My (Mostly) Secret Baby - Penelope Bloom Page 0,25

bag I got. Eventually, I found one green Skittle that just wouldn’t break. It tore through everything I threw at it. I became fascinated with trying to crack it. I stopped eating the squished ones and just started getting as many Skittles as I could get my hands on. But it never broke.”

He stopped, as if that was the entire story. “So you were a psychopath when you were a little kid. Is that the moral of the story?”

“No. The moral of the story is that I eventually decided to just eat the green Skittle myself. In the world of Skittles, it was king. But in my world, it was just a snack.”

I frowned at him. “Did you just call me a snack, Mr. Rose?”

If I didn’t know better, I’d say his cheeks took on the faintest shade of red. “I’m…” He swallowed, then waved his hand. “Telling you to get back to work. I expect those figures by tonight. In ascending order. And alphabetized.”

“Your email said descending. And how do I alphabetize a list of numbers, exactly?”

“Do what I say and get back to work, Miss Cross.”

I stood. I was going to kill him. And if he thought he could just squish me until I broke like one of his stupid little Skittles, I’d teach him. And seriously, Skittles? Was a grown ass man really trying to threaten me by comparing me to candy?

11

Damon

I only agreed to represent my brother as his agent when he got drafted into the NFL because I saw the vultures coming for him. All it took was a little research to see how common it was. A young athlete starts earning money, and everyone with even the most remote connection to them comes out of the woodwork to “help.” Uncles, aunts, mothers, and fathers. It was always the same story. Someone with the supposed best interest of the athlete would step in with the goal of extracting as much of their hard-earned money as possible.

Did I profit from my brother’s success? Yes. Greatly. But I made sure nothing I did ever jeopardized his future as an athlete. In fact, one of my biggest overriding goals for Chris was to create a brand for him that would continue to provide him with wealth long after he took his last snap in the NFL. It had been the drive behind my Olympic Games idea five years ago. That had fallen through, but I was still breaking boundaries with my representation of Chris.

When I branched out and started representing more athletes, I initially focused just on the ones I could tell were being preyed on by family members. Maybe you could call it a passion or a cause. Frankly, I didn’t give a shit what you’d call it because I never spoke about it to a living soul. As far as anyone else knew, my solitary motivation for what I did was money, and they were welcome to keep believing that.

Life was easier when people didn’t know the truth.

My company had grown, and I had to make decisions purely for profit more often than not. But I still picked up the occasional stray athlete that baffled my employees. They believed I was operating on some secret knowledge or potential. In reality, I wanted to save them. I saw little pieces of my brother in all of them, and I wanted to help protect them.

The more my business grew and the more financial resources we have, the better I could do that.

It was my secret because it had to be. If word got out that I took on charity cases, I’d never know who really needed help anymore. I’d be flooded by sob stories and pathetic young kids with tears in their eyes.

Even Chris didn’t really know what drove me, and that was the way I wanted it to stay.

Chris slung his phone down on the couch in my office, groaning. “Fuck. I lost myself the playoffs in fantasy. That fumble in the third quarter last night was the deciding factor.”

“You draft yourself on your own fantasy teams? Of course you do.” I set down the stack of papers I was reviewing. It was yet another late night in my office. I had fires to put out, like usual.

I’d grown faster than I could keep up with, which meant hiring employees after my early days with Chris and the first few clients. Then it meant a building. Then an office downtown. Somewhere along the line, it turned into