Here we are now, at the beginning of the preseason, and the big kickoff party at Mack’s house is already starting.
But Mack is here, walking back and forth down the hall, unable to bear the weight of what we’re doing. I don’t want this any more than he does, and now the shame is weighing on me most heavily.
He turns to look at me, and I’m struck by the trouble in his eyes. Something in my chest tightens, and my stomach threatens to drop out of my body. I can’t deny how this man makes me feel, and I can’t leave him now.
He frowns in my direction and goes back to pacing. “I’ll do anything to get out of this, Renata. But it seems like they’ve got us.” His fists are already clenched, and he’s pacing. I’m clutching a cup of coffee hard and watching him as he goes. He’s angry—and I don’t blame him. I’ve never gone against my instincts before, but this time, I sure as hell did.
He clouded my judgment.
Kinley Edwards seemed like the perfect solution, and it seems she’s been slowly leaking things to the press about her suspicions regarding Macklin—and the press loves anything to do with Macklin Pride. When I started messing around with this client, I didn’t count on the hunger of the media. It’s been a long time since I’ve dealt with a true bad boy—and it seems that, in the NFL, Mack has the reputation for being the baddest boy of all.
“I know, Mack. I did it to you.” I slide down into the dining room chair, my body crumpling with shame. I look over at the house where Mack lives, the house that I wanted, the one I imagined with him. There’s a girl inside that house who’s more than a girl—she’s manipulative, she’s reckless, and she’s caught in a whirlwind of power she doesn’t fully understand. She’s drunk on it—the power of being famous, of having a famous fiancé, of having the power to tell him he’ll need to marry her or else.
Mack slows down and then comes to sit next to me on the couch, taking my hands in his. I almost recoil, thinking that Kinley probably has someone watching us, watching Mack’s every move. But I let the comfort of this small touch take me over, knowing that this magic time between me and Mack may soon fade out into eternity.
“I was the one who fucked up bad enough that we needed a supremely quick fix. I was about to lose my job that week, and you knew the way to make it better.” He shrugs helplessly, and a wave of warmth comes over me. The things I feel for him are rooted so deep that there’s no way I could escape them, not really. When I first came out here, I had myself convinced that I was over him—for the most part, I thought I was. Sitting here, my hands in his, I can see that’s not true.
“And I was the one who told you to do it. I was the one who picked Kinley, and I knew she had some kind of connection with Eddie. I just didn’t know what she’d be like when it came down to the wire.” I tap my nails against the coffee cup. I had them painted bright red two days ago, on a whim. It seemed like the thing to do, as a wanton woman sneaking around behind a young woman’s back—an evil young woman’s back, but behind her back nonetheless. Behind everybody’s back. “She’s got Eddie on board with her little schemes, and he tells me he’ll get you fired if you don’t keep on with this engagement.”
Judgment—clouded.
“Goddammit all to hell. I’m done with his threats. And hers too, while we’re at it. There’s got to be some solution we haven’t thought of.” The severe, Roman lines of his face harden into a mask of anger. “I can quit my job. I can leave the NFL before anyone ever knows about this. I want to be with you, and only you. You’re the only thing that’s important right now. The only thing I want.”
Mack's words ring in my ears. Did he just say what I think he said? Did he just say the one thing I've been wanting him to say for all these years, even as I denied it, even to myself? That he wants me above all else - above his career, above all the other women, all the perks of being a famous football player? Part of me - a big part of me - wants to nestle into his arms and agree to his plan. But I can't do that. I came out here to do a job. And it wasn't getting Macklin Pride to quit the career he loves. Not to mention the fact that I'm still skittish, stung by a past neither of us have ever been able to get beyond.
“I don’t know if you’ll be saying that when Kinley throws her tantrum and gets her way. She’s the most dangerous kind of woman. Privileged. Scorned and rejected. And she enjoys playing the victim. There’s no one the media loves more than that type of girl. They see her as innocent and powerless—and when she’s officially jilted and you leave the NFL, there won’t be another job or another fancy life lined up for you after it all ends.” I lower my head into my hands, head starting to pulse just slightly, a cloudy pain forming behind my eyes. I fear the end coming, the end of whatever this is. I might as well say goodbye to Mack now, even though there are many things left unsaid, secrets left unspoken, layers hidden beneath his surface. So many people might think that there’s not much hidden beneath the façade of a masculine, muscular linebacker. But with Mack, there have always been hidden depths. If I’d thought of that when he left instead of being blinded by pain, maybe I would have gone to him then. And maybe we wouldn’t be sitting here right now.