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I barely know my mother. I grew up going to boarding schools and while I was home in the summer, I was raised by nannies. My presence was required for public events, but other than that, we lived completely separate lives.
The same goes for my relationship with my father, and when he died, I didn’t even cry at his funeral. It would’ve felt like crying at a stranger’s funeral.
That’s probably why Connor always called me cold.
My mother married Dean’s father after that. He was my father’s business partner, so it made sense, from a monetary standpoint, that they marry.
My engagement to Connor was for the sake of business as well. Dean wasn’t going to take over the family business, so it was my responsibility to marry someone who would.
It’s all business moves.
However, my marriage to Isaiah Rhodes is most definitely not a business move.
And there’s a part of me, even though I know it was a mistake, that loves that small act of rebellion.
While yes, Connor and I were set up by our parents, it was still eight years of my life, and it hurt my pride when he ended things.
He was vocal that the split was my fault. I wasn’t around. I lived in Chicago when he and my parents were based in New York. I traveled for my job. I’d barely touch him when we were in the same city. The list of my issues is much longer than that, but that’s the gist of what he mentioned during our breakup.
But now that I’ve had some time to process, the realization has finally sunk in that I’m no longer bound by some kind of familial duty. I get to marry whomever I want. I get to date. I get to be a normal woman in her thirties.
I just have to get this pesky little annulment out of the way first.
My phone vibrates on the counter, this time with an unknown Chicago phone number. The family lawyer is flying in from New York, so I assume this is him using a local office.
“Paul?” I ask as soon as I answer.
“Umm...” The woman on the other end hesitates. “No, this is Denise. Mr. Remington’s assistant.”
Mr. Remington. Archer Remington. The owner of the Windy City Warriors.
“He’s requesting a meeting with you.”
Fuck.
I want to tell myself that maybe it’s not a bad thing. Maybe he’s meeting with his entire staff before the season starts. Maybe it has nothing to do with the fact that I broke company policy by not only fraternizing with one of the players, but marrying his shortstop.
But in my gut, I know that I’m entirely fucked.
I swallow. “Okay. I can do that. Would tomorrow work for him?”
“He needs to see you immediately.”
“Today?”
“In one hour. He’ll be meeting with both you and Mr. Rhodes at the same time.”
And there it is.
I’m fired. I’m done.
But how the hell did he find out?
None of the guys from the team seem to be the type to tattle even if Isaiah did decide to open his big mouth and spill the beans.
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“See you soon, Ms. Ka—” Denise clears her throat. “Mrs. Rhodes.”
