Page 278 of Filthy Truth


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“You settled on next season’s purchases?”

“In the process of doing so. We need to attract mid-level names from the upper leagues of the sport over in Europe. It’s hard when the team is worth shit.”

“It’s doing better now,” she argued.

“Yeah, but not Real Madrid or Paris St. Germain good.” I hitched a shoulder. “It’s a work in progress. Speaking of, I was thinking about inviting the Kensington FC chairman to your gala.”

“Why?”

“Alain Brentner has a good striker we want to buy but he’s holding out.”

“So?”

“So, he’s the son of Juniper Brentner, which will bring a nice glossy sheen to the event, because she’s still a Hollywood A-lister, and I’d like to lean on him.”

“Lean on him. Ha. Rachel will kill you if you commit a crime at her prissy gala.”

“I’m not scared of her.”

She smiled. “You’re scared of me though, aren’t you?”

“When you’re armed, yes.” I grinned at her. “But you’re not armed around the house.”

“A pencil can be deadly in the wrong hands. This you know.”

“Yeah, but you’re not going to stab me with a pencil.”

“No, I don’t need to. With the amount of apple pie you eat, you’ll give yourself cyanide poisoning.”

“That’s if you crush apple seeds. I don’t eat apple seeds. Just apples.”

“Semantics.”

“Big semantics. Huge ones. So?”

“So?”

“Do you want to invite Alain Brentner to the gala?”

“Translation: Please invite Alain Brentner. What did he do anyway?”

“Insider trading.”

“Got proof?”

“Rock solid.”

“Brentner’s an industrialist too, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. But the insider trading was within Kensington FC.”

She yawned. “Fascinating. I’ll invite him. But you have to blackmail him when I’m there. I’ll need some entertainment. This gala is looking set to be boring as fuck.”

My lips twitched. “Whatever floats your boat.”

Because that had been surprisingly easy to convince her of, I strode over to her desk, moved behind her chair, and rested my hands on her shoulders.

As I rubbed her there, she arched her neck, letting me get deeper into the crevices where the knots in her muscles told a story of their own.

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