Foolish Games (24 page)

Rubbing his hands through his hair, Brody placed both feet on the floor and leaned toward Will. If Will wanted to, he could have the pest by the throat in an instant. Only his hands weren’t working so well right now.

“Look, Will,” Brody said. “I came tonight because the guys want you to know we all stand behind you. No matter what you did or what you do tomorrow. We’ve got your back.”

Will snorted. “They didn’t need to send you over here to annoy me. They could have just told me at the training facility rather than talking behind my back.”

With an exasperated sigh, Brody shot to his feet. “Easier said than done when you’re acting like a surly shit all the time. No one wants to talk to you in person. I actually drew the short straw, asshole, and was rewarded with the honor of wasting my evening watching you slobber in your bourbon. But I’m out of here.”

He stepped around Owen’s swing, brushing over a stack of papers on top of the coffee table. Will’s reflexes were too slow and the separation agreement floated to the floor right in front of Brody’s obnoxious sneakers. He plucked it off the rug before Will could get to it.

“That was fast,” Brody said as he scanned the document.

“Mind your damn business.” Will reached for the paper, but Brody took a step back.

“I just thought the way things were going in that hometown of yours, you wouldn’t let her go without a fight.”

“I told you, Brody, it wasn’t that kind of marriage.”

“Could have fooled me.” Brody flicked the paper back toward Will. “Well, I guess now she’s fair game for the rest of us.”

Will wasn’t sure how he got across the room so quickly, but he had Brody pinned against the wall, his forearm to the little twerp’s throat, poised to crush his windpipe. Unfortunately, Brody wasn’t fighting back. Instead his eyes were bright with mischief.

“So I wasn’t wrong,” Brody taunted him. “You do love her.”

“Give me a reason to kill you,” Will hissed. “You’ve been a pain in my ass for too long, Brody Janik.”

Brody ignored him, enduring whatever pain Will inflicted and still managing to piss him off. “I picked up some pretty strong vibes that she was hot for you, too. So what did you do to screw it up?”

Will increased the pressure to Brody’s throat, but the idiot didn’t even flinch. “I didn’t do anything,” Will grunted. “She sold me out to her brother,
the senator
.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Will felt as if his head were going to explode, his skull was throbbing so hard. “Yes, I’m sure, you asshole. She admitted it.”

“Huh.”

That was it. He was going to strangle the little prick. Except the harder he pressed, the more relaxed Brody became.

“Did you ask her why?”

Did he ask her why?
Will stepped back in aggravation, nearly tripping over a giant metal maze he’d bought for Owen to play with. Brody didn’t even reach for his neck, simply crossing his arms in front of his chest, tucking his long hands between his armpits. Will leaned his hips against the recliner to keep himself upright.

“I didn’t have to ask her,” he shouted. “She sold me out for money so she could start a new design company.”

“Nah.” Brody shook his head in disbelief. “She didn’t need money that badly. The gown she designed for my sister was worth an easy fifty grand. I tried to pay her several times and she wouldn’t take my money. It’s gotta be something else.”

The burning sensation had returned to Will’s throat, as well as every other part of his body. Brody was talking nonsense. Will really wanted to hit him, but the room was spinning again.

“Dude, maybe you should ask her why she did it. She could have a perfectly logical explanation.”

“I told you why she did it,” Will bit out.

“Your theory doesn’t make sense.” Brody stepped away from the wall. “But I forgot. You’re William the Conqueror. You have ice water running through your veins. You’d rather live your life thinking the whole world is against you. Or keep your teammates at arm’s length. Hell, you’d even rather believe the worst of the only woman who, besides your mother, probably
actually loves
you. Suit yourself, Connelly. It’s your life.”

He headed for the door.

“Brody,” Will managed to croak out.

Brody stopped in his tracks but didn’t bother to turn around.

“Leave the key,” Will commanded.

“No way, dude. If you pickle yourself silly and die tonight, I want to be able to get your behemoth ass out of here before the stink sets in.”

He closed and locked the door behind him as he left.

The small anteroom where Roscoe and Will waited was blessedly quiet.
After running the gauntlet of reporters and video cameras staked out in the rotunda and along the marble halls of the Russell Senate Office Building, Will was glad to be able to have a few minutes to catch his breath before the hearing. He leaned his pounding head back against the wall and closed his eyes, while Roscoe stared out the large window overlooking the garden courtyard below them.

“I could get used to working in a place like this,” Roscoe mused. “The history and the architecture of this building can be a little awe-inspiring.” There was a touch of reverence in his voice.

“You’re starting to sound like Gavin.” Will didn’t bother opening his eyes; they still burned from the assault of the strobe flashes on the video cameras. Or maybe it was the aftereffects of the bourbon. Both, most likely. “He’s always waxing on about cornices and fluting and masonry and porticos. Sounds like a woman half the time.”

The chair next to Will creaked as Roscoe eased into it. “I’ll be sure to tell your best friend you called him a girl.”

Will grunted.

“Are you gonna be able to make it through this thing?” Roscoe asked, his tone equal parts concern and annoyance.

“I only have to repeat one line the entire time. A monkey could do it.”

“Yeah, but most monkeys aren’t fighting a colossal hangover. Stupid move on your part.”

“It felt good at the time.”

Roscoe snorted. “It always does.”

The sounds of Roscoe clicking through his messages stirred the quiet of the room. “Uh-oh.”

Will cracked an eyelid. Roscoe was scanning his iPhone.

“Shit! I cannot believe she did this.”

“Your wife posting compromising videos of you on YouTube again?” Will teased.

“Not my wife. Yours.”

That got both of Will’s eyes open. “What?”

Roscoe was scrolling through his phone. “She just released a statement to the press.”

What remained of the previous night’s bourbon rolled through his stomach, cresting in a wave that threatened to spew out of him. What bombshell had she dropped now? Was there any more damage that woman could do to him?

“About?” Will managed to grind out.

“Huh,” Roscoe said as he continued to scroll. “About her new company. Apparently she’s designing baby clothes now.”

Will had to admit the concept made sense. Julianne’s priorities had shifted, and this way she could focus her talents on something that allowed her to include Owen. He quickly snuffed out the burst of pride he felt knowing she’d begun drawing again, though.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Roscoe mumbled.

“What?”

“She’s manufacturing the clothes in a textile factory located just outside Chances Inlet.”

Will felt his weary muscles tense along his spine. “Great. Now I’ve got another reason to avoid that place.” It was ironic that his fake wife had found more acceptance in his hometown than Will ever had.

“That won’t be so easy.” Roscoe looked up from his phone, his eyes shining with what looked like admiration. “She’s named you as the president of the company.”

What?
“Can she do that?” Clearly Will had killed a few too many brain cells last night because nothing Roscoe said was making sense.

“Sure she can. It’s her company. She can do whatever she wants.” Roscoe paused, a bemused look on his face. “Only, now it’s your company, so I guess you can give it back to her.”

Why would Julianne do such a thing? Brody’s words filtered back through the haze of the previous evening.

She didn’t need money that badly.
She could have a perfectly logical explanation. Did you ask her why?

“Give me that.” He ripped the phone from his agent’s hands and began scrolling through the screen. The mayor of Chances Inlet was singing Will’s praises for being a visionary, persuading Julianne to locate her company in their town. She’d named both his mother and Patricia McAlister as members of the board of directors. And Mrs. Elderhaus! What did his first-grade teacher know about running a company?

“She’s crazy,” Will muttered. “Bat-shit crazy.”

“Skip down to the part about the profits. You’re gonna love that.” Roscoe was definitely amused now.

According to the press release, the profits earned from the company would be used to establish a sports and activities club for youth in Chances Inlet where kids could hang out after school. The Second Chances Center, as Julianne had dubbed it, would also provide academic assistance and job training to the area’s most needy kids. It was visionary, all right. A freaking brilliant way to get back in Will’s good graces. The problem was, he wasn’t buying it. If this was her way of apologizing, it was too little, too late.

“I seriously underestimated your wife’s manipulative skills, Will. I’ve gotta hand it to her, this move trumps our attempt to get public opinion on your side. Not only that, but she’s just proved that she doesn’t need your money. It’s all over the Internet that stores are clamoring for her designs.”

Will wanted to howl with frustration, but the door to the large hearing room opened and his attention immediately focused on Senator Marchione. The buzz from the assembled media reached a crescendo before Julianne’s brother closed the door behind him.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen.”

Will didn’t think he looked sorry at all.

“We’ve had a change in plans for today . . .”

Roscoe shot to his feet, his game face firmly back in place. “Wait just a minute! You can’t change things up without consulting with us. My client is not at your beck and call.”

The senator perched one of his hips on a corner of the desk under the window. “I beg to differ. As a subpoenaed witness, he
is
at the mercy of the committee’s schedule.” He held a hand out, thwarting Roscoe from interjecting. “But that’s neither here nor there. The fact is the hearing has been canceled. We have no need for your testimony.”

A trace of unease traveled down Will’s spine.

“So all this was for what, then?” Roscoe was working himself into indignant fury.

“To get at the truth, Mr. Mathis. And we’ve done that.”

Will nearly snapped off the wooden arms of the chair in which he sat. He was close behind Roscoe in the anger department. And confused. Where did this all leave him?

The senator made a show of adjusting the sleeves of his suit jacket, prolonging the suspense. “It seems Coach Zevalos has decided to clear his conscience in his last days. He made a full confession to the NFL yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Roscoe nearly shouted as he grabbed for his briefcase. “How come we heard nothing about it?”

Will stood to follow his agent out the door.

“Because it doesn’t impact you or your client.”

That stopped both men in their tracks. Will focused a measuring glare at the senator.

“That’s right.” The senator locked eyes with him. “Coach Zevalos named quite a list of names, but yours wasn’t on it. It seems we were in error in subpoenaing you.”

Roscoe didn’t waste a breath. “I want that in writing,” he demanded. “Today.”

The tension crackled in the room as the three men stared at one another for a moment. Finally, the senator gave the briefest of nods. Will squeezed out a breath through lungs he hadn’t realized he was constricting.

“In that case, we’re out of here.” Roscoe headed for the door, Will at his heels.

“Just one minute,” the senator called after them. “Will, can I have a word with you?”

Roscoe stopped, his hand poised on the doorknob. Curious, Will figured it was worth a few minutes of his time to hear the senator’s excuse as to why he and his sister had used him. Hell, yeah, he wanted answers. If for no other reason than so no woman would be able to dupe him again like Julianne had.

They both turned back to face the senator, who was still seated on the corner of the desk.

“Alone, if you don’t mind.” He phrased it as if it were a question, but all three men knew it wasn’t.

Roscoe shot a sideways glance at Will, an eyebrow raised in question. Will nodded.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Roscoe mumbled as he slid past. “We’re almost home free.”

A roar went up in the other room as Roscoe slipped out. Will remained where he was. Propping a shoulder up against the doorjamb, he tucked his arms across his chest. He tried to give the impression that he couldn’t care less about what the senator had to say, when in fact apprehension coursed through his veins.

The senator heaved a sigh. “It seems I owe you an apology.”

“Yeah, I believe that’s what the written statement is for.”

“No, a personal apology. It’s because of me you’re in this mess.”

Will arched an eyebrow at him, wishing somehow one of the hundreds of media piranhas outside could record this. “You and your sister, you mean.”

He brushed Will’s comment aside with a hand through the air. “Julianne was tangential to my reasons for giving the information to the committee. I honestly thought I was doing the right thing.”

“If you consider ruining a man’s career the right thing,” Will said tersely.

“Obviously I misjudged the whole situation. I thought I was doing her a favor.”

“By having her spy on me and seducing my secrets out of me so you could drag me in front of your committee and totally unman me?”

“That wasn’t how it was,” the senator argued. “Julianne wasn’t spying on you. I could barely get her to tell me how the baby was, much less answer questions about you.”

“Really, so I’m supposed to believe those cozy phone calls and texts every day were innocent?”

“Yes!” The senator yelled. He leaped off the desk and began pacing the room. “When I dragged you up here that first day, it was to help the baby. For Julianne. She was sick with worry over the possibility of losing her son. I certainly never intended to force her to marry you.”

Will tried not to cringe. Apparently, even the duplicitous sister of a con-man senator wasn’t good enough for a boy from the Seaside Vista Trailer Park.

“She was out of her mind, selling her business to pay his medical bills. Too proud to ask for help. So yes, I called her every day because I was worried about her and Owen. I was full of guilt for pushing her down a path she might not have otherwise chosen.”

“You’ve made the point quite clear that I’m not the first choice either of you would have made.”

The senator snorted. “Yeah, well, I was wrong. Very wrong.”

The breath in Will’s lungs began to seize up again.

The senator pinched the bridge of his nose. “Apparently, she was blissfully happy being married to you. Until I screwed it up.”

Will’s body went rigid, his heart slowing to a near-stop as he contemplated the senator’s words.

“I should have guessed that she was in love with you by the way she so vehemently defended you that day on the phone. She never intended to tell me your secret, but it was out before she could stop it. You have to know she had no inkling of anyone in the Senate investigating you. It would never be on Julianne’s radar.”

He let the senator’s words sink in. Julianne had been telling the truth. She hadn’t told her brother on purpose. And Will hadn’t believed her.

“She’s let me know in no uncertain terms how she feels about you since then, though.” He sat down lethargically in the chair Roscoe had occupied earlier. “Not to mention how she feels about me. Definitely not the same feelings, in case you were wondering.” His smile was rueful. “So please, don’t blame her for my actions. I was simply playing big brother. I saw an opportunity to get her out of the marriage before the agreed-upon time frame, and I exercised it. She would never believe this, but I would use anything at my disposal to make her happy. Even if it meant making an enemy out of you.”

Will was stunned. He was afraid to move a muscle in case this was all some sort of dream. First he’d been exonerated from Bountygate. Now he was hit with the truth about Julianne: She did love him.
And she hadn’t sold him out
. His heartbeat was more rapid now and his body burned to take action. He only hoped it wasn’t too late. Unfortunately, the senator was in a mood to commiserate.

“The truth is I don’t know my sister as well as a brother should. Julianne’s mother, Daria, was my father’s second wife. My dad never really loved my own mother. Theirs was one of those society marriages, the kind good for a diplomat’s career.” He looked at Will as if he expected him to agree. “Dad worshipped Daria, though. When she died, he was devastated. He couldn’t bear to look at Julianne anymore because every time he did, he saw Daria. Our father didn’t care that the poor girl had just lost her mother; he sent her off to boarding school almost immediately. I was in the States, in law school with a life of my own by then.”

The senator dragged his fingers through his hair. “She grew up without anyone to protect and guide her. I’m a father myself now and I now know how lonely Julianne’s life must have been. I let her down. I guess I just thought . . .” He shook his head in disgust, not bothering to finish his thought, before standing to face Will. “Anyway, for what’s it’s worth, I apologize. To both of you, for all the trouble this has caused. Please, tell her I was only doing what I thought was best for her and Owen. It may have been misguided, but it was out of love.”

Will shifted to his full height, amazed his body could still move. He felt like he’d taken a pounding from an entire offensive line.

“I’m sure she’d rather hear it from you.” Will had his own groveling to do.

“She hasn’t returned a text or phone call.” The senator shoved his hands into his pockets, a melancholy expression on his face. “The only message she left was to tell me she never wanted to see me or anyone with the last name Marchione again. She even refused the money from our grandmother’s trust she’d asked me to secure for her.”

“Then what did she use to finance her new company?”

“You knew about that? She gave me the impression that was supposed to be a surprise.”

Chagrined, Will shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Her plan hadn’t been a preemptive strike, after all, but a well-thought-out business proposal. “It was a surprise,” he admitted. “Julianne released the details to the public today.”