CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After claiming a win in the Midwest, the Villains traveled back to Las Vegas to prepare for the first home game with Simon Smith back as quarterback. Veronica waited with nervous anticipation for the Thursday afternoon emergency press conference.
Not wanting to distract the team during an away game, Veronica had kept her decision a secret. It had almost slipped during last Sunday’s second quarter, when their quarterback had been hit hard and trainers rushed the field. Veronica had tried to make her way to Simon, but her mother had taken her aside.
“Remember your duties to this team and this family, Veronica,” she’d said. “He should be nothing more to you than a man who can win games for us. The team is a machine, and he’s just a part of it. There’s no place for…love…in our front office.”
Now Veronica waited in the pressroom, with a mic and a glass of iced water in front of her. She was alone. That morning, when she’d sat down with her parents and said, “I’m resigning from the franchise,” she’d hoped they would rationally accept her decision. But J.T. had gotten up in arms and Joan had urged her not to lose sight of what was expected of her.
“I promised myself that I would stop neglecting my heart,” she’d told them. “In between getting married and then divorced and taking on this career, I lost myself. I can’t be your enforcer in this business anymore. And I’m asking you, as your daughter, to support me when I announce the resignation.”
In a very professional—clinical—fashion, her parents had called an emergency meeting and named the administration coordinator as interim general manager while they interviewed in-house and outside candidates. The team was a machine, and they’d been able to replace her as easily one would a defective part.
But she sat alone as the doors opened to the press. Her announcement was met with a flurry of questions. It came as second nature to work her magic and spin the situation to make it appear as if her resignation was an exciting turning point for the team, yet a reporter’s simple “What does this development mean for you?” shattered her facade.
Veronica looked out over the faces watching her intently. Then she turned, and there were her parents and the head coach standing in the wings. “This means,” she said into the mic, “that I’m free to focus on what and who I care about outside of this franchise. I’m president of a nonprofit organization, and spending time with the people who come to Faith House feels right. I’m also in love. Someone said to me that being in love is the best feeling there is, and I think that’s true.”
The pressroom all but imploded then. Camera flashes and “Who are you in love with?” questions pelted Veronica, but she’d said all she would say. As she exited the stage, Finn shook her hand. J.T. and Joan looked past her, ignoring their favorite daughter in front of a room filled with media.
◆◆◆
Word that an emergency announcement would be made in the pressroom had cleared the practice field. Players and staff crisscrossed the turf, cursing at the interruption, speculating the reason for the press conference, complaining about the brutal physical demands of today’s practice. Some headed straight for the building to watch the live broadcast indoors, while others sought the coolers and towels.
An emergency announcement meant something huge was happening.
Simon was wary. He went through the motions of toweling off sweat and changing clothes at his locker. The embossed nameplate bearing his name had already been installed. It was one of countless reminders that what he’d pursued for so long was at last his.
But he wasn’t free to lay claim to the woman who’d given him back what had been stolen…the woman he loved with a fierceness that was dark, insatiable.
He’d tried to pretend she wasn’t ingrained in his soul, that he could face a tomorrow without her in it. Only, his heart defeated the lies, one after the other, and all he could do was want her in silence.
Settling into his place on the team was vicious torture when every day they crossed paths because business either brought her down to his field or him up to the administrative offices. Both worked closely with the head coach and hadn’t a hope in hell of avoiding each other.
He treasured every reason to see her, masochistic bastard that he was. He’d rather be near her this way than to not have her at all. That would do until he could force himself to accept that unlike his NFL career, his relationship with Veronica Greer was over.
Unfortunately for him, it was quickly becoming tougher to believe that. Today he’d given his all and then some on the practice field, pushing his body beyond its ordinary limits just to keep his mind from chasing Veronica.
All that effort disintegrated into grit once he entered the massive team lounge to find her image on every television screen.
Simon nudged one of the offensive coaches. “What’s happening? Roster change?”
“The GM’s out.”
“The hell she is,” a woman protested, and Simon and the coach pivoted. Waverly Greer advanced on them, leaving the team’s kicker and the head athletic trainer to venture toward a buffet table without her. She stepped up close, tossing her single braid over her shoulder. A soft scent wafted from her hair. The men had insisted that she was the best-smelling thing on the practice field. “I’d know if my sister was fired.”
“Not fired,” the coach clarified, pointing with two fingers at the closest television. “Veronica quit—resigned. Hey, somebody get the volume up on this TV.”
Waverly’s mouth dropped open, but she didn’t speak—just mutely turned forward and watched through the forest of bodies loitering in front of the screen.
Veronica sat in front of a mic without a single person beside her. Bursts of camera lights shone on her beautiful face, which he could visualize in his dreams with exact accuracy.
“Unreal,” muttered Waverly, who’d found her voice again. “Veronica wouldn’t in a million lifetimes walk away from this team.”
“Snap out of your denial, Waverly,” the coach suggested. “It’s already happened, and they’ve named the interim GM.”
“Damn,” someone hollered. “New GM now? Hey, Coach Walsh, are you planning on rolling out, too?”
“No,” Finn retorted, “I’ll still be here to put you through drills until I see perfection.”
“Coach Walsh,” Waverly said over the din as the man was striding toward the exit, “did you know about this?”
“No. Pressroom’s my next stop. Coming?”
Waverly paused just as Veronica said into her mic, “I’m also in love.”
Simon froze, slinging his gaze from Waverly and Finn to the television. Reporters were yelling over each other, all demanding the same information. A name.
Who are you in love with?
They all wanted to know.
And Simon wanted her to tell them. Say it, Veronica. Tell them you’re in love with me. Tell them I’m your man.
But she shut them down.
“I’ll go later,” Waverly told Finn, but her stare had stalled on Simon in a way that made him feel guilty and affronted at the same time.
When he exited the lounge, he wasn’t surprised that Waverly followed him.
“What’s going on between you and my sister?” It was a softly spoken demand, yet tension was all but written on her, from the jiggle of one of her feet to the way she’d crossed her arms and was gripping her waist.
“Ask Veronica.”
“She announced to the nation that she’s resigning from the Villains. She followed that up with the confession that she’s in love. If Veronica had wanted to tell me what’s going on, she would’ve.” Waverly unwound her arms, and there was a flare of temper in her eyes. “So I’m asking you. Are you the man she’s in love with?”
“I’m not going to speak for her. But I’ll tell you this. I love Veronica.”
“Really. You love the woman who fired you?”
“Yeah. Why’s that difficult to accept? You love Jeremiah Tarantino in spite of the fucked-up things he and his family did to you.”
Waverly sighed. “Fair enough. Just let me say something. Last summer, when you and I needed an ally, we helped each other out. But none of that will matter if you hurt my sister.”
“Fair enough,” he said stoically, echoing her words. Once she started walking in the direction from which she’d come, Simon took off for the administration complex.
He arrived on the ninth floor to find Veronica’s office door shut and her assistant’s open. Heather greeted him with a smile. “Veronica hasn’t come back up here yet, but I’m expecting her to any minute.”
“I can wait out here.”
“Better idea,” she countered, scurrying around her desk, across the corridor, and to Veronica’s office. The door was unlocked and she gestured for him to enter. “Wait in here. Tell Veronica that I’m taking a late lunch at the Medici Café. Don’t forget.”
Simon sat in the same striped chair he’d claimed when he first joined Veronica in this space that night in September. A solid five minutes had passed before the door opened and Veronica stepped inside wearing a dress the color of eggplant. The thing shimmied when she moved, calling his attention to her tits and hips.
“Simon.”
“You’re not surprised to see me.”
“I passed Heather in the hall. She said she’d asked you to wait in here.”
“Then she also told you about the Medici Café?”
She shook her head. “What about it?”
“‘Tell Veronica I’m taking a late lunch at the Medici Café. Don’t forget,’” he quoted.
“That place is at the Ritz…in Henderson. It’s a twenty-minute one-way drive in decent traffic. She made herself scarce.”
“Then add her to the list of people who know about us. Add Waverly, too. She all but cornered me and warned me not to hurt you.”
“Sorry. My sisters and I are long overdue for a heart-to-heart.” Veronica locked the door, then crossed the room to him, letting her hands fall to his shoulders. “I’m going to miss seeing you here like this, Simon.”
“Why did you make that announcement? Why are you giving up this career, Veronica?” He took her hands, kissing the backs of each one. “Working for this franchise, working with your family, is important to you.”
“That was before you and I changed. Before love got to us.”
“You wouldn’t give the press my name.”
“It wasn’t the right time.”
“When will it be, Veronica? See where this puts us? This morning all I had to confront was the fact that I’m not free to be with you in private, for the sake of your career and mine. But at least we could still see each other here, as colleagues. Now that you’ve resigned and still want us to be a secret, I lose even that.”
Veronica withdrew her hands from his. “You’re still adjusting to this roster and don’t need the distraction of a scandal. There’s the game on Sunday to think about.”
“Screw the game. That’s not more important than your happiness and how damn happy you make me.” Simon rested his elbows on his thighs, looking up at her. “I don’t want to ease the public into the idea of you and me together. I want to think about how fucking grateful I am that you’re my woman.”
“Simon…” Veronica angled closer, reaching to tunnel her fingers into his hair.
He closed his eyes, savoring her light touch.
“Simon.”
Her voice was close now, her breath teasing his jaw. Turning toward her, he took her mouth with his. God, it had been too long since he’d tasted her, since he’d felt her tongue curl so, so slowly around his.
“Hey,” she said, and he opened his eyes. “Sit back. Your woman wants you to make some room for her.”
He let her perch on his lap with her back against his chest, and being with her like this—body to body—was the only thing he knew with his entire existence was right. “What’s the future look like to you, Veronica?”
He felt her contemplative sigh against his chest, and she said, “The future looks like truth. No secrets. Just us. And love.”
Simon pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Get up. Your man wants to tell you something.”
When she was standing before him, he clasped her hips. The slinky fabric of her dress slid over her skin with ease as he gripped the material and began to pull it upward. Once her thighs were exposed, he leaned forward to dot each one with a kiss. But he kept urging the dress up until he had it bunched beneath her breasts.
Veronica’s fingers trembled as she gathered the fabric to free his hands. Gently, he scraped his fingertips across her thighs, over the lace triangle of her underwear. He curled a finger around the waistband, tugged it taut, then let it snap against her skin.
She moaned, and he grinned. “The future I see looks like home, Veronica,” he murmured, his lips brushing her belly. “The two of us…a baby. I see myself having that kind of life with you.”
“You’d want to be a father?” she whispered.
“To your child. Our child.” Simon kissed her abdomen again, cupping her ass, not caring whether this was the right or wrong time to let her know the commitment he could give her that he’d never wanted to offer anyone else. “I want to be the man who can make you feel good for the rest of your life, Veronica.”
“I’m crying,” she whispered, and he glanced up to see her gray eyes sparkle with tears. “Because I’m so in love with you.”
“Want that kind of future with me?” he asked. “Truth, home, love, a baby? We can have all of that, with some crazy-ass adventures thrown in there.”
“Crazy-ass adventures are a must. Without them, the deal is off,” she said with a teasing laugh. Then, sobering, she let her bunched dress slide down over her hips. “Sunday’s going to come before all of that, Simon.”
“Veronica—”
“This city needs to see you win at home. Get it done.” She kissed him deeply. “Our future’ll still be there after Sunday.”
Simon stood and followed her to the door. Once she unlocked it, he stroked her cheek. “Our future…Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.” Then he opened the door and strode out while he still had the strength to walk away.
◆◆◆
Gossip hung over Veronica the next few days. But as she stood in a silk spaghetti-strapped dress and a long, knotted pearl necklace, ladling punch from a cauldron beneath a canopy of curling orange and black ribbons at Faith House, she felt at peace. Mostly. She might have publicly walked away from her family’s legacy and triggered a national guessing game about just who she was in love with, but she refused to call out Simon when he had a game to win.
Tonight, he was where he belonged: on the field at Villains Stadium.
“This is my kind of scene.”
Surprised, Veronica turned to see her younger sister reaching out for a drink. “A Halloween party for teens?” she said skeptically. “There’s no alcohol in that cup, Aly.”
“A true party girl doesn’t require alcohol to have a good time.” There was that know-it-all smile that was so distinctively Aly. “I said I’d volunteer. Why not start now?”
“It’s Sunday night. You should be at the stadium.”
“Veronica, you should be. It’s the fourth quarter and our boys just scored on a turnover. It could go either way. Win or lose, our quarterback would want to see you on the sidelines.”
Veronica batted away a tangle of ribbons tickling her face. “Aly—”
“Last week, when he was playing, you looked at him on the field like you missed him—like he was a world away. Being in love is the best feeling, and I’m glad you feel that way. So go to your man.”
She looked around. The party was an uproar of pounding music and noise. Some kids were in costumes, but most wore jeans and hoodies. Chaperones lurked like ants at a picnic. “I’ll be back,” Veronica said.
Aly snorted, taking away the ladle. “You’re going to tell the sexiest QB in the NFL that you want to be with him—you won’t be coming back tonight.”
◆◆◆
No time-outs remained. The Villains’ defense had forced the second turnover of the quarter. Chances were this would be the offense’s final possession in the game. In the visitors’ territory, Simon would need to send the ball damn near thirty yards to make a scoring play and create a deficit New York wouldn’t recover from tonight.
Every second counted; every decision mattered. Pivoting, he escaped the clutch of a linebacker and scanned the field for an open man. His cleats gripped the turf, his heart hammered in his chest, a chorus of thousands of screaming voices battered his ears, but his mind was laser-sharp. There, a receiver in silver and red. If the man didn’t break his speed, he’d be in a prime spot in the end zone to capture the ball by the time Simon sent it downfield. It was a risk that would be regarded as stupid as fuck if it didn’t work or ingenious if it did.
The safe move would be to grapple for a few yards and take a slide.
Simon released the ball, throwing long…
And connecting.
Son of a motherfucking bitch, yes!
Chaos draped over the stadium, but all Simon saw were teammates slamming into him for hugs and handshakes.
Then, as players, coaches, media, and security inundated the field, there was Veronica…so fucking beautiful and vulnerable-looking as she moved with purpose to him.
Simon drew off his helmet, and she ran into his arms, colliding her perfume and pearls with his sweat and mud.
The atmosphere on the field shifted as speculation hit the onlookers. In his periphery he saw bright flashes and stunned faces, but his focus was on the woman in his arms.
Simon lifted her against him, off her feet, and Veronica said with a grin, “Lover, take me away from all this.”
“What’d you have in mind?”
“We could start the life we talked about.”
“The one with truth and home and love and a baby?”
“Yes. I want all of it, with you.”
“What about Thanksgiving in Oregon? I’ve got this land…”
“Yes.”
“What about tonight at my place?”
“Are you trying to see how many times you can get me to say yes?”
“People will be talking about you and me all night.” He kissed her in the middle of the field. “I don’t give a fuck. Do you?”
Veronica framed his face with her hands. There was strength beneath the softness. “No. While they’re talking, I’m going to be with you…and in no position to talk.”
◆◆◆
He was invincible—until she became his weakness. Read THE BRAWLER, book three in the END GAME series by Piper Westbrook.
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