing is the monocle. He jumps to his feet while wishing me a good morning—glances very briefly at my jersey and dress pants mismatched combo—and opens the door to his boss’s office.

Somehow I expect paparazzi to jump out at me, blinding me with camera flashes and overwhelming me with questions.

Am I truly the long lost heiress? What made me be lost in the first place?

Is it true that I’ve hidden my identity from everyone?

Why does only a random player know and not my friends?

What do I think they’re going to say when they find out? Shouldn’t I have told them myself?

Instead, it’s just Dad and another man.

I do a double take. The feeling in my gut that today was going to suck intensifies. I know the guy. Adam, my brother, told me years and years ago to steer clear of him.

The butler assistant closes the door behind me, trapping me in a gilded cage with two hungry wolves.

“Audrey,” my dad starts, sweeping a hand toward the much younger guy next to him. “You remember Henry Vos.”

Unfortunately , is what I want to answer. Instead, I respond with, “Yes.” It comes out drier than burnt toast, and I do nothing to fix it. I almost laugh at the horror that briefly flashes across my dad’s face.

Henry Vos just chuckles. “Sassy as always, I see.”

There’s no mistaking the condescension in his voice.

He also comes from a long dynasty of the ultra rich, whose family is just a smidge poorer than my father—and we’re talking like maybe half a billion dollars less, which is a staggering amount of money, but just a percentage of each family’s assets.

I blink slowly, giving no further indication of how aggravated his sole presence makes me.

Adam and Henry were often pitted as rivals, since they were in the same class at school, and heirs to competing little kingdoms. But where my brother, flawed as he was, was genuinely a good person to the core, Henry Vos is the mustache twirling villain who’d rather toss poor people into the fire so long as his train can keep churning.

Except he’ll do it wearing Zegna and an exclusive cologne designed by the CEO of Hugo Boss, that Henry once bragged to Adam about.

None of that is the real reason why I can’t stand him, though. During Adam’s funeral, Henry’s personal condolences to me included something I’ll never forgive him for.

Maybe now that Adam’s out of the picture I’ll be able to make you my wife, huh?

And that was also the moment I learned why my brother couldn’t stand him. Turned out that all along I’d just been an object to Henry.

My fists tighten, bile rising up my throat at the memory just as he starts heading over to me. This is way worse than Dad telling everyone that I’m his long lost daughter. If Henry Vos is here it can only mean one thing.

These two must be making a deal. Over me.

“It’s been too long, Audrey,” Henry’s saying as he approaches. “The good news is that we’ll be able to reconnect now that I’m back from Kuala Lumpur.”

“Henry was starting a new branch of his father’s business in Malaysia,” Dad supplies helpfully, like that’s supposed to impress me. If he’d given up his riches and name to become a monk I’d actually be impressed.

“Good for you,” I mumble, casually stuffing my hands in my pockets right before he reaches out. I side step away from Henry’s near circle and face my dad. “So, what did you really call me for?”

Freaking Henry chuckles at the subtle dig, where any other guy with an ego of the size of his would fume. That’s why he grosses me out. If at least he was honest, I’d be able to openly tell him where to shove it.

“This is why.” Dad motions at the other guy again and my heart stops. “Now that Henry’s back, he wants to invest in the team.”

“Oh.” My voice falters.

“Disappointed that it wasn’t you I came back for?

” Henry asks me, showing all the pearly whites his parents bought for him.

He’s all blue eyed and blond—the dirty kind, unlike Dad and I—and for all intents and purposes, an attractive guy.

If it wasn’t for my brother, I might’ve become one of Henry’s notches on his post.

Now that Adam isn’t here, I only have my own means to protect myself with. Dad would gladly throw me at this wolf for his own gain.

I pretend like he didn’t speak. “Invest how?” I inquire to Dad.

Henry’s the one who answers. “I want to sponsor the team in exchange for ad placement for our new venture, an electrolyte tablet that can be dropped in water to hydrate you after a workout, and also into a glass of vodka for a perfect cocktail.”

“Isn’t that brilliant?” Dad asks, laughing in rich guy. It’s the laugh of someone who can afford bad ideas.

I blink. “Is this finalized or am I here to bring up the potential partnership to the team?”

“It’s a done deal.” Henry shrugs. “Charlie and I just signed the papers. We just need you to onboard me, maybe give me a tour of the facilities.” And here he winks.

Dad snaps his fingers. “That’s a great idea. Audrey, why don’t you take Henry around? The team is traveling today, so it should be no bother to anyone.”

Yeah, it’s a bother to me, though. I’d rather eat my coffee stained blouse.

Alas, I know how men like these react upon any female attitude. They’re worse than an Otto Berger who would whine to anyone who’d listen. These two would use all their might to lean harder until they break what they want.

I make a big show of checking the time on my phone. “Fine, but I only have twenty minutes until my next meeting.” That’s actually true. Now I’m even more invested in getting back to my cubicle to call Miguel’s agent.

“That should work,” Henry says while offering me his arm. “After all, it’s not the last you’ll see of me.”

There’s no way he misses the goosebumps that break all over my skin, but I don’t know if he understands which kind it is. I don’t take his offering and speed walk through the facilities, wishing it would make time go by faster.