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“No, I’m here because she lost her job.”
He shakes his head with a defiant smirk on his stupid face. “You can’t get her back without it. And you know it. She’s a hard woman to love. Take it from me, Duke. You’re better off letting her go.”
“No, I’m not,” I challenge, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m not giving up on Lila.”
He tips his glass to me and grins.
“Which cheerleader do you want?”
“There’s a blonde with a blue butterfly on her right shoulder blade.”
“She has a matching butterfly on her inner thigh,” I say, not proud of the fact I know this bit of information. “Her name is Alessandra.”
He rubs his hands together. “What’s she like?”
“She’s a gymnast. And a dancer. You do the math.”
“I want you to make an introduction. That’s my deal. And if she agrees to go out with me, I’ll have Senator Banks make a call to the owner. They’re old golf buddies.”
“You could’ve done this for Lila two weeks ago,” I snap, my anger seething through me.
“Nothing in life is free, Duke.” He reaches into a wooden box on the table and retrieves a cigar, stuffing it between his teeth as he looks for a lighter. “And I don’t do anything without getting something in return.”
“I can’t guarantee Alessandra will fuck you.”
She probably will.
Alessandra spreads her legs for any man with money. Ted isn’t a bad looking guy. He’s well-spoken, dresses nice, and has an Ivy League education. He won’t have to do more than flash his checkbook and smile to get her bed. I did neither and still found her spread eagle, waiting for me in the locker room one night long after the game ended.
I can’t believe this is the deal I have to make with this asshole. If I had any say in the matter, I’d take Lila and Max far away from him. They don’t need a man like him in their lives.
“Tomorrow night,” Ted says, blowing a plume of cigar smoke in my face. “You have a few more games before you’re back on the ice. Sit with me. Make the introductions. And if all goes well, Lila will have her contract back by the end of the week.”
“I don’t like this,” I say, rising from the chair. “If it weren’t for Lila, I would never agree to this deal.”
He opens his mouth, and smoke fills the space between us. I wave the cloud away from my face.
“We could be good friends, you know.”
I laugh at his comment. “No, I don’t think we could be.”
“This is business,” Ted says. “Lighten up, Duke. I thought this would be an easy proposition for you.”
“If you ever want us to be friends, you could do this favor for me. You’re going to see a lot more of me after I get Lila back.”
“So, confident,” he says in a cocky tone. “Okay, fine. I’ll make you a new deal. Come with me to the game tomorrow night. I want a private box to ourselves, top-shelf everything, and signed merch from the team.”
He strolls over to me, clutching the towel with one hand, holding the cigar in the other. Only an asshole of his magnitude would carry on a full conversation in a towel. Seriously, what did Lila see in him? I don’t get it.
“I won’t make fucking Alessandra part of the deal,” Ted says, blowing smoke in my face. “But, I want to meet her.”
My stomach stops doing backflips. At least now I can go home feeling like less of an asshole for making a deal with the devil.
“I’ll send a car for you around five,” he says as I turn my back to him. “Dinner at Plume, my treat.”
I raise my hand above my head in agreement and get the fuck out of his house.
Chapter Twenty-Four
DELILAH
I lucked out and managed to keep my other contracts. Since there was no proof I violated any other ethics clauses, I still have the rest of my patients. At least I’m not jobless. But now, Max hates me for taking away the one thing she loves most.
“I want my iPad back,” Max shouts, getting into my face on the couch. “You said I could have it back. That was weeks ago.”
“I don’t want you online, Max. It’s for your own good.”
She swings another couch pillow and smacks me on the side of the head. “Why are you punishing me?”
“Max, knock it off.” I remove all of the pillows from the couch. “We’ve gone over this already. I don’t want you to get upset over nothing.”
“You’re the one who messed up,” she says at the top of her lungs. “Not me.”
“Okay,” I groan. “You can have the iPad if you promise not to Google Duke or me. No more videos or GIFs, okay? Stick to YouTube Kids.”
“Fine.”
“You have to pinky swear.”
