Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
She hugged him. He was correct, sometimes you did, and she only hoped he would forgive her when his came knocking.
Chapter Seventeen
A week later
“Let me just get the folder off the desk and I’ll be right there.” Linc hurried into the office, which, honestly, he viewed as Emma’s, not his. Flicking on the light, he skimmed over the items on the desk for the folder he sought for this new investor.
Emma had a great system and he was learning it so when he found the yellow tab on the top, he pulled. It slid free of the stack but it wasn’t the only one. Another fell as well.
Savaglio.
What the fuck was his name doing on a folder? Lifting all the yellow ones, he flipped through them. His gut churned with betrayal at each new name he read. Fox. Jones. Freeman. Santino. Yun. And more. So many more.
It took him a moment to calm the rage in his blood. He put the folders back and left with only the one he needed. Charlie Toby. One of the men they’d met with in San Antonio.
The man had walked down the hall while waiting for him and was by the doors to the gym. Moving up beside him, Linc peered in the vertical pane of glass.
High schoolers were practicing and Mitchell was watching. Not playing but on the sidelines offering up advice as he coached.
“Would you like to watch?”
Charlie grinned. “My son plays in middle school. He’s not going to believe that I was in a room with Mitchell Anderson.”
“Let’s go over this and I’ll introduce you.”
They sat at the top section closest to the door so they could have a bit of a conversation. Once Charlie signed, Linc sighed with relief. Two of the eight they’d gone to meet, along with Mr. Stevenson, hadn’t wanted to sign. Mr. Stevenson was still up in the air but Charlie and three others had already agreed to invest.
True to his word, after the game had finished, he walked Charlie down to speak with Mitchell. Leaving them together, he flexed a hand around the folder he held before realizing he had to talk to Emma about those names.
As he walked up the hall to the front, he passed the paintings she’d encouraged him to hang. Hell, the one he did the night of her birthday hung in her home. To him, it was a terrible rendition of the night sky, but she claimed she loved it and wouldn’t dream of letting him do another.
He would anyway.
Her laughter found him in the hall and like a puppy on a leash, he was pulled in that direction. She was in the cafeteria cleaning up with some of the kids. They had music playing and were dancing. He recognized R. City and wondered how many of the children actually knew who he was.
Whatever style her hair was in today, he knew it had to be Dawson’s doing. Emma said she’d never learned how to do cute and amazing things with her hair. She glanced over her shoulder and gave him a smile.
It wasn’t easy to return it. She passed a towel to one of the children and walked to him.
“Everything okay? How did the meeting with Mr. Toby go?”
“Fine.” Yep, even to him the word was clipped and short.
She opened her mouth like she had something to say, only to close it and nod. When she stepped nearer, he turned away and retreated to the office.
Sitting at the desk with a groan, he slapped the file down. He should be thrilled that more money was coming in. At the moment, he had more than enough to begin construction on the hockey rink. He and Tully had already gone over what he wanted and the blueprints had been confirmed. He merely had to tell them to start.
A buzzing in the drawer had him pulling it open. Emma’s phone was lying face down and he picked it up. Unknown number. Without thinking about anything other than making sure it wasn’t Paul, he answered.
“Hello?”
“Hey, beautiful. I spoke to a few of the guys and while they were a bit hesitant because of Linc’s name being mentioned, they’re willing to give it a shot. We’ll meet you there.”
Could his heart pound out of his chest?
“Emma? You there?”
“No, she’s not,” he bit off.
“Who is this?”
“I should be asking the same question. Who are you?”
Muffled talking. “Linc? Is that you?”
He ended the call and dropped her phone in the drawer. Slamming it shut, he picked up a Post-it and wrote Signed. Slapping it on the top of Toby’s folder, he left it on the desk. She would scan it in the computer and get them both signed copies.
Linc stormed out of the office and away from the center. He saw Mitchell watching him, his expression one of concern, but he didn’t have it in him to be polite in front of the children. So he went home and retreated to his basement.