Chapter Six

The heart monitor at Delgado’s bedside beeped a steady rhythm. Dean’s presence hadn’t caused him any stress so far. Hopefully he could keep it that way. At least the man was well enough for home care.

“So, how is my baby girl doing so far?” Delgado pushed himself up on his stiff gold silk covered pillows and smiled at Dean. “I trust you’re leading her in the right direction and not letting those fags speak for her.”

Dean kept his eyes on the rise and fall of the red line on the monitor, choking down the urge to remark on the man’s bigotry. “I do believe Silver is quite capable of making decisions on her own.”

“I’m not sure if you’re implying that this is a good thing.”

Might as well get straight to the point. “It’s not. She made an acquisition without consulting me. And she is determined to make a trade that I object to.”

Delgado dropped his head onto his pillows. “Is she?”

“She is.”

“She can’t . . .” Delgado pressed his eyes shut and the bleeping sped up. “I want my lawyers. Get me my lawyers, Richter. I want a clause in there than prevents her from running the team on her silly little girlish whims. And get her here too.” He groaned and pressed his hand over his heart. “I should have seen this coming. She’s just like her mother.”

Dean took a deep breath. He knew enough of their family history to object to Silver being compared to her mother no matter what she’d done. “Surely not like her mother, sir. I can’t believe—”

“Believe it. Both women were coddled and spoiled all their lives.” Delgado took a shallow breath, and the monitor let off an ear piercing sound which made Dean frown. The stupid thing must be hypersensitive. His father’s heart rate had become much more erratic before the alarm went off. And he hadn’t been able to speak as Delgado still was. “Silver is the spitting image of her mother. I hate that she got her license. Do everything in your power to keep her from driving anywhere. You never know—”

“You must be clear with me, Mr. Delgado.” Dean held his hand up to the nurse that rushed into the room. “What exactly is it you are asking me to do?”

“Keep my daughter alive, Richter.” Delgado’s eyes rolled back into his head, and the nurse quickly injected something into his IV. “I can’t lose her. Not again.”

The nurse shooed him out and Dean took a seat on the bench that had been set up in the hall outside Delgado’s bedroom, jaw clenched so hard his muscles ached. He should feel some sort of pity for the man, but it was difficult after seeing his father go through the same thing just a few years back. Both men had been given the same advice to improve their quality of life. Regular exercise, a special rehabilitation program, a healthy diet—Delgado refused to do any of it. Dean’s father had lasted two years, two wonderful years, before his heart gave out for the last time. The way Delgado was going, he wouldn’t last another month. But he lashed out at anyone who suggested he fight to live. He’d fired two nurses and replaced the consulting doctor when they tried to reason with him.

“I’ll finally be with my wife. And . . . my son,” he’d said.

With no thought to the children he’d leave behind.

Dean had to call the lawyers, no doubt about it. But part of him hurt for Silver. She probably thought what she was doing would give her father time to get better. But her father didn’t see her as his daughter. He saw her as the woman he’d lost. A mere reflection of the woman he hoped to join in death very soon.

And where did that leave Oriana? If anyone should be running the team in her father’s place, it should be her. But the man didn’t see it. He behaved as though he’d only ever had two children. And the favorite was dead.

Any mention of Oriana was forbidden by the doctor as well as a long list of “stressors,” which left Dean with no way to improve the situation. All he could do was stop it from getting any worse.

Silver’s temporarily replacing her mother, and the team is temporarily replacing his son. Someone has to be thinking long term, Richter.

Heaving out a heavy sigh, Dean took out his phone and called Delgado’s lawyers. After a short, cordial chat, he hung up and prepared for an unpleasant conversation that couldn’t be put off any longer.

No answer. When the voice mail came on, he kept his tone crisp and professional. “Silver, when you get this message, come to your father’s house. He’d like to speak to you.”

Ending the call, he shoved his phone in his pocket and let out a sound of disgust that startled the butler, causing the man to appear a bit less like one of the many antiques stationed around the house. The butler’s grayish skin dropped a shade as he stared at Delgado’s door like his employer would come out any moment and tear into him for breathing too loud. This whole ordeal stank of the kind of drama he’d closed himself off from after his wife left him. Of course, he still had to deal with a certain amount from his teenage daughter, but . . .

Silver isn’t that much older than Jami. The thought made him groan and he massaged his temples as a dull ache settled between them. He should have considered that before sleeping with the woman, but something about her seemed worldly beyond her years. It was hard to believe Silver was in the same generation as his defiant, yet still so innocent, daughter.

Laughing dryly, he considered another big difference between the two. There was no guarantee Jami would respond to a request from her father to see her.

He didn’t doubt for a second that Silver would be here within the hour.

* * * *

A mallet swung rhythmically inside Silver’s head, each strike pacing her pulse. She squinted at the digital clock on the night table by her bed—the red blur strengthened the blows against her skull. Looked like four something. The scent of coffee beckoned and she stumbled to the kitchen, blindly pouring herself a cup and hissing when some spilled on her hand.

Shit! She brought her hand to her mouth and laved away the burn with her tongue. Landon must have left hours ago! Why is this so hot?

Quick sips of coffee and some stretching got her feeling more bruised than beaten. As she splashed some cold water from the kitchen sink on her face, the coffee machine caught the corner of her eye. The time had been fixed and the brew was set on automatic. Apparently for two hours after she’d crashed.

I so owe Landon a great big hug! She smiled and polished off her coffee, her spirits rising as she thought back on their lunch together. Maybe this being friends thing was a good idea after all. The men she fucked were never this considerate!

Two vitamins and some orange juice had her feeling steady enough to hop into the shower. Almost back to normal after she dressed and fixed her hair, she decided to brave her phone. The first message was from Landon.

She didn’t bother listening to the rest before calling him back. She got his voice mail.

“Hey, you!” She fiddled with her hair and tried to find the right words to express her gratitude. “Damn, I don’t know what to say—and if you knew me better, you’d know that’s rare. Thank you. For everything. I’m feeling a lot better and I’m looking forward to hanging out again—I’m mean—well, when you’re not busy. Okay, I should erase this message. I sound pathetic, don’t I?” She giggled and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Don’t insult your friend.”

She listened to the silence, wishing she could hear Landon’s voice. She wanted that feeling again—the one that she’d had the entire time she was with him. Was this what it was like to have a friend? A real one?

“Okay, before I get all sappy, I’m gonna hang up. But . . . well, give me a call.”

Jerking the phone away from her mouth before she could say anything else, she eyed the phone. If she pressed two, the message would be erased. But she held her breath and pressed one.

“If he doesn’t think I’m a freak after lunch, this won’t faze him.” She gave a firm nod and played the rest of her messages. One from Dean—her throat tightened. Daddy wanted to see her.

The next message made her skin crawl.

“My name is Charles Lee. I represent Roy Kingsley, one of the team’s investors.” The man said smoothly. “I would like to meet you at your convenience to discuss the coming season. It would be in your best interest to schedule an appointment within the next few days.”

Sure, I’m right on that. She pressed “end” and stuffed her phone in her purse. Then took it back out. She could ignore that last call—let Dean deal with the creepy investors—but she wouldn’t ignore Daddy.

Her hand slipped over her little vial, found a tiny pack of licorice, and fisted around it. I disappointed him once by taking off. I won’t do it again.

Half an hour later, she strode up to Daddy’s front door, straightened the skirt to her new suit, and pressed her finger on the doorbell.

The butler, whose name she’d never gotten because Daddy didn’t approve of chatting with the staff, let her in with a courteous, “Your father is expecting you, Miss Silver.”

“Thank you.” She inclined her head, then clipped across the grand room and hurried up the stairs. She ignored Dean, who was waiting in the hall, and burst into Daddy’s room. “Daddy, you’re looking so much better!”

His cold look stopped her in her tracks. “What have you done?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that now.” She slapped a bright smile on her lips. “How soon will you be strong enough to get out of that bed?”

“Maybe never.” He sat up and slammed his fist into the rumpled blankets. “I trusted you! How dare you take it on yourself to make decisions for the team without consulting the advisors I provided for you! What were you thinking?”

“But you said we needed a sniper . . .” A blank look. Didn’t he remember leaving the message? She barreled on, willing to take the heat for following his directions to avoid agitating him more than necessary. “We have to entertain the fans, Daddy.” She sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand. “I know how to do that. I thought that’s why you chose me?”

“No. I chose you because there was no one else.”

“But—”

“Shut up!” The veins in his neck swelled and his face reddened. Her hand hovered over her throat as she prepared for him to collapse, but his face shifted into a chilling calm. “I have made Richter your partner. Because of your stupidity, I was left with no choice but to give him proxy control of fifty percent of the team. Fortunately, the doctor found me fit to make the decision. Otherwise, you’d still have the power to destroy everything I’ve built!”

Destroy it? Her eyes teared up. “Daddy—”

“I said ‘shut up.’” His monitors made a frightening sound as he dropped back onto the bed, quivering with rage. “You do nothing unless Richter approves it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she hastened to wipe them away. “I’m sorry.”

His shaky smile took her off guard. “I know you are. You’re a good girl. I will forget everything you’ve done in the past if you can do this.”

“I can.” She clenched her fists at her sides. “I will.”

“All right.” He settled into the bed and the monitors stopped making that awful noise. She noticed the nurse hovering but kept her focus on her father as he spoke. “Why don’t you get some renovations done in the boxes? Maybe hire a new PR agent. I’ve asked Richter to let you handle those kinds of things. Much as I hate it, you do have some experience with the media. Make them happy.”

She rubbed her wet nose and nodded. “I can do that.”

“I know you can.” He patted her hand as his eyes drifted shut. “Make me proud.”

Whatever it takes. She vowed as the nurse waved her away.

Dean met her at the door. “Silver—”

“Unless it’s about business, you have nothing to say that I want to hear.” The soreness in her throat burst into sharp little shards of anger. So much for an amicable working relationship. She wouldn’t give him his own way, so he’d found a way around her. “I never took you for a tattle tale, Richter.”

His shoulders squared as he looked down on her. “This isn’t high school, Silver. You wouldn’t listen to me. I knew you’d listen to him.”

“With him in that condition? Of course I’ll listen to him. This upsets him so much . . .” She crossed her arms over her chest, hating that with him this close, she was tempted to move in for the hug he looked tempted to give her. “Just stay out of my business, all right? Like Daddy said, I’m in control of renovations. And more importantly, PR. I wonder how long you can hang onto Sloan after it gets out that he can’t play for shit anymore.”

“I believe you are in for an unpleasant surprise if that’s what you think.”

“We’ll see.” She gave him a sweet smile. “And as for Scott, I hope you can handle him. He’s the kind of man fans want.”

“As if you know what the fans want.” His lips curled into a sneer. “Learn the game. Then we’ll talk.”

You want to hit below the belt, Mister? Hell, his ratting her out cut deep enough to scar, but as long as the marks weren’t physical, she could ignore them. They ranked as high on her scale of importance as her lingering attraction to him. Or her insane longing for his respect. Their verbal battles worked on so many levels. They kept him at arm’s length where he belonged. And I’ve got a few low blows of my own.

“I don’t have to know the game to understand men.” She thrummed her fingers on his chest. “Men idolize those who can get any woman they want. Scott can do that.”

“Can he?” Dean leaned forward and spoke low. “Will you be on his list of conquests?”

“May-be.” She smirked and shrugged. “He’d be a step up from the last guy I fucked.”

She felt his eyes on her back as she spun on her heels and made her way down the stairs. Confident as he was, she sensed that she’d taken this round. If he wanted to keep up with her, he better up his game.