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Reckless Love is the second part of The Reckless Duet, a newsletter serial. Reckless Kiss is now available for purchase. Reckless Love will continue to publish each Tuesday.
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Episode 1 | Episode 2 | Episode 3 | Episode 4
“Don’t go,” Leo whispered against my ear. He held me close; his muscles coiled tight and ready to spring into action.
He didn’t want me leaving with my father. I didn’t want to leave with my father. On my top ten list of things I never wanted to do ever again was “Spend time alone with Edmund.” It filled all ten slots.
“It’s fine. I’ll send up a flair if I need help.”
“You better not need help,” he growled. “Or else I’ll have to murder him and then the cops will be involved and we really don’t want that.”
Is it bad that Leo’s threat of murder made me so happy? I hope not because just the words alone made me feel warm and safe and loved. Three things I was quickly becoming terribly addicted to. “There will be no murdering. He’s awful but harmless. I’ll be back soon.”
It was impressive how cool and collected I sounded when we both knew full well I was the exact opposite. I knew what would happen at the end of this conversation. I’d leave feeling drained, upset, and, most likely, so very angry.
Leo kissed me again, holding me just a little bit tighter. “Hurry back.”
I followed Edmund down the darkened hallway that led to his home office. Just like my childhood home, as well as our LA mansion, the London house, the ranch in Montana, the island in the Bahamas, and the Sydney house, this one was equipped with the highest security.
I noted the visible cameras in the hallway (the ones pointed at his office door) and knew there were just as many that were invisible to the eye. Probably hidden inside a light bulb or behind one of the ugly paintings that hung from the walls. Entering the office required a keycard and his handprint.
No retinal scan though, so not nearly as secure as some of his offices. That meant there weren’t as many sensitive documents here.
It also meant I could get back inside easy peasy, should I decide I needed to.
But then again, Edmund knew me well. Perhaps there was more here and he intentionally wanted me to believe his security was lower.
Or maybe I was seriously overthinking things.
It was a hazard I’d run into ever since he purchased the Renegades. There were villains everywhere, crosses and double crosses, agendas, and secret agents. Or not-so-secret agents. Capp and Dixon were killing me. I’d be more upset about their constant presence in my life if I thought they had a clue what was really going on. No, it was private investigators who were the true pain in my ass.
I took a quick inventory of the office as Edmund closed the door. Six television screens on the left wall. Three were off, three were on, displaying data on his different businesses. I was willing to bet the other three were connected to the security feed for the party. On his desk there was a large computer screen, a laptop, and a briefcase. Closed.
“Have a seat.” He walked around me and behind his desk.
“I’ll stand.” When I was a kid I imagined the chairs in my father’s office were outfitted with ejection seats. If you said the wrong thing or didn’t do your job, he shot you out of his office like a missile.
Okay, I still imagined it. And yes, it was one of the reasons I didn’t want to sit. The other being I didn’t like the power dynamic, nor did I want to be comfortable. Comfort led to acceptance. I needed to be observant. Aware.
“Fine, Rosalind. Stand like a Neanderthal.”
I bit back a response that would go over my father’s head. “What do you want?”
I scanned the bookshelves. Mostly empty. One shelf was lined with files, another held photographs of Edmund with famous actors and political dignitaries—because we wouldn’t want anyone to miss how important my father was—while another held Renegades memorabilia. Stuff he’d had as long as I could remember.
I stared at it as my father spoke. “How serious are you and Leo Hancock?”
“Pretty serious.” Dear old Dad didn’t need any more detail than that, nor was he owed an explanation.
“And who else is he dating? Or is it you? How many are in this relationship?”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know, why don’t you ask your private investigators. They should know everything.” Beside the Renegades jersey and photograph was a football signed by every member of the Nashville team. Beside that was a photograph signed by the New York quarterback my father loved.
There wasn’t a single picture of me or my brother. Not even pictures of William with the Renegades.
“I’m asking you.” He began tapping the desk with a pen—a noise designed to draw my attention back to him.
Well fuck him.
“I don’t see why I should answer your question.”
“Jesus, Rosalind. I’m just asking if I have another problem on my hands. Am I going to be cleaning up another scandal? It’s Nashville all over again.”
My gaze snagged on the glittering Super Bowl ring, ignoring Edmund’s attempt to rile me up. This wasn’t Nashville all over again. Not even close. My father still thought the scandal he cleaned up was what happened at The Secret.
And if he truly thought that, then there was no way he had anything to do with what was happening now.
I turned back, fixing my calmest possible stare on the man who I shared some DNA with. “This is nothing like Nashville. I’ve repaid you many times over for my mistake.” It wasn’t the mistake he thought it was. Edmund believed five of his football players were involved in deviant sexual behavior with his daughter. (Those were his words, not mine.) He believed he paid those players off to disappear. He believed he gave hush money to authorities and news organizations to make the scandal disappear. There were pictures of us together at the club. There was video.
I released those photographs and videos on purpose. I needed to cover my tracks when the authorities got entirely too close to discovering my involvement in fixing games.
I destroyed five careers to save myself.
I didn’t completely destroy my father but he lost the Nashville franchise and was banned from football—the sport he loved more than his children—for a decade. It cost him millions. It hurt him.
It was enough. At first I was relieved to escape all of it without going to prison. Later I realized how much damage I’d done. No matter what I did I never quite fixed it all.
“You’ve refilled my bank accounts, Rosalind. There’s a difference.”
Did he hate me? It felt like he hated me. It felt like he’d always hated me. All he really wanted was an heir. He got that with William. I was the mistake. He dismissed my mother and financially provided for me, but he had no use of me until he realized my ability.
“You have your football back. You’re the sole owner of the Renegades.” Not part owner like in Nashville. He should be thrilled.
“And yet,” he snarled, suddenly standing up from the desk, coming at me with alarming speed, “you’re fucking with me again.”
I stumbled backward, my heels betraying me as my ankle rolled. I managed to catch my balance and moved for the door.
“It’s locked, Rosalind.” He dismissed my attempt at escape. “Why? Why are you doing it again? I let you go. It’s what you wanted and honestly I don’t need a whore with my name. Your mother was enough.”
That hurt. It stabbed my chest just like a knife. “I’m not doing anything.” I should understand, but I wasn’t. His train of thought didn’t match mine.
“Like hell you’re not. Ramirez just so happened to drop a touchdown that was in his hands. Covington missed a snap. Do you know how many snaps he’s fumbled in his career? Zero. Not one.”
“Sounds like he was due then.” For some reason I tried the door again. When it didn’t budge I began looking for an alternate way out. Maybe I could get out a window? It was the ground floor. I just needed to get it open and then I could flee.
But what exactly was it I was fleeing from? Edmund wouldn’t hurt me. How would he explain that to the public?
“I don’t fix games.”
He shook his head, almost laughing at me. “I’m not as smart as you but I’m not completely stupid. I know what the rumors were in Nashville, and I’m not talking about your slutty club. Games were being fixed and there’s only one person I know smart enough to do it, one person who also had access to the personnel and files.” He backed me into the bookshelves. “Stop it or I’ll make you stop.”
Intellectually I knew he meant he’d release the photos and videos from ten years ago. He’d threatened it many times over. I’d lose my job. No university would employ me again. My life and my research would disappear.
But with my back against shelves and nowhere else to go, it felt more immediate than that. I swear my father was one movement away from stopping me by killing me.
“I can’t stop what I’m not doing.” I was very careful with my words. The last thing I needed was for Edmund to record me saying I had anything to do with Nashville.
“Who did you work with? You were far too young and naïve to have done it all on your own. I always believed someone in my management team got to you, convinced you to help him. That person is now most likely pretty well placed in the national organization. I’m guessing that’s why you’re doing it again, at such a grand scale. Do you know I’ve been visited by the FBI every fucking day for the last two months?”
“Yes.” Well placed. And the timing . . .
“Yes what?”
“I know you’re being visited. They visit me as well.” I pushed my father out of the way. My brain moved fast as it spun through the data.
Who? Who was doing this? And why. This person chose this time on purpose. It framed my father perfectly.
“If you stopped maybe they’d leave us both alone,” he growled. “They can’t have anything concrete or they’d be arresting us.”
I hated the way he said us. “You’re not hearing me. I’m. Not. Involved.”
But he kept speaking as if I hadn’t said a thing. “I’ll ignore you. I know you don’t need money so I won’t bother offering you any, but I can guarantee that I’ll leave you alone. I’ll never speak to you again. I’ll pretend you never existed.” His voice took on a desperate quality. “Just please, don’t take this from me too.”
“I’m not taking anything from you!” I threw my hands out in desperation that he’d finally hear me. “You’ve taken everything from me. My mother, my childhood, my brother . . . and even after I walked away and built my own damn life . . . you want that too. You’ve concocted this insane story all so you can justify—”
He choked off my last word as he slammed me against the office door, his hands around my throat. “You fucking slut. I heard you like it like this.” I gasped for air that didn’t come. He moved closer until we were nose to nose. “I’ll take it all from you. Your boy toy, your career, everything. I’ll destroy you piece by piece.” He tightened his grip. “Do you like being choked now? Just as fucked up and pathetic as your mother.”
He let me go, stepping back to give me room to gasp for air, then he reached around me and opened the door. “Get out. Fix your shit. Or else the next time we talk it will be you begging me to stop.”
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