15. Liam

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

liam

At my request, Mia arranges for the physiotherapist, April, Max, his agent, and Coach Harris to convene in the meeting room next to my office. I wait for all of them to arrive and take their seats before I join them.

I had to kick Noah out because he couldn't stop laughing after learning April's true identity. I still can't believe or understand how this could've happened, but here I am. Horny as fuck and just as much furious.

"I'm sorry to drag you into yet another meeting," I start, "but I wasn't in the right headspace earlier and missed some critical information I need." I can't help but look at April for a nanosecond as I say it, and it's more than enough to catch her smirk. The nerve on that woman. I shake my head in disbelief. She's actually enjoying this. "I'll get straight to the point and ask what I need to know."

"Ask away, Mr. Gunn" It's April's back that straightens and her voice that fills the room to taunt me. The will to strangle her is strong. The need to have her coming on my cock while I do that is somehow even stronger.

"When can we expect Mr. Sinclair back in the field?"

She and the physio guy look at each other, but the wimp lets her carry on alone.

"As I said earlier," she starts in a passive aggressive tone reserved for those who type ‘as per my previous email'. "I can't pinpoint that. It's not that simple." April has left the building. I'm getting to know Dr. Hadden now. "This is the first time the procedure he's undergone has ever been done. There's no precedent telling us the next steps, so we need to tread a slower but safer route. Everything Max has accomplished so far is amazing." She holds and squeezes the motherfucker's hand as she says it, then lowers her hand back on her lap. When she looks back at me, all the warmth and empathy she showed him are gone.

"He's pain free and walking within weeks of a new and groundbreaking surgery. Knee recovery is a slow process and rushing it is irresponsible. So we keep doing what we've been doing: rehab, light practice and observation."

I speak as soon as she's done. Dr. Hadden talks too much for my liking and limited time.

"So you can't give me a date. Got it. Then give me a ballpark, an estimate, a wild guess. Name it as you wish, doctor. I need to get back to sponsors and investors with something."

"No."

"Excuse me?" I have to hold in a laugh. Dr. Hadden has a backbone like a ramrod and it just makes me want to bend her over my lap. She's small but fierce and that entertains the fuck out of me.

"No, I won't ballpark it," she says as if the word tastes offensive. "I won't commit to anything that might be to Max's disadvantage just so you can keep investors happy. You're worried about making more money. I'm worried about his well-being." Oh, she's fuming now. Much better. I was getting lonely here in AngerVille.

"Don't kid yourself, doctor. We're both after power." My condescending tone oozes disdain as I raise my chin just enough to look down on her; an easy task considering our heights.

"Yes, I want to keep Max's sponsors and the team investors happy. That is, in fact, my job, and that's how I make sure he has a spot to come back to. And you…" I lay my elbow on the dark mahogany table and point at her, across from me, out of my reach for both of our sakes. "You need him too, to make a name for yourself. It's the ‘Jett-Hadden Technique' they're calling it, isn't it? If Mr. Sinclair over here doesn't get back to his prime form, it's not just his well-being that is going to take the fall, is it?" She doesn't answer, so I push further, her green eyes getting darker before me. "You took the Hippocratic Oath, doctor. Not the hypocrite one."

And that does it.

"You may own the club, Mr. Gunn, but you don't own me and it's obvious you don't own the same values as I do. So fuck you." Now I remember her! We've spoken over the phone.

There's a collective gasp at her wording, but she carries on. I'd bet the club, and throw in the stadium too, that she didn't even notice the sound or care about it.

"Nothing comes before what's best for my patients. Nothing . So I won't stand being accused otherwise." She gets up, the heavy chair squeaking as she shoves it back. Her eyes are on me only, unaware of the audience she's holding captive. "I don't care how you do your job, Mr. Gunn, but you sure as hell won't tell me how to do mine."

April looks around, popping the bubble where there were only the two of us. She pulls the collar of her pristine white jacket down and excuses herself to everyone but me. Then she stomps her tiny feet out and slams the door with more force than I would've given her credit for having.

Like I said, highly entertaining.

I can't even remember the last fucker who spoke like that to me. I look at my PA, who's white as a ghost, so I'm guessing she can.

Mia knows how ruthlessly I deal with the slightest hint of disrespect.

What she doesn't know is that I riled April up on purpose. Nor does she have any idea how my hand is itching to deal with the doctor later.

I stand by everything I said. It's the fucking truth, but yes, I framed it like that to get her as distressed as I am right now. It's only fair, isn't it?

"Physiotherapy Guy. The doctor throwing a fit changes nothing. I need something to work on." I stand up and signal Mia to follow me. "It's in your interest too, Maxwell. I'm trying to save you millions in contracts that will be voided if you're not playing." We leave the room and step into my office, where I close the blinds and keep working with Mia like nothing happened. If only.

After long minutes of pretending to type anything non-April related on my laptop, an idea comes to mind and I guess no one is getting any work done around here today.

"Mia, get George and go to the closest Apple store now. Buy the latest iPhone with a new SIM card and bring it back to me."

From the corner of my eye, I see Mia checking her watch. She attempts in vain to keep me on schedule, unaware that nothing is going according to plan today, so we might as well just blow the whole agenda. "Mr. Gunn, we need to head to?—"

"Change of plans, Mia. Move things around." My sharpness tells Mia not to push me on this.

"Yes, sir." Always the drama queen, she huffs the words out, uncrosses her legs in an exaggerated fashion, stands, and excuses herself out of my office.