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“He’s sleeping with Calista Amvehl,” Dodo said.
Calista’s face flushed hot and cold, but as before, she couldn’t make a sound.
All gazes shot between them, bewildered, doubting, confused.
Dodo nodded.
“Is this true?” Judge Johnston asked.
The chill moved into her bones, and Calista didn’t move, too numb over Ronan’s news to truly react to being exposed. Something that on any other day would have deserved a reaction.
Willow snorted out a surprised laugh, which she covered with her palm. “That’s a stretch, Babe, socially awkward and Ronan Stromkin. No one’s going to believe that.”
“Objection.” Olivia leaned forward. “If Dodo lists which dancers he’s slept with, we will allow this line of questioning, otherwise, we’ll move on.”
“Excuse me?” Willow said, her face turning the same red as her suit.
“Hey, now.” Dodo shook his head. “No need to get into private matters. I shouldn’t have said anything. Just thought my men should know, and Captain’s vote should be weighed accordingly.”
Willow stared at Dodo. “What did Olivia mean about the dancers? She’s talking the past, right, like when you were with Dahlia?”
“Not now,” Dodo said.
Willow rose and stomped from the room, leaving silence in her wake.
“It’s true,” Dodo insisted, pointing from Ronan to Calista. “Look at her jersey.”
Calista crossed her arms over her chest.
“You’re just being confrontational, like always,” Dahlia said. “You know Calista took the purity pledge.”
Yep, and then she’d burned it in Ronan’s bed.
“No wedding, no bedding,” Vivien started the chant, but reading the room, she let the words die off without adding another line.
Piper turned to Calista and cupped her mouth. “OMG. We will speak later.”
Mikah straightened. “You know I’ve been staying out of this, but if you continue to throw out lies about my future little sister, we’re going to have a problem. Not only will I be voting Amvehl, bigger than that, I will not re-up if the ruling is Applebaum.”
The men erupted. “No Captain. No Czerski.”
“Let’s calm the temperature.” Judge Johnston’s eyes flashed around the room and slapped his palm on the table. Despite his expression, his voice came out calm and measured. “Twenty-four hours is reasonable. Let’s compose ourselves and re-start tomorrow.” He turned to Calista. “But I do need to understand. Would an Amvehl-run organization approve the Stromkin trade?”
A million emotions spun through her, and Calista still had no words. She looked at Olivia and shook her head no.
“Absolutely not,” Olivia said. “Ronan Stromkin’s contract is not up. We would not approve that no matter what another team offered.”
Judge Johnston nodded slowly and rose. “We reconvene tomorrow.”
* * *
Calista left the hearing, waving off her friends and family. A world of emotions weakened her and she couldn’t even punch the ignition button on her SUV until a project popped into her head offering the respite of a distraction. Clawing onto the idea let her breathe, and she drove to the hardware store. An hour later, she parked in Ronan’s driveway and got out her supplies. She loaded them into the portable wagon and rolled them straight to the front door.
She tapped in the code with forceful fingers, shoved down the knob, and strolled over the threshold. He should have told her he wanted to go back to Washington. That had prodded her the whole drive over. Anger was an easier emotion to handle compared to hurt, so she was riding high on that.
Ronan sat on his couch, his knees spread, his head in his hands. He lifted his gaze, and his mouth gaped. He looked at her with eyes just as cold and angry as her own. “After refusing to release my contract, you just let yourself in?” His voice was hard.
Calista stiffened her spine. “Your entry code is a four-digit number that you type in front of everyone. It’s not a secret.” She knew that wasn’t what he meant, but she was relieved her words came out snippy and strong. Her voice hadn’t cracked and she hadn’t sobbed. She cocked her chin even higher.
