The Long Game (Long Game, #1)(3)

My father’s face hardened, his eyes turning an icy shade of blue.

Silence, heavy and thick, crystallized in the room.

And I knew then, in the way his eyelashes swept up and down, that whatever battle I’d been fighting was over. I’d said out loud the one thing that made his switch flip. The Miami Flames were in the mud. We hadn’t gotten to the playoffs in more than a decade. We were far from filling up stadiums. This was the one investment Andrew Underwood had made that hadn’t turned a profit. The one that had cost him more than just money. His pride.

“I just meant that—” I started.

But my battle was now lost. “?‘Mascot Slaughter in Miami Flames’ Home,’?” he read from the iPad. “How’s that for some extra attention?”

I swallowed. “I think the use of the word slaughter is a stretch.”

He gave me a curt nod before continuing, “?‘MLS Miami Flames’ Anniversary Ends in Massacre.’?”

“Massacre also seems like the wrong word.”

My father’s index finger rose in the air. “?‘Miami’s Favorite Bird Was Plucked and Roasted. Whose Head Will Roll Next?’?” That finger returned to the screen and swiped. “?‘Sparkles Deserved to Die.’?” Another swipe. “?‘A Love Letter to Lady Birdinator.’?”

Lady Birdinator. Jesus.

I scoffed, earning a glance from a smirking David. “Those media outlets are just cashing in for easy clicks. They’re not making any serious assessments that should concern us or the franchise. My team will put together a strategy. We’ll send out a press release. We—”

“?‘Daughter of Miami Flames Owner, Andrew Underwood, and Former Runway Model, Maricela Reyes, on the Spot After Horrible Incident with Team Mascot.’?”

That clammy sensation that had covered my skin since I’d entered this office climbed up my spine. Arms. Back of my neck.

He continued, “?‘Adalyn Reyes Unhinged. Who Is the Heiress to the Underwood Empire?’?” I closed my eyes. “?‘Miami Flames FC Under Review. Is the Club Finally Crumbling Down?’?” A drop of cold sweat trailed down my back. “?‘Has Dull and Boring Flames’ Head of Communications Finally Found Some Fire in Her? Female Rage Explained.’?”

Dull and boring.

Finally found some fire in her.

Female rage.

It didn’t matter how straight I held myself in that moment, it was impossible to ignore how small I felt. Inadequate. And when I shifted my weight, even my tailored pantsuit felt wrong. Loose and prickly against my skin. Like I didn’t belong in it.

“Well.” My father’s voice brought me back. I refocused on him. His face. The hardness in his eyes. “I’m going to be honest, these are a little wordy to be headlines, but I guess it doesn’t matter when they hit the nail on the head.” A pause. “Do you still think this is attention we could benefit from, Adalyn?”

I shook my head.

The man I’d looked up to and tried to impress so exhaustingly hard throughout all the years I’d worked for the club sighed. “Would you at least tell us what in the world prompted this?” he asked, and the question caught me so off guard, so unprepared, that I could only stand there, gaping at him.

“I…” I couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

Not with David right there. Maybe if he’d asked me yesterday, intercepted me and demanded an answer right as I was fleeing the scene, as he’d put it. Maybe I would have told him then. I clearly hadn’t been myself. But I couldn’t now.

I’d only prove that those accusations were right. That I was unprofessional. Unqualified for my job, and the job I aspired to have one day. How could I be in charge of anything when I’d lost it like that?

“Sweetheart,” David said, making me turn toward him. I couldn’t believe I’d ever allowed him to call me anything but Adalyn. But at least now, I knew why he had the courage to still do so. “You look so pale. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes,” I croaked, even though I didn’t. Not by a long shot. “It’s just warm in here. And I… I hardly slept last night.” I cleared my throat, met my father’s gaze, words toppling out of my mouth. “You know how hard I’ve worked and how dedicated I am to the club. Couldn’t you just…” Forget this? Take my side? No questions asked. Be my father.

Andrew Underwood leaned back on his chair, the leather creaking beneath him. “Are you asking me to treat you differently just because you’re my daughter?”

Yes, I wanted to say. Just this once. But the pressure behind my eyes returned, distracting me.

“No.” He sliced the air in front of him with his hand. “I have never done that and will not start now. You’re still an Underwood and you’re better than asking for special treatment after embarrassing me and the whole club.”

Embarrassing. I had embarrassed myself, my father, and the club.

I had always prided myself on not letting my father’s words or actions as my boss affect me. But the ugly truth was that they did. That this, this boss-employee relationship was the only relationship we had.

This was all I had.

“You breached the code of conduct,” he continued. “This grants me grounds to fire you. And I might be doing you a favor, all things considered.”