Dirty Play (The Ferrari Family Book 1) Page 4

  As soon as I knew all the tables were set, I decided to head outside for a moment to catch my breath. I breathed in through my nose, slowly.

  I exhaled out the mouth, equally slowly.

  I repeated five times.

  I felt a little bit better. But it still felt like there was some underlying stress, something nagging at me that wouldn’t go away. Had I forgotten to do something for this event? That was impossible; I’d triple-checked everything the night before to make sure everything was running properly, and even that was more work than I usually did. Maybe Jordan had sent me some work I needed to do? I checked my email. Nope.

  What…

  Malcolm.

  I sighed. I didn’t want to admit it. I didn’t want to give him any more strength than he already had over me. But it was only a matter of time before he found me; the degree to which he would go to find me and control me would have been astonishing if it weren’t so damn frightening.

  And when that time came, I’d have to fight. And unfortunately, I didn’t mean in the metaphorical sense.

  “Get it together, Izzy,” I said to myself. “You’ve still got to make sure everyone can find everything.”

  And then I put my phone in my pocket and looked up. A man in a 49ers hat and sunglasses was approaching a Tesla. A man that looked very familiar…

  He had his back turned to me, and with his Tesla straight ahead, there was no chance he would just suddenly stop and come back to me. But something about Nick Ferrari made it impossible not to watch him, even when all you’d get was a glimpse of his back and his car.

  And, let’s be honest, he had on jeans tight enough that his ass looked great in them.

  But, as far as I was concerned, I might as well have been looking at 3D porn because there was no way that Nick Ferrari and I could ever be anything in real life other than a business connection of the smallest degree.

  “Hey, there you are.”

  “Jesus!”

  I was starting to think I was getting a little too jumpy for my own good.

  “You OK?” Rachel said as she approached me. “You looked like you were zoning out there for a second.”

  “I…yeah, stressful day,” I said.

  Rachel was like Jordan when it came to knowing about me. She knew that I had some sort of an ugly situation with my child’s father. She knew that it wasn’t a subject I wanted to talk about. But she didn’t know how violent it had become and how much it affected me on a day-to-day basis, and I didn’t feel the need to fill her in.

  “Well, I’ll tell you what: there are worse things to zone out with than the sight of that man,” she said, whistling as Nick got into his Tesla. “Some boys have it all, I swear. Looks, charm, brains, confidence…”

  “He’s just a client; remember that, Rachel.”

  “Me?” she said before bursting into laughter. “Oh, trust me, Izzy, I was around him all morning, and he’s a very nice guy, but he made it easy for me by never expressing any interest.”

  Good.

  I mean…why would I be thinking about that?

  “Maybe you can email him and set up a date,” she said suggestively. “You weren’t around him as much. Maybe you’re something of a mystery to him.”

  “Please,” I said, even though the tone of the word was different in my head than out loud. “That would be so unprofessional.”

  “I mean, yes, but that doesn’t mean we can’t imagine,” she said. “Just think of what a power couple that would be. Izzy Saunders and Nick Ferrari. You two would be the most public non-Hollywood couple ever!”

  That would be the worst thing ever. Malcolm wouldn’t even have to try to stalk me if that happened.

  “There are more important things in life than that,” I said, even though I had to admit there was some appeal behind the idea if not for the whole clingy ex thing. “In any case, let’s go and get the rest of this event taken care of, shall we?”

  “Oh, quite, Miss Saunders.”

  Oh, Rachel. You are too polite for your own good.

  And I might just be too hard-working for my own good.

  * * *

  Six hours later, I felt like I had worked for sixty hours straight.

  But with an empty student union, cleared tables, and open space once more, we had finished our job. My OCD nature could finally drift into a relaxed state. I could breathe as I had outside without having to force the issue.

  I walked back to my car in something of a zombie-like state. It wasn’t even that I could understand I was tired; it was like my mind, upon trying to boot up “thoughts,” simply drew a blank. It knew how to act, and it knew what to do next, but it couldn’t process those actions in terms of conceptualized thoughts. I turned on my car, punched in the directions for the office, and drove back in the most blank-slate way possible.

  The traffic was beginning to show early signs of rush hour, though the worst had not yet hit. The sun was shining through, so much so that I had to put on sunglasses. Rachel sat to my right, but she had the advantage of not having to drive; as a result, she fell asleep for a quick nap en route to the office. I would have envied her, but I didn’t have the energy to summon that envy.

  When we pulled up to the office, I had to shake Rachel awake.

  “Just go in, give an update to Jordan, and tell her you’ll be working from home the rest of the day,” I said. “She’ll get it. She won’t expect you to work again today.”

  “Mmm,” Rachel said, barely stirring up.

  She looked like a teenager who had been woken at six a.m. on a Saturday, groggily moving out of the car and into the office. I stayed behind just a few minutes to see if I had any urgent emails that needed checking.

  I did not, but there was one that caught me by surprise—a notification that I’d had a drop-off to my office a few hours ago. Such notifications were automatic, so in one sense, it wasn’t cause for alarm, but I always knew when to expect packages and what they would be. Either I was more tired than I had thought, or this one had truly slipped by me without me realizing it.

  Nevertheless, I just figured I’d forgotten that I’d had something for Ryan shipped to my office or maybe something small, like office supplies, sent my way, and so I deleted the email and headed inside. I got up to the floor of my office when I saw Jordan and Rachel talking…and Rachel suddenly looked a lot more awake than before.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Did you know—” Rachel began, but Jordan cut her off.

  “There’s a surprise for you in your office,” she said. “I…I’m very curious to see what you think.”

  “OK,” I said, a little nervous. The element of surprise wasn’t quite the gift that it had been when surprise parties were the norm in high school and college. “Do you know what the surprise is?”

  “Oh, it’s not from any of us,” she said. “You’ll see. But let us know what else there is.”

  Now I was just damn confused. I could see what it was, but there was more? I just shook my head and moved past the two girls to my open office door.

  I gasped when I turned the corner.

  A dozen roses were placed inside a pristine, beautiful vase, with a small card in a purple envelope at its base. I immediately knew such a thing had not come from Malcolm, for he was manipulative but not exactly romantic. I couldn’t ever recall him having gotten me chocolate, and he had never gotten me flowers.

  My gut told me who it could be, but that was just a ridiculous thought, the inner thirteen-year-old trying to squeal with delight at a fairy tale story come true. But most likely, it was one of the guys I’d met online in the past few months who thought a dramatic gesture might somehow win me over.

  Still, I figured I might as well indulge in this game. I shut the door behind me, went to the table, and opened the envelope carefully. Inside was a card that was surprisingly plain for the elegance of the presentation, as if someone had decided to make something quickly and had not had time to go shopping for a more pristine card.


  “Izzy, the minute I laid eyes on you, you had my curiosity. I cannot let this curiosity go without learning more about you. I have booked reservations for eight p.m. this Saturday night at Voltaire’s Steakhouse. I hope to see you there.”

  There was no signature. The words were typed out, making it impossible to distinguish who had written them, even though my gut told me who it was over and over. And…

  Voltaire’s Steakhouse? As in, the Voltaire’s Steakhouse in downtown Sacramento?

  That couldn’t have possibly been true. It couldn’t have been real. To be honest, my general sentiment was one of being a little freaked out. Surprises like this didn’t go well for me. What, the single mother of one was supposed to accept an invitation to a blind date that was offered through a typed letter and an anonymous bouquet?

  Everything about this screamed trouble. Everything, that was, except for the hopeful voice in my head that had somehow found the stamina to come back after the utterly exhausting day. All it took was one of the most surreal, unexpected moments of my life for that voice to regain its footing because it sure wasn’t coming back “into the office” before this.

  I put the card down and went to the window, looking out over an office complex just a bit southwest of California’s capital. The “early leavers” had already begun clocking out and heading to their vehicles. The restaurants and bars were beginning to buzz a little bit, and the general sense was of a complex shifting from “grinding” to “relaxing.”

  But how could one relax when one could either have the best chance ever Saturday or the worst, and there were no clues which way it was going to go?

  I put the flowers in the corner of my office closest to the door’s hinges, making it more difficult for people to see them, and stuffed the card in one of my desk cabinets. I gathered my things and decided I would just play it off if Jordan or Rachel were still there.

  I opened the door, saw them both standing mere feet away, and knew immediately that the ideal escape was not going to be the actual escape.

  “So?” Rachel asked.

  “So, what?” I said in my last-ditch attempt to escape without having the gossip train follow me.

  “Who sent it? What is it?”

  I could tell Jordan wanted to keep it light but was willing to move on if she felt I was becoming stressed by it. I could see that Rachel didn’t mean any harm.

  “It’s an invite to dinner, but… I don’t know, got any thoughts?” I said with a weary smile.

  “Maybe it’s Brad from downstairs. I think he’s always had an eye for you,” Rachel said. “Or, oh, it could be Tyler. Really nice dude; he’d do something like this. Or…”

  Rachel kept spouting off a few names before Jordan finally cut her off.

  “Are you going to accept the invite?”

  She wasn’t asking for the sake of gossip, I could tell.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “What do you think?”

  Jordan gave that parental, loving smile that made me feel so at ease whenever I was around her. I swore that if it weren’t for my actual mother being alive, I could probably confide in Jordan’s presence more than anyone else.

  “Anyone who is willing to put a specific time for Voltaire’s is not someone who would suggest something they can’t follow through on,” she said. “It’s a very popular place, so you’re not going to be walking into the parking lot of some poorly lit McDonald’s. But I understand why you would be hesitant. If you go, make sure you tell one of us or one of your friends.”

  I nodded. An awkward silence fell. I think Jordan and I wanted the group to disperse but didn’t want to be rude about it, while Rachel couldn’t help her insatiable curiosity to know more about who it might be.

  Eventually, I just said thanks and kept walking away, feeling I was the only person who could end the impromptu meeting. I had to admit, as I left the building, I felt like I wouldn’t show up to the steakhouse on Saturday. Surprises, like I said, had never gone well for me, and though this might have been a more established surprise than something home-made or basic, it still was a surprise.

  But, on the other hand…life had become awfully monotonous and, at times, quite stressful being a single mother. I had only had but one man that I went beyond the first date with, and even he was cut off after the second date. Maybe I could use a little spark in my life, a little unexpected thrill that would supply me with a story to last for a while.

  And who knew? Maybe, just maybe, I could learn to let a surprise be pleasant for once. And if it was whom my inner teenager wanted it to be, if it really was the man that I’d locked eyes with earlier in the day…

  Fuck it. I’ll go.

  But be ready to walk away at a moment’s notice. If the past is indicative of the future, then you don’t exactly have the most promising prospects to look forward to.

  Chapter 5: Nick

  Saturday

  “Boy, you keep cranking them out of the park like that in the real game, and you’ll be buying us all dinner with that cash.”

  I looked in the direction of my teammate and best friend, Marcus. A big black guy from the deepest parts of Alabama, the two of us could not have come from more different backgrounds, and yet we could chill and hang on the diamond like twins.

  “That’s up to my agent,” I said, a line I had often repeated to the media whenever my contract status got brought up.

  “Man, quit bullshitting,” he said with a laugh. “I know that wine money has you rich, but there is not a man in America that would not take a raise five times his current income.”

  I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. I’d seen the reports online and the rumors suggesting how much my next contract would be worth, reports that I genuinely tried to tune out. I really did leave it up to my agent with no parameters other than keeping me in San Francisco—I was not leaving the rest of the Ferrari family, even if it meant turning down tens of millions of dollars. I was able to keep my focus on the diamond.

  That was, when I wasn’t thinking about Izzy Saunders.

  I hadn’t told Marcus yet, but that’s because the second I did, the entire locker room would know about it, and I’d suddenly have “surprise flowers” at my locker. If not for the constant stream of cameras in the locker room, I’d be laughing right there with them, but privacy was difficult enough to come by as it was.

  But just because I hadn’t told my best friend didn’t mean that she didn’t crowd my mind a ridiculous amount. I almost felt like a teenager all over again, fantasizing about my crush, unable to focus except for short spurts on my work. “Izzy” was not so much a name as a buzzword that would instantly jolt me out of whatever it was I was doing.

  I didn’t know why this was happening. It wasn’t like I hadn’t met women who looked very much like her. I just had never met someone who looked exactly like her and carried herself like she did.

  Really, I was just damn glad this was happening before spring training and not in the middle of an October playoff run.

  “I guess so,” I said, trying to get myself back on Marcus’ topic.

  “You guess so; shit, you are fucking crazy,” he said. “If I had your production and your hype right now, I’d be barging into the GM’s office and telling him I’m holding out until I get that money.”

  I laughed.

  “Anyway, what you getting into tonight? Might be one of the last weekends we can go out on before the season kicks in!”

  “I know, I know, but I’m taken for tonight,” I said, even though I had no confirmation whatsoever that that was true. “I’ve got a date at eight.”

  “A date? With who? And where at?”

  I laughed. How did I explain that I didn’t know anything about the girl other than what I had found online and what her name was, that I had never talked to her in-person, all without sounding like I secretly wanted to do something awful?

  “It’s this girl I met at a recent speaking event,” I said, which was about as close as I could come to bein
g truthful without making myself look bad. “Real fiery type, I think.”

  Marcus came over to me, put a hand on my shoulder, and squeezed with a deep sigh.

  “Brother,” he said as if giving a eulogy. “You are the face of this franchise, have a mug that would make Tom Brady jealous, have more money than this entire state…and you’re gonna limit yourself to one woman? What in the fuck are you even thinking? You must not be; did you get beaned in the head by a rogue machine? Shit, man!”

  I laughed, but his thought process wasn’t uncommon in the locker room. It wasn’t even that uncommon for me from time to time, especially in the middle of the season when the idea of committing more than twenty minutes a night to a woman seemed impossible. About the only thing that had made me desire having just one woman was the influence of my family.

  My family, after all, had made it abundantly clear that while Ferrari Wines was happy to employ us, we would have to prove that we had value. We wouldn’t just get hired because of our last names; all of us grandkids had to make something of ourselves. And so far, three of the four of us had.

  “I know, I know,” I said, putting my arm around him and leading him to the locker room, an excuse to change for the rest of the day. “But trust me, I’m not stupid. Who knows; maybe it’ll make me more marketable?”

  I wasn’t thinking about that at all. But it seemed to placate Marcus, and our conversation soon shifted to more sports-related talk and less date talk. For now, at least, the locker room was a refuge against some of the crazier questions that were sure to follow.