I could do this. I had to do this. There had to be a way to pretend I wasn’t completely drawn to Isaac Price. I had to cover every ounce of attraction. The instant my fingertips brushed over his palm, I felt a blaze underneath my skin. It was ridiculous to have such an instant and sudden pull to someone. It wasn’t rational. Was it?

I took a step away from him, trying to clear the steam that had clouded my head. His broad shoulders and sculpted arms were enough to make any woman’s panties wet. But there was something intoxicating about knowing I owned him. He was on my team. I shook my head. I couldn’t believe I was even thinking something like that.

“Why don't you have a seat, Isaac and tell me why you wanted to meet this morning.” I tried to sound professional and in control of the situation.

I pointed to the couch that was tattered on the edges. I was embarrassed this was the furniture in my office. If I lasted past opening night, I would have to hire a decorator to take care of this.

Isaac settled his heavy frame onto the sofa. I tried not to lick my lips when I saw him stretch his arm over the back. I could see the way his bicep flexed and tightened with every movement.

“I wanted to have this meeting because I think it's important we began salary negotiations as quickly as possible.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He was restless.

I crossed my legs carefully, realizing my skirt showed off more thigh then I intended. I saw his eyes flash to my skin. I felt another rush of heat in my core. There was no way Isaac thought of me as anything other than ownership, but it didn't mean the fantasy wasn't there. I tried to push it away. I needed to focus on the meeting. I was officially a businesswoman. I needed to act like it.

“Salary? Don't all the players have contracts?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes. I need you to consider that I’m here on behalf of a lot of the guys. Some don’t have the skills to negotiate and I don’t want them left behind. I don't know how to say this any other way.” He rubbed the back of his thick dark hair.

“Go ahead,” I urged. There was something honorable and sweet about how he stood up for his teammates. “I’d like to hear what the players think. I need to gather as much information about the team and organization as I can.” I smiled.

“Honestly, the Warriors are the lowest paid team in the American Football Association. There’s no justification for it. I can tell you right now, some guys out there have agents. Some have attorneys. And they all want the same thing. Money.” His dark eyes flickered.

“Oh.” I didn't know what to say. I was embarrassed about the sofa, but mortified that if what he said was true, my grandfather had underpaid the entire team. Would Granddad do that? If so, there were things much cheaper in this building than his choice in furniture.

“I could give you facts and figures,” Isaac continued. “Or I could just tell you, if you don’t pay them what they are worth, they are going to walk. They’re not going to win games for you. You’re not gonna make money this season. And I don’t know how you'll ever have a team. It won’t matter if you get the first-round draft pick and the second and the third. No one wants to be a Warrior when they can go somewhere else and make triple the money.”

“What about the other wide receivers on the team?” I asked.

Isaac shook his head. “Same. Dylan James makes less than me. No one on this team brags about the money. Everyone knows it. Everyone in the league. The Warriors used to be the Texas team.”

I could tell he was on the verge of breaking free. Of breaking out from behind the filter. There was more he wanted to say, but Isaac was a controlled man. He had chosen these words with purpose.

“Just tell me. It might be my first day in the office. But it’s not my first day with the Warriors. I know more than you might think.” I had to play the charade as long as I could.

He exhaled heavy breaths. “Fine. Your grandfather was a cheap son of a bitch. This team is a disgrace because he didn’t pay any of us well. The locker room is a shit hole. Our equipment malfunctions. This is no way to be a professional team. Something has to be done, or you’re going to lose the Warriors in this ownership cycle. Someone will buy the team from you for next to nothing.”

I felt a strange sense of resentment sink into my shoulders. Part of me knew what he was saying was true. I saw it. When we traveled for away games, I saw the facilities the other teams had. I sat in other family boxes. I knew ownership profits on other league teams were distributed into the business. But that's not how my grandfather ran things. The McCabe family fortune was massive. We had more money, land, and houses then we could ever use or need.

I needed a minute. I didn’t want him to see my defensive stance.

“Thank you, Isaac. I’ll look into it." I began to rise from the seat, pushing my hands into the armrests. I needed them to steady myself.

“That's it? Are we going to talk numbers?” There was a new flicker in his eyes. It made me catch my breath. He was intoxicating without even trying.

“I’m not ready for that yet.”

“When, then?” he pressed.

“What if we meet again tomorrow?” I bit my lip nervously. I did need help with the team. I needed someone on the inside who knew the players. Someone who could guide me. “You could go into more detail. Tell me the specifics?”

I caught the quick glance of his eyes to my breasts. Then they lifted toward mine. He nodded, rubbing the dark scruff on his cheek. “I can do tomorrow.”

“Good. I have a lot of people to meet with today. I’m sure you understand. I’m not making any promises or decisions right away.” I smiled at him.

“That's good to hear. There are a lot of men counting on you to do the right thing.” He reached his hand toward me, and for a second I wondered if he was going to wrap it around my waist and pull me toward him. I wanted to be pressed against his rock-hard body. Feel the indentations where muscle met bone. I had lost my mind.

Instead, I remembered I was ownership now. My hand slid into his and I felt the roughness of his palm. I closed my eyes for a second, imagining what his hands would feel like tracing my body. There was a silent whimper on my lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He dropped my hand and turned toward the door. As soon as it closed, I collapsed into the chair. My knees had given out. I didn't how much longer I could have stayed in a room with Isaac Price.

* * *

I never thought about what my grandfather did on a daily basis. Until today. My shoulders slumped, and I crossed my ankles under the desk, kicking the heels off my feet. I’d had one meeting after another. I’d met with the coach. I’d met with advertising and marketing. I’d heard from the building manager and the equipment specialist. The one thing I’d heard repeatedly from every man I met with was that there wasn't enough money.

The one person who wasn't lined up to meet with me was our corporate accountant. He was the man with the money answers. I tapped the button on my phone, calling Candy. Within seconds she appeared in the doorway.

“Did you need something, Vanessa?” she asked. I could tell she was practicing using my first name.

I nodded. “Can you set up a meeting for me with our business manager?”

“Sure. What day?”

I realized I would not be able to grant any of the requests I’d heard without a full understanding of the money. Everyone wanted something from me. I didn’t know the extent of the accounts.

“This afternoon.”

“I will make sure to get him in here before the end of the day.” She smiled. “Do you want me to order lunch for you? You've been trapped in here for hours. It looks like you could use a little food.”

“That’s very sweet, but…” I didn't know why I was arguing. My stomach growled. I had two cups of coffee and half a bagel this morning. I needed food.

“Let me get it for you,” she offered a second time.

“Ok, yes. Lunch would be amazing.”

“No problem. I will go get something for you and be back in thirty minutes.”

“Wait, Candy before you go, can I ask you something?”

She paused at the door. "Sure. What is it?”

I didn’t know how to phrase it. “Do you think you make enough money in your position? Are you paid fairly?” I shook my head, realizing how personal my question was. “It’s ok whatever you tell me. I won't be upset or offended. I just need to know. It would be a huge help.”

She pressed her lips together. I didn't know anything about Candy’s skills. She was pleasant, and pretty. That might’ve been the only qualification my grandfather cared about. But while I was here I might as well check on her perspective. She was a part of this organization too. She knew everyone who ever stepped foot in this building.

“I don't know how to answer that,” she admitted. She shrugged her shoulders. “I don't really think about the money I make working in the office.”

“What do you mean? You get a paycheck, don’t you?”

“There are a lot of perks for working with the football team. I’m here because I love all the benefits.” She grinned widely. “I’m not here for the paycheck.”

It took me a second to realize what she was saying. “Ohh. You mean...” I immediately blushed, feeling naïve.

Candy giggled. “I’m happy to tell you more, but maybe we should just leave it at that.”

I nodded, suddenly uncomfortable and feeling more out of my element than ever. She basically admitted that she was here to sleep with players and accept gifts and money from them. What kind of world had I landed in?

“I think that's best.”

“I’ll be back with lunch. Hopefully no one will bother you while I'm gone. I left my number on the desk if you need me.”

“Thank you, Candy.”

I slumped in my chair, knowing I was drowning. Nothing made sense and I had no idea how to swim in water this deep.