“So I wasn’t wrong,” Brody taunted him. “You do love her.”

“Give me a reason to kill you,” Will hissed. “You’ve been a pain in my ass for too long, Brody Janik.”

Brody ignored him, enduring whatever pain Will inflicted and still managing to piss him off. “I picked up some pretty strong vibes that she was hot for you, too. So what did you do to screw it up?”

Will increased the pressure to Brody’s throat, but the idiot didn’t even flinch. “I didn’t do anything,” Will grunted. “She sold me out to her brother, the senator.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Will felt as if his head were going to explode, his skull was throbbing so hard. “Yes, I’m sure, you asshole. She admitted it.”

“Huh.”

That was it. He was going to strangle the little prick. Except the harder he pressed, the more relaxed Brody became.

“Did you ask her why?”

Did he ask her why? Will stepped back in aggravation, nearly tripping over a giant metal maze he’d bought for Owen to play with. Brody didn’t even reach for his neck, simply crossing his arms in front of his chest, tucking his long hands between his armpits. Will leaned his hips against the recliner to keep himself upright.

“I didn’t have to ask her,” he shouted. “She sold me out for money so she could start a new design company.”

“Nah.” Brody shook his head in disbelief. “She didn’t need money that badly. The gown she designed for my sister was worth an easy fifty grand. I tried to pay her several times and she wouldn’t take my money. It’s gotta be something else.”

The burning sensation had returned to Will’s throat, as well as every other part of his body. Brody was talking nonsense. Will really wanted to hit him, but the room was spinning again.

“Dude, maybe you should ask her why she did it. She could have a perfectly logical explanation.”

“I told you why she did it,” Will bit out.

“Your theory doesn’t make sense.” Brody stepped away from the wall. “But I forgot. You’re William the Conqueror. You have ice water running through your veins. You’d rather live your life thinking the whole world is against you. Or keep your teammates at arm’s length. Hell, you’d even rather believe the worst of the only woman who, besides your mother, probably actually loves you. Suit yourself, Connelly. It’s your life.”

He headed for the door.

“Brody,” Will managed to croak out.

Brody stopped in his tracks but didn’t bother to turn around.

“Leave the key,” Will commanded.

“No way, dude. If you pickle yourself silly and die tonight, I want to be able to get your behemoth ass out of here before the stink sets in.”

He closed and locked the door behind him as he left.

Twenty-eight

The small anteroom where Roscoe and Will waited was blessedly quiet. After running the gauntlet of reporters and video cameras staked out in the rotunda and along the marble halls of the Russell Senate Office Building, Will was glad to be able to have a few minutes to catch his breath before the hearing. He leaned his pounding head back against the wall and closed his eyes, while Roscoe stared out the large window overlooking the garden courtyard below them.

“I could get used to working in a place like this,” Roscoe mused. “The history and the architecture of this building can be a little awe-inspiring.” There was a touch of reverence in his voice.

“You’re starting to sound like Gavin.” Will didn’t bother opening his eyes; they still burned from the assault of the strobe flashes on the video cameras. Or maybe it was the aftereffects of the bourbon. Both, most likely. “He’s always waxing on about cornices and fluting and masonry and porticos. Sounds like a woman half the time.”

The chair next to Will creaked as Roscoe eased into it. “I’ll be sure to tell your best friend you called him a girl.”

Will grunted.

“Are you gonna be able to make it through this thing?” Roscoe asked, his tone equal parts concern and annoyance.

“I only have to repeat one line the entire time. A monkey could do it.”

“Yeah, but most monkeys aren’t fighting a colossal hangover. Stupid move on your part.”

“It felt good at the time.”

Roscoe snorted. “It always does.”

The sounds of Roscoe clicking through his messages stirred the quiet of the room. “Uh-oh.”

Will cracked an eyelid. Roscoe was scanning his iPhone.

“Shit! I cannot believe she did this.”

“Your wife posting compromising videos of you on YouTube again?” Will teased.

“Not my wife. Yours.”

That got both of Will’s eyes open. “What?”

Roscoe was scrolling through his phone. “She just released a statement to the press.”

What remained of the previous night’s bourbon rolled through his stomach, cresting in a wave that threatened to spew out of him. What bombshell had she dropped now? Was there any more damage that woman could do to him?

“About?” Will managed to grind out.

“Huh,” Roscoe said as he continued to scroll. “About her new company. Apparently she’s designing baby clothes now.”

Will had to admit the concept made sense. Julianne’s priorities had shifted, and this way she could focus her talents on something that allowed her to include Owen. He quickly snuffed out the burst of pride he felt knowing she’d begun drawing again, though.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Roscoe mumbled.

“What?”

“She’s manufacturing the clothes in a textile factory located just outside Chances Inlet.”

Will felt his weary muscles tense along his spine. “Great. Now I’ve got another reason to avoid that place.” It was ironic that his fake wife had found more acceptance in his hometown than Will ever had.

“That won’t be so easy.” Roscoe looked up from his phone, his eyes shining with what looked like admiration. “She’s named you as the president of the company.”

What? “Can she do that?” Clearly Will had killed a few too many brain cells last night because nothing Roscoe said was making sense.

“Sure she can. It’s her company. She can do whatever she wants.” Roscoe paused, a bemused look on his face. “Only, now it’s your company, so I guess you can give it back to her.”

Why would Julianne do such a thing? Brody’s words filtered back through the haze of the previous evening.

She didn’t need money that badly. She could have a perfectly logical explanation. Did you ask her why?

“Give me that.” He ripped the phone from his agent’s hands and began scrolling through the screen. The mayor of Chances Inlet was singing Will’s praises for being a visionary, persuading Julianne to locate her company in their town. She’d named both his mother and Patricia McAlister as members of the board of directors. And Mrs. Elderhaus! What did his first-grade teacher know about running a company?

“She’s crazy,” Will muttered. “Bat-shit crazy.”

“Skip down to the part about the profits. You’re gonna love that.” Roscoe was definitely amused now.

According to the press release, the profits earned from the company would be used to establish a sports and activities club for youth in Chances Inlet where kids could hang out after school. The Second Chances Center, as Julianne had dubbed it, would also provide academic assistance and job training to the area’s most needy kids. It was visionary, all right. A freaking brilliant way to get back in Will’s good graces. The problem was, he wasn’t buying it. If this was her way of apologizing, it was too little, too late.

“I seriously underestimated your wife’s manipulative skills, Will. I’ve gotta hand it to her, this move trumps our attempt to get public opinion on your side. Not only that, but she’s just proved that she doesn’t need your money. It’s all over the Internet that stores are clamoring for her designs.”

Will wanted to howl with frustration, but the door to the large hearing room opened and his attention immediately focused on Senator Marchione. The buzz from the assembled media reached a crescendo before Julianne’s brother closed the door behind him.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen.”

Will didn’t think he looked sorry at all.

“We’ve had a change in plans for today . . .”

Roscoe shot to his feet, his game face firmly back in place. “Wait just a minute! You can’t change things up without consulting with us. My client is not at your beck and call.”

The senator perched one of his hips on a corner of the desk under the window. “I beg to differ. As a subpoenaed witness, he is at the mercy of the committee’s schedule.” He held a hand out, thwarting Roscoe from interjecting. “But that’s neither here nor there. The fact is the hearing has been canceled. We have no need for your testimony.”

A trace of unease traveled down Will’s spine.

“So all this was for what, then?” Roscoe was working himself into indignant fury.

“To get at the truth, Mr. Mathis. And we’ve done that.”

Will nearly snapped off the wooden arms of the chair in which he sat. He was close behind Roscoe in the anger department. And confused. Where did this all leave him?

The senator made a show of adjusting the sleeves of his suit jacket, prolonging the suspense. “It seems Coach Zevalos has decided to clear his conscience in his last days. He made a full confession to the NFL yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Roscoe nearly shouted as he grabbed for his briefcase. “How come we heard nothing about it?”

Will stood to follow his agent out the door.

“Because it doesn’t impact you or your client.”