Landon signed his name with a flourish and then looked up. “Make sure you don’t take anything out of that building. Nothing there belongs to you.”
Lord, his continual insinuations that she was a thief were tiresome, but something she wouldn’t have to put up with for long.
“Everything there belongs to me until we sign the final papers and your check clears.”
“Just remember what I said,
She grabbed her clutch from the table and held it against the turmoil twisting a knot in her stomach. She’d dealt with men like Landon for most of her life. Demeaning men who were offended by her mere presence even as they undressed her with their hot eyes. No matter that she wore a sweater that covered her from her chin to her wrists, and her skirt hit just below her knees, to them she would always be a stripper who took her clothes off for money. No matter that they were the heads of philanthropic organizations that raised money for the less fortunate. They resented her for daring to breathe their exclusive air.
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Landon what he could do with himself. She could feel Layla coming to the surface to kick ass and take names. But that’s what Landon wanted, and she could almost hear Virgil whispering in her ear.
The heels of her Christian Louboutin leopard-print pumps tapped across the hardwood floors of the law office. She shut the door behind her and pulled a breath of clean air deep into her lungs. That had been close. She hadn’t let Layla out in a long time. Not since she’d had to pretend that she liked having men stuff money in her G-string. Layla was a fighter and a survivor, and she’d tell Landon to kiss her ass.
She pushed away from the door and threaded her arms through the sleeves of her coat. One of the benefits of selling the team was that she’d be free of Landon and his family. No more picking her way through that fractious web.
The drive to the Key Arena took twenty minutes and gave Faith a few extra minutes to tell herself she was doing the right thing. Virgil had left the Chinooks to her, not Landon, but it had probably been his intent that she sell the team to her stepson. Right? Or would he have been angered by her decision? She just didn’t know, and she wished Virgil had talked to her about it before he’d died.
A cool drizzle wet the windshield of the Bentley as she pulled into the parking garage and into a reserved space. The business offices for the Chinooks were on the second level, and everyone was already seated when she walked into the room. She recognized most of the men sitting at the long table from Virgil’s funeral. “Hello,” she said as she made her way to a vacant chair in the middle. “I hope I haven’t kept you all waiting,” she added, even though she knew she was right on time.
“Not at all.” General manager Darby Hogue stood and offered his hand across the table. His brown eyes were as warm as his palm. “How are you doing?”
“Better.” Which wasn’t necessarily true. She missed Virgil every day, and there was a large hole in her heart. “Thank you for asking.”
Darby reintroduced everyone in the room, starting with executive management, continuing around the table to include the hockey operations staff and concluding with the big captain of the Chinooks sitting at the far end of the table. Roughly eight men and her. Some of them more rough than others. Or rather,
The last time she’d seen Ty Savage, he’d appeared more civilized, in his designer suit. Today his volatile blue- on-blue eyes looked across at her from beneath his black brows, and he didn’t look civilized at all. His arms were folded across his muscular chest covered in a white T-shirt. The words “Chinooks Hockey” were printed in black up one of the long sleeves. It was just after noon and he already sported a five-o’clock shadow. “Hello, Mr. Savage.” Why the captain of the team needed to be in on the meeting, she didn’t know. Although she supposed it didn’t matter.
One corner of his mouth lifted, like she’d amused him. “Mrs. Duffy.”
She set her clutch on the table and took off her coat. One of the coaches rose and helped her. “Thank you,” she said as he hung it on the back of her chair. She pulled down the long sleeves of her cream angora sweater to cover her wrists and directed her attention to the faces around her. “My late husband loved this organization. He loved hockey and used to talk about trades and averages against and front-end deals. I’d listen to him for hours, but I never had any idea what he was talking about.”
She smoothed the back of her skirt and sat. “That’s why I’ve decided to sell the team to someone who has the same passion for the game as Virgil.” A lump formed in her throat and she wondered yet again if she was doing the right thing. She wished she were certain. “A half hour ago, Landon Duffy signed a letter of intent to buy the franchise.” She expected applause. Something. She looked across at the table for some sign of relief, but oddly, she didn’t see any. “When the sale is final, we’ll hold a press conference.”
“When will that be?” Coach Nystrom asked.
“A few weeks.” She folded her hands on the table in front of her. “Landon assures us that nothing will change.”
Someone farther down the table said, “We heard he’s thinking of moving the team.”
Faith had not heard that. If it happened, Virgil would roll over in his grave. “When did you hear this?”
“I got a call this morning from Sports Center asking to confirm it.”
“He didn’t mention it, so I assume he plans to leave the team here in Seattle.” She shook her head. “Why would he move the team?”
“Money,” Darby explained. “We’re still recovering from the lockout, and another city might offer him a new stadium with better concession deals and lower labor costs. A new city might give him more lucrative television contracts and better tax incentives.”
A frown creased Faith’s forehead and she sat back in her chair. She knew about the 2004–2005 NHL lockout. She and Virgil had been married a short time, and she remembered him flying off to meet with the players union, and the impasse that had resulted in the cancellation of the entire hockey season. She remembered a lot of swearing. Much worse than she’d ever heard in any strip club.
The door to the conference room opened and Landon entered, followed by two lawyers. She wasn’t all that surprised to see him. “Have you finished telling them the good news?” he asked, all smiles, as if he were an avenging angel sent to save the Chinooks from her clutches.
She stood. “We’re still discussing the details.”
“I’ll take over from here,” he said, sounding like the CEO that he was in his four-thousand-dollar suit.
“You don’t own the team yet, Landon. I don’t believe you can legally discuss anything.”
He waved his hand, dismissing her. “Run along.”
She felt her cheeks flush. From anger or embarrassment, she didn’t know. Maybe both. She stood a little straighter and squared her shoulders. “If you want to talk to the coaches and staff, you’ll have to wait outside until we’re finished.”
His smile fell. “Like hell, Layla.”
No maybes about it now. She was both mad
Apparently Landon didn’t think so, and his icy gaze got all frosty again and he took a step toward her. “For five years I’ve been forced to tolerate you,” he said as a vein on his forehead popped out. “Not anymore. If you don’t
