Manacled in Monaco (5 page)

“What are your grades like?”

“C’s mostly, D in math. I hate math.”

A carbon copy of Rolan’s youth.

“It’s not my favorite subject, either. I met your mom in detention for not doing my math homework.”

“And she’s such a nerd. She loves math. I hate it when she decides to help me. It’s hours and hours of numbers.”

“So, what do you think about us forming a family? Living together in one house?”

“In Orangeville?” He scrunched up his nose and snorted.

“In Salem. That’s where the football field is.”

“Your own football field.” Tony had turned sideways and their gaze met for a second. “Awesome.”

“It could be yours too.”

“You think Mom might agree?”

“She did, but then she took it back. We had a little quarrel.”

“Oh boy, did she give you the disappointed look?”

“Worse, she yelled.”

“Mom?” His eyebrows flew upward and his mouth dropped open.

A loud growl rumbled around the car’s luxurious leather interior.

“Is that your stomach growling?”

“It’s past snack time. Mom says I have a bottomless pit.”

“Snack time?”

“Yeah, I eat like five times a day. I’m always hungry around four in the afternoon.”

Rolan checked his watch. “Damn!”

His palm thwacked the leather sleeve sheathing the steering wheel. “I have a meeting on the boat at four and it’s ten to now. Hold onto your seat, son. We’re taking this baby full throttle.”

“Yes,” Tony exclaimed, and he yanked his elbow down, fist pumping in his excitement.

It took less than twenty minutes to reach the yacht and he pushed the most expensive sports car on the planet to its limit. Rolan had asked the young Internet billionaire who’d recently bought the Patriots for an initial meeting before the rest of the team descended on the docks. He checked his watch; almost twenty-five minutes late and he hadn’t had time to prepare Sarita.

Austen met him before his foot hit the teak deck. “One Suresh Singh’s on board. Says he has a meeting with you. Seems the impatient type.”

“Where is he?”

“Sarita’s serving him canapés on the front deck. Captain wants to know if we’re taking the
Glory
out and where to head?”

“Yes. That little Italian bay, the private one.”

“Aye, aye.” Austen tipped a salute.

He found Sarita and Suresh engaged in an animated conversation. She wore a black tank top, which caressed each plump globe and showed more cleavage than he liked. Black stretchy jeans hugged her luscious ass, and when she bent over a tray laden with decorative miniature pastries, the seam of her pants separated those heart-shaped cheeks. His fingers curled into stinging palms and he took a deep breath, struggling to suppress the unprecedented surge of jealous rage bristling up his spine.

“Suresh,” he said, striding forward, one hand outstretched. “Welcome aboard. Sorry I’m late.”

“Not to worry, Sarita’s been feeding me delicious pastries. I’ve never had better food. I’ll be honest, I’ve been trying to tempt her into working for me, but so far she’s resisting. You’re an artist, Sarita. I’ve never had better vegetarian cooking.”

“Thank you, Suresh. It’s a pleasure to cook for someone who really appreciates good food. I know you eat mercury-free fish, and I found a wonderful striped sea bream at the fishmonger’s. I’m grilling it whole and stuffing it with a curried crabmeat risotto, accompanied by fresh baby green peas. Will you try sea cucumber? It’s the texture of crisp zucchini, and has the nutty aftertaste of arugula with that peppery after bite.”

Rolan’s throat convulsed. A meat and potatoes man, he ate fish as little as possible.

Suresh’s onyx eyes glazed over.

“I put myself in your capable hands, Sarita. And I’ll pay you ten times what Paxton is if you decide to switch positions. All the perks, free health care, whatever you want.”

“You’re a nice guy, Suresh, and the offer’s tempting, but my situation’s a little complicated right now. I need to sort some things out before I could even consider jumping ship.” She picked up the half-empty tray and flashed the Internet wunderkind a sad little smile. “The sea cucumber will be your second course, along with an herbed salad and whole roasted garlic cloves. Then the stuffed sea bream, then a cheese plate, and a coconut-rum cream pie to finish. If you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I have to get to work.”

Rolan debated bringing up the coaching position for ten seconds. He threw the idea overboard when he noticed Suresh’s gaze fastened onto Sarita’s swaying backside.

“I’d like you to meet my son.” Where the hell did that come from? Slicking one hand through hair dampened by sea spray, he clamped his mouth shut, trying to remember his planned strategy.

“I studied your profile and there’s no mention of a son or a wife.” The man’s razor sharp gaze raked him.

“He’s also Sarita’s son.”

Eyes swinging to the doorway through which Sarita had vacated, Suresh squinted, and his chin dipped. “Explains the tension. Are you planning to renew your contract next year?”

Straight to the center of the target, No wonder the young buck had negotiated a billion dollar deal from Microsoft. He’d heard Suresh was Bill Gates’s preferred bridge partner and the tales of his tactical skills approached Machiavellian limits.

“I want to retire at the top of my career,” he answered, hedging.

“I figured, once you asked for this meeting. You plan to coach?”

“Hopefully,” he said. “Are you offering something?”

“I’m open to the idea, and I think you’re more than capable of coaching. But you have to take us to the Super Bowl this year and win, of course. Do that and you can name your deal.”

“No other conditions?”

“Rizzo’s primed to take your spot. I told the general manager to give him equal time this season. If we have only nine months to prepare him, you’ll have to go that extra mile. I’ve heard you two aren’t exactly bosom buddies.”

“I’m a professional. Emotions don’t come into play.”

“I plan to be a hands-on owner, Rolan. While I won’t get involved with plays and the details on the field, I will review games and offer advice. I’m five years your junior, Iis that going to be a problem?”

“No. What are your plans for the next two weeks before training begins?”

“Press conference the day before the first exhibition game against the Bears. Ticket sales are down all across the nation. Even with three Super Bowl wins, we’ll have trouble filling home games, especially with the threat of a recession looming. I’m not in this only for the glory. The team has to be profitable.”

Austen’s broad shoulders appeared in the doorway. “Boss, Sarita says the second course is ready. She wants you two on the upper deck at that outside table.”

“Set a place for Tony,” Rolan ordered. “Our son,” he added at Suresh’s raised eyebrow.

“She’s chosen all the wines for the meal, and asked me to mention all are organic and pesticide free,” Austen said. “If you’ll follow me, gentlemen?”

“You’re a lucky son of a bitch, Paxton. That is one fine woman.”

“I know.”

And the words rang true. On each anniversary of prom over the last ten years, he’d woken up with the memory of that night filling his mind. He’d been wild for Sarita, had sought to re-create that feeling with one starlet after another, and it had happened in less than ten minutes on the
Glory
deck.

They made their way to the upper level and found a round glass topped table laid with fine china, sterling silver cutlery, and sparkling crystal glasses. A tiny bulb-shaped vase held the requisite orchid arrangement spidered with pointy green ferns.

A cooling gust dissipated the Mediterranean warmth and fluttered the white napkins folded in three exact triangles, the apex a precise point. He imagined Sarita’s slender fingers shaping the material just so and he remembered how hedonistic they looked curled around his prick.

Tony skidded onto the balcony and braked seconds before bumping into Rolan.

“Austen said I’m having lunch with you?” He darted a puzzled look at Suresh and cocked his head to the right. “I know you. Hey, you’re that guy, the one who created the first version of
Halo
. Why’re you having lunch with my dad?”

“He’s the team’s owner, Tony. My boss.”

“Wow! How old are you?”

“Almost old enough to be your father,” Suresh said, and he chuckled. “You are the image of your dad. Did you inherit his talent?”

And Rolan got a kick out of the cocky posture Tony assumed, shoulders squared, thumbs thrust into the front pockets of his dark denim jeans.

“You bet, but I’m a quarterback. I have a great arm.”

Rolan heard Sarita before she stepped onto the deck, and the shock on her face when she spotted Tony had him rethinking extending the lunch invitation to his son.

“Go to your room, son,” Sarita ordered in that military commander’s clip.

Rolan winced.

Her voice steel laced, she shot Rolan a glare.

He almost flinched. “I asked him to have lunch with us, Sarita. I wanted Suresh to meet him.”

“Mom, can’t you for once make a sloppy joe or a plain old cheeseburger? What’s that stuff?”

“It’s good for you. I’ll fix another plate for you Anthony. Fish fingers and French fries. Mr. Singh doesn’t consume either meat or poultry, but he eats fish. He’s what’s termed a pescatarian.”

Rolan glanced at Suresh.

Lips curled at the corners, the billionaire’s black eyes focused solely on Sarita, and he nodded in agreement. “Spot on, Sarita. You’ve done your homework.”

“Can I have a grilled cheese sandwich instead? You know I hate fish.” The boy pleaded. He swung to face Suresh. “Cheese is okay, isn’t it? And ketchup’s allowed?”

“Sure. Not a problem. Coke?”

“Cherry Coke,” both Rolan and Sarita answered at the same time. He’d discovered his son’s addiction to the concoction earlier when they stopped at a gas station.

“Excuse me a minute, Suresh. I need to have a quick word with Sarita.” Once she’d deposited the china on the table, Rolan cupped a hand under her elbow.

Shooting him a cutting dart, she firmed her lips, but allowed him to lead her into the small alcove off the deck.

“I’m sorry to spring this meeting on you, I honestly forgot about it what with all that’s happened.” He tunneled one hand through his hair. “My career’s on the line, Sarita, and Suresh holds my contract in his back pocket.”

“Why did you bring Tony into it?”

“Because he’s my son and I’m proud of him. Because I want you to marry me and let me take care of you and Tony. I’ve made it clear from the beginning I want joint custody. ”

“Rolan, you’ve thrown so much at me in just a few hours. I’m still reeling. I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“Tony wants this, Sarita. He wants out of Orangeville. He hates the town. He said he’s not real popular at school. He asked me to go to father and son night.”

Her amber eyes misted, moisture pooling at those slanted corners, and she bit down hard on her lower lip. “It’s been rough on him since Doc Cavanaugh died. And Shannon Cartwright did her best to rile everyone against me before she left. You know how influential her family is. She hates me. Ever since my mother caused that fatal collision and her father died with his hands down my mother’s pants, it’s been nothing but one vindictive campaign after another. I’ve tried to protect Tony, and I managed until his eighth birthday when not one kid from his class showed up for the party. I’d saved for weeks to hold it at Dave and Buster’s.”

“All the more reason I should use my money and influence to make a difference in his life. We’re adults, Sarita, we can sort things out. He’s entering the hardest period of his life. Early adolescence wreaks havoc with a young man’s self-confidence. I know. My parents started that ugly newspaper headlined divorce the day I turned thirteen. Football, being on that field, kept me sane. I see the same qualities in Tony. He’s at a turning point. I changed into a bitter, reclusive teenager during those three years it took the divorce to finalize. Everyone talked about my mother and my father. His bimbo, her toy boy. ”

“I need to think, Rolan. Tony adores you, I can see that. And it’s only been one day. All the newspapers paint you as fickle, never staying with one woman or a commitment for long. I guess I’m worried about how long you’ll stay interested in us.”

“He’s my son, Sarita, my flesh and blood. I’ve spent the afternoon with him and he surprises me at every corner. He’s such a strange mixture of sophistication and little boy insecurity, and he’s more aware than you think. Tony was waiting for me outside the cabin this morning. He told me he wasn’t an idiot and he knew we’d been screwing.”

“What?” Her hand fluttered to her throat. “He said that? He was a latch key kid for six long months. I’ve been worrying about the sex talk. I guess I’ve waited too long.”

“Let me step up to the plate. Take the burden off your shoulders. Let’s make a commitment. To each other, to Tony.”

“I don’t know, Rolan. I’m so confused.”

“Are we okay for a while, at least through this lunch?”

She nodded. “Austen said the whole team’s here for cocktails and canapés around ten tonight. I don’t even have a menu planned. Is Suresh the only pescatarian? I mean you football guys are famous for bloody steaks, aren’t you? Later on, can you give me a quick profile of what to expect? I hate cooking blind.”

“You’re doing an amazing job. Suresh’s eating out of your hands. And he’s a tough cookie.”

“My sea bream’s probably burning. I have to dash.”

“Go. I’ll handle everything topside.”

He stayed tuned and waited for her every appearance. Her features softened over the two-hour meal, and pride had him squared and primed as she explained the wine pairings. Suresh proved an amateur wine connoisseur and he peppered her with questions, asking about the grapes, the regions, while grinning broadly at her answers.

“Paxton, if she doesn’t agree to legalize your relationship soon, I’m in there like a dirty shirt.”

Halfway through the doorway, Sarita halted, turned around, and said, “That’s flattering, Suresh, but Rolan’s my son’s father. I think I have to go with him.”