Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Brienne is not an option again, not because I don’t want her here—because clearly I do to some extent, as evidenced by me asking her to stay last night—but because she’s busy running an empire. She doesn’t have time to play nursemaid or babysitter, although I know deep in my gut, she’d do it if I asked.
“I’ll get you some ginger ale. Want some toast?”
She shakes her head. “Not just yet. My stomach’s still a bit queasy.”
I smile and turn for the door.
“I really like her,” Kiera says, halting me. I glance over my shoulder. “Brienne. She’s pretty amazing.”
Swallowing hard, I shrug. “She’s okay.”
Kiera laughs. “You’re so full of shit and you know it.”
I refuse to respond because she won’t believe my denials.
Hell, I’m having a hard time believing them myself.
CHAPTER 24
Brienne
Flipping open my compact, I check my reflection. No hiding the dark circles, but my lipstick is still perfect from when I applied it this morning.
I barely slept an hour, and it was done in fitful increments. While it was sweet that Drake asked me to stay with him, and I don’t deny it was nice lying on his body, I was uncomfortable.
Not because of the sleeping conditions, but because it was just weird. He reacted badly to me being in his house, and try as he did to apologize and explain himself, it’s left a black cloud of uncertainty hanging over me. It’s what woke me up and kept me awake, even though Drake slept soundly underneath me on the couch.
I absolutely hate how much it hurt that he was angry to find me there. Yes, I know we’ve couched our relationship in terms of this not being a relationship, but the truth is… we’re not just hooking up. He’s been jealous, we’ve committed to monogamy, he’s forever concerned I work too much, and now I’ve helped care for his sister and kids.
We’ve moved to something more, perhaps without realizing it, but his true feelings were abundantly clear last night, just in that one question: What are you doing in my home?
I finally gave up on sleep and snuck out around five a.m., thankful for early morning Uber drivers. That didn’t give me the time I needed to stop at home for clothes and then head to the arena gym for a workout, so I got ready and headed into the office.
This morning’s meeting with Cannon West is long overdue. We’re a week and a half into the regular season, and I want to see how he’s doing.
I want to know if he likes us as much as we like him.
When I took over the Titans after Adam died, my goal was to build a team that would withstand the test of time. We did our best with what we had last season, but this summer I had Callum push to the very edge of our salary cap with strong offers. Drake was an example of that, and I haven’t lost a bit of sleep over the money we spent.
I want to give this city something to be proud of.
While the players are key, it’s the head coach who pulls it all together. I could have the best twenty players in the league on my team, but without a coach to inspire cohesion and maximize the talent, it would be money wasted.
I offered Cannon West three million to take the job, and it was a lot more than most would have offered for someone with such limited coaching experience. But Callum suggested we roll the dice, and I like a good, calculated risk.
So far, we’re off to an amazing start, and we don’t look like the decimated team we were last year.
The investment in Cannon was a good decision. And I need to know if he feels like he made a good investment of his time and energy in this organization.
A knock on my door has me stuffing the compact into my purse, and I stand from my desk chair just as Tina escorts Cannon in.
I smile as I walk around the desk to greet him. The gods of gorgeousness blessed Cannon West with near-perfect good looks. Like the kind of flawless facial features that grace the covers of high-end fashion magazines. His dark hair is neat and trimmed, but he wears a perpetual five o’clock shadow. Light hazel eyes have laugh lines at the corners, despite him only being thirty-six, the only thing that mars the perfection, and yet… it’s the laugh lines that make him so beautiful. He’s always got a smile on his face, and I marvel at that as I know he’s suffered greatly.
That is the main reason I wanted him as our coach. I wanted him to show the players, the city, hell, the world that was watching us that you can rise from despair and find peace in your life.