I bend until we’re eye level, stare to unflinching stare.

“I’m sorry, Ban,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have said it.”

She blinks like my apology startled her and steps back, inserting space between us. She spares a quick glance at Mitch and Maybe Jimmy before looking back up at me.

“You’re not sorry, Jared,” she says softly, glaring at me. “But you will be.”

That’s her parting shot. She turns on her high heels and leaves the bar, dignity in the set of her shoulders and indignation in the rigid line of her back.

It’s only when I’m still at the bar long after Mitch and Maybe Jimmy have left, nursing my fourth Jameson, that I process what’s happened. For once I allowed emotion to get the best of me, and I said something I should never have said in front of people who should never have heard me say it.

Ironically, it’s only when I’m almost too drunk to stand that I gain perfect clarity. Only when the room starts spinning am I still enough to understand.

My boyfriend is a good man.

You should be careful before you insult me or my boyfriend.

Banner praising Zo. Banner protecting Zo. Banner being with Zo.

That emotion that has been choking me since I heard Banner speak today—hell, maybe since August told me about Banner dating Zo—that emotion is the one that makes you do and say petty things. That emotion has a name.

It’s jealousy.

12

Jared

“So you survived your first lice infestation, huh?” I ask August. He’s on speaker phone and I’m on my laptop, checking the market, half my attention on my brother, the other half on the numbers.

“Barely and only because Iris came home early,” he replies from the other end. “She loved the conference, by the way.”

“Yeah, she told me.” I squint at the upward pointing arrow on the last investment Bent told me about. Maybe time to buy more shares.

“She especially enjoyed Banner Morales,” August says.

My fingers pause over the keyboard at the mention of Banner. I’ve been back three days and the burn in my belly hasn’t gone away. It’s like a half-lit stick of dynamite, a sizzle waiting to blow. I don’t know if I’m waiting for her to make a move or to make mine. Either way, something will happen.

“Yeah, she told me Banner’s session was great,” I say after a few moments.

“She said you were in the session,” August continues, a question in his voice.

“Sounds like Iris said a lot. Glad she enjoyed it.”

“Are you seriously considering recruiting Banner to Elevation? Because I think it’s a great idea. I’d love to have Kenan represented through us instead of Bagley.”

“Not that I’m saying I’d try for Banner,” I say neutrally, “but you think Kenan would leave Bagley and follow her?”

“Pffft. In a second. Kenan will never leave Banner. He trusts her, and you know how hard it is for Kenan to trust anyone.”

“Yeah, with good reason after the number his ex did on him.”

“Not ex yet. She’s still giving him a hard time on the divorce.”

“You gotta be shitting me. She cheats with one of his teammates and has the audacity to pitch a fit?”

“She’s frustrated because Banner made sure his prenup was iron tight. She worked with his lawyer to build in special protections. Apparently, Banner didn’t trust her from the beginning.”

“Yeah. Banner has good instincts.”

“Which brings me back to my question,” August says, persistent son of a bitch. “Think she’d come to Elevation?”

Not as long as I’m here.

“Who knows?” I say aloud, completing the transaction to buy more shares. “We can revisit the Banner thing later, though I don’t hold out much hope that she would leave Bagley when he just gave her the LA office to manage.”

“Just wondering. I like her. She’s smart and honest.”

“True on both counts,” I agree. “But I will have some good news about Lamont Christopher the next time we talk.”

“Going number one in the draft Lamont Christopher?” Surprise colors August’s voice. “Damn, bruh. That would be quite the coup. I thought it was all but a done deal with Mitch Sanderson.”

“It’s never a done deal with Sanderson because Sanderson couldn’t ‘do’ a deal if his mother’s life depended on it. It’s still developing. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Do that.”

“And enjoy the Bahamas,” I say, remembering the trip they have planned. “You and the fam deserve a little post-season vacay.”

“I’d rather be in the playoffs,” August says solemnly.

“The Waves are an expansion team,” I remind him unnecessarily. “One you chose to stay with when you had the chance to play for a championship squad.”

Even though it turned out well, it still grates that one of the best deals I ever negotiated got left on the table when August walked away from it.

“Is this really the best time for an I-told-you-so conversation?” August asks, irritation clear in his tone.

“It is when I told you so.” I laugh at the heavy sigh he releases on speaker phone. “Soon, Brother. It takes time. And with you and Kenan on the same team, it’s only a matter of time.”

“We do work well together,” he admits. “Which reminds me, we have a charity project we wanna collab on. I need to talk it through with you. Sponsors and details and stuff.”

“Sure.” I glance up when Chyna walks in, an I-got-a-secret smirk plastered on her face. “Hey, let’s talk later, Gus. Some developments with that Christopher kid I need to handle.”

“Nice. Alright, Brother. Later.”

I disconnect and lean back in my chair, hands linked over my stomach while Chyna plops down into the seat on the other side of my desk.

“Whatcha got?” I ask, returning her eager smile.

“Lamont and his cousin Eric enjoyed their night on the town,” she purrs, flicking one dreadlock over her shoulder and sinking deeper into the leather seat.

“Good.” I grimace remembering that night. “They went hard. I could barely keep up.”

“Well we did provide a bottomless stack of singles in LA’s hottest strip club,” Chyna says wryly. “So going hard was the point.”

“Any fruit from our labor?” My voice is casual, but inside I’m anything but laid back. I’ve never liked or respected Mitch Sanderson, but after the things he said about Banner, blocking his shot feels personal. My inner tiger wants off the leash.

The daughter of a lion is still a lion.

She thinks I’m in The Pride, which means she still thinks that night was about some stupid rite of passage. Over the years, as the gulf between us widened, it seemed less important that she believe me. She had her life, her career in New York, and I had mine in Chicago. Now that we’re in the same city, moving in the same circles, I have to admit I want something with Banner again. She’s dating Vidale, so I keep telling myself I’d settle for friendship. That’s the right thing to do, but the right thing doesn’t always come naturally to me.

“Are you even hearing me?” Chyna demands, ripping me out of my own thoughts.

“Sorry, yeah.” I refocus my attention on her face. “What’d you say again?”

“Man, I hope your head is in the game for this meeting,” Chyna says sharply. “We’ve invested a lot into this deal. Eric says Lamont is ready to sign.”

“Shit.” I did zone out. “Where? When?”

“His hotel in under an hour.” Chyna taps her phone. “Just sent you the address. Get over there and close the deal.”

“Contract already sent over?” I ask, adjusting the surgeon’s cuffs on my shirt and slipping into my suit jacket.

“Yup.” Chyna nods and also stands, heading back to her desk in the outer office. “Emailed you the standard contract, already modified.”

I’m on my way to the elevator but circle back to her desk. I drop a kiss on her cheek and walk backward to the elevator and point at her. “Now don’t you go falling in love with me.”

Chyna laughs, sitting down at her desk and shaking her head, but looking pleased. “I’ve seen girls after you’re done with them. No, thank you. I like my heart in one piece.”

So do I. The closest I’ve ever come to a broken heart was Banner, and she didn’t even know it. Still doesn’t realize how real it was, what I felt for her. I haven’t allowed myself to think of what could have happened, how things might have gone if Prescott hadn’t ruined that night. With Banner back in my orbit, my mind keeps drifting back to those possibilities. As I make the fifteen-minute drive to Lamont’s hotel, that’s what I think about instead of what it will take to seal the deal with this year’s number one draft pick.

“Get your shit together, Foster,” I reprimand myself when I pull up in front of the hotel. I hand the keys to the valet, enter the hotel, and head up to the suite Chyna texted me. I’m rounding the corner when Banner emerges from a room just ahead. She’s dressed in all black. Wide-legged cuffed pants and a fitted black turtleneck, punctuated with a red belt tied at the waist. Red lips, shiny stilettos, hair a sleek, dark curtain hanging loose past her shoulders.

“Banner, fancy meeting you here.” I glance at the room number above her head. Lamont’s room.

“Very fancy,” she replies, stepping around me. She takes a few steps and then snaps her fingers, turning to find me still watching her. “Oh. I almost forgot. Knock, knock.”

I’m piecing this together, and I’m not sure how one of her infamous knock-knock jokes fits in, but it’s a blast from the past I’ve been mentally revisiting all day.

“Huh?” I ask.

“Knock. Knock.” She quirks her mouth so that damn dimple dents one cheek. “Humor me.”