“Damn it. I should’ve got his autograph. None of the guys are going to believe me when I tell them about this. Good thing I took a picture.” Keith sets his sandwich down on the wrapper and wipes his hands on a napkin.

“He’s just a guy.”

“Lilah, he’s not just a guy. Everyone knows who he is even if they’re not wrestling fans.”

I shrug my shoulders. “Can we talk about something else, please? I don’t want to be reminded of work right now.”

“Sure. How about we talk about you moving here to live?”

“You were serious about that?”

“Completely.”

“But how would that work? What about my job? I travel all the time.”

“I know you do and I’d never interfere with your work. But when you’re not travelling we’d be together.” He smiles, taking my hand in his. “I miss you.” His brown eyes sparkle earnestly showing me the truth in his words.

My stomach flutters from his sweet words. Keith is a great guy and I’m probably a fool for not jumping at the chance to get back together with him, but I’m not ready to make a commitment to anyone. “I miss you too,” I reply, but it feels like a lie. I miss Keith the same way I would miss Carly if I didn’t see her all the time. It’s nothing compared to the way I miss Jesse when I don’t see him. “We’ve been apart for longer than we were together. This isn’t a decision I can make right now. I need some time to think about it.”

He nods. “Take all the time you need.”

* * *

As soon as I step inside my hotel room, my cell phone rings. Glancing down at the screen, I sigh when I notice it’s my father calling. Great. Dad doesn’t call unless he needs something and most of the time that involves doing something I won’t be happy about. Allowing the phone to continue ringing, I debate with myself if I should answer it or not. I’ve already had a tough start to my day. Why would I want my dad to be the cherry on top of the disaster sundae my morning has been?

The ringing ends as I sink down on top of the bed. Lying back, I kick off my flip flops and relax into the plush, comfortable pillow beneath my head. My eyelids fall shut and I exhale a sigh of relief. It’s not even noon yet and I’m ready for a nap. Spending time in Jesse’s company is emotionally exhausting. I’m on edge the entire time and torn between wanting to run from him and never wanting to leave.

My phone chimes alerting me of a text. Groaning, I glare at the screen already knowing what I’m going to find. Yep, I knew it. My dad’s sent me a message.

Dad: Meeting in my suite in fifteen. Don’t be late.

This message is typical. He never asks; it’s always a demand. He’s not purposely trying to be rude, he’s just used to people jumping when he tells them to. Lucky for him he has a daughter to keep him grounded.

Would it kill him to ask me if that time worked for me?

Me: Yes sir. I’ll be there. But food for thought - What if I wasn’t near the hotel?

Dad: Aren’t you here?

Me: You’re missing the point, Daddio.

Dad: Are you making one?

I salute my phone, but not the military kind. Mine is the middle finger version and I only resort to such actions when I’m alone. No one would ever imagine me flipping my father off, but no one understands what a prick he can be - a loveable prick, I’ll give him that. I’m forever doing his bidding and I know that he’s my boss, but I can’t seem to say no to him no matter how hard I try. Even when he asks me to do things I don’t want to because making sure World Class Wrestling thrives is my priority. And it has. Business is great. If you ask my dad he’d probably tell you things could be better, but we brought in more revenue this past year than any other.

Glancing in the mirror, I run a brush through my hair and neaten my ponytail. Staring down at my tank top and shorts, I grimace. I’m sure Dad expects me to change into business attire, but I’m not going to. It’s Sunday and my day off. He’s lucky I’m even going to this meeting.

I brush my teeth and swipe on some pink lip gloss before grabbing my phone and room key. My hand rubs my uneasy stomach on the short elevator ride. I almost get cold feet and walk away from the suite, but I take a deep breath and remind myself that kind of behavior would be unprofessional. Being a Turner comes with a list of expectations and running from problems is never acceptable. I rap on the steel and wait to be let inside; all the while, shaking in my flip flops.

What bomb is he about to drop on me?

I’m not being paranoid; there’s always something. My hand raises to knock once more when the door swings inward startling me. My mother smiles and grabs my hand, tugging me inside. She gives me a quick hug. “Come on honey. Daddy and the others are waiting.”

“Others?” I whisper. My eyes grow wide with panic.

What others?

My hands smooth down over the material of my tank top. Maybe I should run in the bathroom and tuck it in?

Get a grip, Lilah. It doesn’t matter. Unrealistic expectations often get the better of me when I’m unprepared for a situation. Fuck. I press a palm to my forehead and take a deep breath for courage. It feels as though I’m about to step directly inside the lion’s den. I assumed this was going to be a private discussion between the two of us. I should've known he never does what I expect.

“Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her presence,” my dad announces, from his seat at the end of the table. His eyes sparkle mischievously as he catches sight of me. Pressing my teeth into my bottom lip, I refuse to respond. I’m not rising to his bait. Teasing me and pushing my buttons is a game he likes to play. “We’ve already begun the meeting. Take a seat so we can continue.”

I want to ask him how it is that the meeting has already begun when I’m early for it?

But, I remain silent like the dutiful daughter I am. Or should I say the dutiful daughter I appear to be in front of others? His deep voice fades into the background turning into white noise as my eyes drift around the large table. Uncle Allen, my father’s younger brother and the Vice President of the company is in attendance. Jesse’s also here. I do a double take when I see him.

What the hell is he doing here?

Bob Hale, aka Bobby ‘Buzzsaw,’ another one of our wrestlers, and Jesse’s former tag team partner is sitting across the table. The two were portrayed as best friends until about six weeks ago, when Jesse betrayed Buzzsaw in a tag team title match. Jesse was supposed to become a heel and Buzzsaw was in line for a push to the singles championship.

It was supposed to happen that way... but it didn’t.

Fans went crazy for Jesse’s new attitude. The clips of him tossing a confused Buzzsaw over the top rope, through a table and then standing over him laughing went viral. The more the writers pushed Jesse as a bad guy, the more audiences responded, and the trend has continued. For every show since then it’s the same story; the women love him, and the men want to hang out with him.

Unfortunately, Bobby Buzzsaw hasn’t fared as well. He’s been seeing less air time and his matches are further and further away from the main event with each new show. He looks miserable and is clearly not happy with the turn in fortunes.

My eyes dart back to my father and I remind myself I need to pay attention to what he’s saying.

“There’s not a lot to say, Bob.” He looks and speaks directly to Hale. “You know this business; we give the people what they want. Right now, they want Jesse.” My father leans over and places a hand on Hale’s shoulder. “I’ve been around long enough to know how quickly favor can change. I hope you hang in there with us and stay ready for your opportunity when it comes.”

Bob leaves the room feeling better and maybe even more determined to succeed. My father’s good with people. He always has been. I’m not the only one who does what he says.

“Allen and I’ve been strategizing about how to best ride this wave of attention. Jesse, the numbers are unlike any we’ve seen before. The ratings are up, your merchandise is selling out on a regular basis.” He smiles and turns to me. “We need some fresh ideas for online content.” He steeples his hands and remains silent.

Dad makes me nervous and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I’ve always been his little girl and I want to impress him with my intellect and hard work. He’s put my youth and knowledge of all social media to good use by appointing me head of online marketing. Which is just a fancy way of saying I handle Twitter, Instagram, Facebook. I also oversee a group of staff who monitor and assist with the social media presence for each wrestler. My team makes sure they're drawing the viewers in to the current storylines while posting as well. We've come a long way in a short time and our performers’ online followers are larger than most celebrities.

“Are you asking me if I have any ideas right now?”

He nods and adjusts one of his cufflinks.

Think. Think. Think.

My mind runs over a dozen possibilities, but none of them are right for the direction we’re heading in. I’m distracted and it’s Jesse Gunn’s fault.

Why must he look so sexy sprawled in his chair?

Why does he have to smell so good, like a combination of soap and whatever masculine cologne he spritzed on?

“What do you think of his idea, Lilah?”

“Huh?” My eyes sweep over to my father.

“What do you think of Jesse’s idea?”

“Could you please repeat it?”

“Lilah, how are you going to take a more active role in the company if you can’t even focus for five minutes?”

Who said I’m taking a more active role? My role is already pretty fucking active.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur. It’s not worth trying to explain that I was thinking about what he said and trying to form an idea.

“Lilah, are you listening now?” Dad asks, in a deep, teasing, yet firm tone.

I barely avoid rolling my eyes and bite back a grin. “Yes, sir.” I resist the urge to salute and mock him. We are in a professional meeting no matter how casually I’m dressed.

“Jesse suggested the two of you spend some time together on a road trip and brainstorm. I want you on this quick. Striking while the iron is hot is imperative.” His stare is direct. “Lilah, are you clear on what I need you to do?”

What exactly does he need me to do? What does brainstorming with Jesse entail?

“You and Jesse will drive to our next location and come up with a plan for the storyline. Just to be clear, I still want you to oversee all the other social media account managers like you always do, but you’ll be taking over Jesse’s.”

I nod my head, agreeably, but still uncertain of what he expects of me. I’ve never been responsible for plot planning before or anything resembling it. Thinking about it is extremely intimidating.

Dad rises from his chair and gestures, like a king lording over his servants, for us to do the same.

Spinning around, I quickly scurry toward the door hoping no one notices. “Whoo”, I exhale as I step into the hall. My flip flops scuff as I move along the carpeted length. I need to put distance between Jesse and myself while I can.