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There were moments when a person no longer had control over their own body, and for me, this was one of them. While I normally reserved bursting into tears for private locations, the elevator doors had barely slid shut before I became the human definition of a torrential downpour.

“Oh, shit.” Alex mumbled at my side, sounding genuinely startled. “I’m so sorry, Alicia. I didn’t bring it up to be insensitive.”

I couldn’t formulate a verbal response, so I just shook my head to let him know that I hadn’t thought that was what he’d done. In fact, I knew he’d brought it up to explain why he’d brought me to a private elevator and was insisting on not having coffee where dozens of other people would’ve had to witness this.

But still.

The sounds coming out of me were awful, sort of like someone was drowning a cat who also had the hiccups, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not stop. Because it was about the house. The house I would have to pack up soon. Parts of it I’d never even touched would have to be boxed up and⁠—

Alex reached over and awkwardly patted my shoulder. “I thought so, but look, I have a proposition to make and I promise, I have both tissues and coffee in my office. Just hear me out. In the meantime, take this.”

He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it over, not saying anything else as we ascended to his office. Stuck inside a private elevator with one of the most powerful men in Chicago, I bawled my eyes out, and even though my heart was already shattered into a million tiny shards, I couldn’t help feeling that he was about to make things much worse.

I would just have to hope that after that, whatever this proposition was, it would also somehow be able to make them better.

CHAPTER 7

HOLDEN

The basketball hit the rim, bounced off the backboard, and came straight back to me. I caught it, took a few steps, and shot again. The swish of the ball flying into the net echoed through the otherwise empty court. I jogged backward to grab another ball, wiping sweat off my brow with my forearm.

It was amazing how, the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. This recreation center had been my refuge once, the only place in the city where no one had cared about my last name or the fact that my dad was just another rich guy who’d stepped out on his wife and allowed his new, young sidepiece to tempt him into screwing over other rich guys.

Now here I was again, so many years later, still finding peace in the same place and trying to drown out the noise in my head about the same issue. I was lining up another shot when the gym doors opened and Alex strode in.

Neither surprised nor enthused about his arrival, I didn’t even have to turn my head all the way to know it was him. “You’re becoming predictable.”

Alex laughed, tossed his gym bag down, and walked onto the court. “Good morning to you, too.”

He picked up a ball from the rack and started dribbling while I went back to shooting. The two of us fell into an easy, familiar rhythm. Back in the day, this had been our thing. I would come home from college and Alex would be there, waiting to shoot hoops with me, or drag me to lunch, or ask annoying questions about classes and whatnot.

It had taken me a while to realize what he’d been doing, but he’d stepped up, stepped in, and filled a space in my life that had been pretty empty—my father’s. It had worked back then, but I was older now. I’d seen more of the world and I’d learned that it wasn’t kind simply because you tried to be good, especially for my family.

For almost half an hour, Alex and I played in complete silence, the only sound our shoes against the hardwood and basketballs hitting the floor. Then Alex caught a rebound and tucked the ball against his hip instead of shooting again.

“Okay, that’s enough. Let’s talk,” he said patiently. “What’s your problem lately, Holden?”

I kept dribbling my ball. “Nothing.”

Alex watched me smack the ball against the floor, sighing when it bounced the wrong way and damn near hit me in the face. “It’s either about Court getting out or that you regret going back to school. Those are the options I’ve narrowed it down to.”

“Aren’t you a genius?”

Instead of taking offense, Alex smirked. “I am, actually, but in this case, I didn’t even really have to apply myself.”

“I’ll try to have more interesting problems in the future.”

“Thank you.” He tossed the ball toward me. “Try for something incredibly intricate and complicated with a lot of moving parts. I like those problems.”

“I’ll do my best.” I shot again but missed. Because why not lose almost every degree of skill I’ve ever possessed for this game on top of everything else?

Alex retrieved the ball but didn’t pass it back. “In the meantime, since those are the problems we’re currently facing, let’s focus on them. How’s school? I know Jane wouldn’t take no for an answer. It’s okay if you’re pissed about it.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine. School is fine, and to save you the trouble of having to think of another clever way to ask, I don’t regret going back, Alex.”

He arched a brow at me. “Are you sure? My wife threatened to rearrange your life unless you agreed. That doesn’t always create positive feelings toward furthering one’s education.”

I snorted. “I don’t need positive feelings, so you can drop your corporate HR speak. Jane didn’t threaten me. She merely strongly implied that I would be wasting my potential if I didn’t do it.”