The Penalty Box - Teagan Kade Page 0,21

ever did, for both of us, but it came at a cost. All his money and influence, that went by the wayside.”

“How the hell did she afford the Academy?”

“Scholarship,” she replies, trying not to look smug but failing miserably.

“I didn’t think Crestfall offered scholarships.”

“Not officially,” she smiles, tugging me closer, hands around my neck. “But for exceptional players…”

I roll my eyes. “I suppose I can let that slide.”

“If…?”

“If you kiss me.”

She leans forward and wets her lips. “Deal.”

CHAPTER TEN

LINNEA

I wake up a little after sunrise. The blinds are down but even in the semi-light Nolan looks angelic—as much as an angel can inked up and cut to perfection.

And he’s all yours, I think to myself.

It’s an unusual concept. I’ve never had any kind of lasting relationship before. I’m sure if you dig deeper there’s a whole lot of psychological scarring that probably makes me hate all men ra-ra-ra, but Nolan is different. I never expected to fall for him so hard.

But that sudden squirt of dopamine is undercut by what went down yesterday with my father. It’s destroying the moment, tugging me out of the happiness I so need, and damn well deserve, right now.

‘Take action,’ I hear my mother say.

She’s right. I’ve got to get out on the front foot here.

I climb out of bed and dress, silently pad my way downstairs and open one of the French doors leading to the pool outside, the water shimmery and golden from the rising sun.

I sit on the edge of a deck chair and toss my cell in my hand trying to work up a game plan of how this is going to run. I need to find out what my father is up to. That’s the key.

I dial, bring the cell to my ear and wait.

He answers on the second ring. “Linnea.”

“Father,” I reply, doing my best to keep the acid bite out of my voice.

“I hope you’re not upset about yesterday.”

“I should press charges.”

I picture him smiling. “My men are well trained. I can’t imagine anyone saw you being—” he chooses his words “—taxied here.”

I laugh, shaking my head at how ridiculous he sounds. “Your men missed the cell phone in my pocket. You’re over there acting like Tony Montana but you can’t even get the basics right.”

“Getting your boyfriend and his ape brothers to show up was a bold move, I’ll allow you that. Perhaps you haven’t fallen as far from the tree as I thought.”

God, he wants me want to throw up.

“Perhaps,” I counter, “you can start by telling me what the hell it is you want, because I sure don’t think you dragged me all that way to say hi. Spill it. What’s your play?”

“Hmm,” he muses, thinking it over. “All right. I need to secure a merger and let’s just say neither myself nor my counterpart are big on trust.”

I can’t quite fill it in yet. “And? How do I fit into any of this?”

“I need you to marry his son—a mutual insurance policy so we won’t screw each other over.”

Now it makes sense. Harry Brenton, the son, and the father, Ben Brenton, I recall.

“You should have skipped straight to the screwing-each-other part,” I say. “Save everyone the trouble because it is not happening. You’d have to cut my fucking finger off before I let you put a ring on it.”

A sigh of frustration. “That dirty mouth of yours is unbecoming, Linnea. Your mother knew that all too well.

He’s baiting me. “Leave her out of this.”

“You could do far worse than Harry Brenton, Linnea. You’d never want for a thing.”

“He didn’t exactly seem head-over-heels for me.”

“He’s willing to sacrifice his personal happiness for the greater good of his company and family, as should you.”

Now he’s getting to me. “Can you even hear yourself? I’m not a pawn or an object or part of your stupid corporate games and I never will be. I want no part of it, or this—anything to do with you.”

He’s not giving up. “Think about it, Linnea. The marriage is in your best interests.”

“Merger,” I correct.

“Semantics. What else are you going to do with your life? Pretend you’re a sports star, wind up in some back-alley school teaching whining brats to dribble?”

Enough. “The answer is no, not in a million years,” I tell him. “Stay out of my life.”

I hang up and place the cell down, looking out over the pool.

There’s a certain sense of satisfaction to be found in standing up to a man like Rex Marsden, but I worry