Chapter 72
Hayes's POV
The Apex Group headquarters rose from Platinum Cliffs like a monument. I adjusted my tie as I walked through the lobby, ignoring the stares from employees who probably couldn't believe the prodigal son had actually shown up.
The top floor was all my father's domain—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking his empire, mahogany and marble, and the kind of cold that had nothing to do with temperature.
When I entered, he stood by those windows, hands clasped behind his back. He didn't turn around.
"Sit," he said.
I stayed on my feet. "You said it was urgent. So talk."
He finally turned, his expression carved from ice. "There's an acquisition in Starport that requires board approval. They need you there. My assistant already sent you the itinerary—flight leaves tomorrow morning, two days maximum."
"Why me?" My jaw clenched. "You've handled acquisitions for thirty years."
"Because you're the Apex heir, Hayes." His voice could've frozen water. "You agreed that after this season ends, you'd return to the family business. This is the first step in that transition. You need to understand how these operations work."
There it was. The exchange. He'd backed off Sienna, and this was the price.
I felt something twist in my gut—anger, resentment, the trapped feeling I'd lived with for eighteen years before football gave me an out. But I'd made the deal knowing exactly what it would cost.
"Fine," I said after a long moment. "But I have conditions."
His eyebrow lifted slightly. "Speak."
"First, two days only. No extensions. I need to get back for training." I met his stare head-on. "Second, you don't use 'family business' as an excuse to disrupt my schedule before I officially retire. And third—" My voice dropped to something harder, colder. "Sienna is off-limits. You don't ask about her. You don't interfere with her. You don't even think about her."
"I already agreed to those terms," Malcolm said flatly. "But understand this, Hayes—this is a transaction, not charity. After the Super Bowl, you return to Apex full-time. That's the deal we made."
My fists clenched at my sides, but I forced myself to nod. "I know."
Malcolm turned and pressed the intercom. "Send Graham in."
A few minutes later, Apex's CFO walked into the office with an armload of files. For the next two hours, I was forced to sit at the conference table while they explained the financial models, due diligence reports, and regulatory risk assessments for the Starport acquisition in excruciating detail.
My father watched coldly, occasionally asking pointed questions to test whether I was paying attention. I forced myself to focus, to memorize the key numbers and decision points, even though my mind kept flashing back to Sienna.
"Tomorrow afternoon you'll have a final conference call with the acquisition team," Graham said, pushing a thick file across to me. "This is the complete deal structure. You'll need to familiarize yourself with it before you board."
I nodded, tucking the file into my briefcase.
After Graham left, my father leaned back in his chair, studying me.
"You can go," he finally said. "Remember, eight a.m. flight tomorrow. Don't be late."
I stood and walked out without looking at him again.
I stood in the hallway outside Apex headquarters, finally having time to check my phone. Bobby's name appeared in my missed calls.
I called him back.
"Got Sienna's car report," Bobby said the moment he answered.
"How bad?"
"It's a death trap. Brake pads worn down 80%, brake fluid needs replacing, suspension's shot. I'm genuinely shocked she's been driving it without dying."
My grip tightened on the phone. That car—her grandmother's old sedan. Probably the only thing she had left from that life. She'd never agree to replace it.
"Fix everything," I said. "But keep it looking the same. She won't accept it otherwise."
"Got it. Full overhaul—brakes, suspension, tires, battery, even the engine. Should take about a week to make it run like new while keeping the exterior original."
"Bill my account. And Bobby? Don't let her know how much this cost or how bad it really was. She'd freak out if she knew the price." I said.
He sighed. "Bro, you're completely gone for this girl. But hey, heard you went to the office. Your old man really making you dance?"
"Yeah." I pushed off the wall, heading for the elevator. "Some acquisition bullshit. Part of the 'transition' into becoming a good little heir."
"Shit," Bobby said quietly. "You really agreed to all that?"
"I didn't have a choice." The elevator doors opened and I stepped inside. "It was the condition for him leaving Sienna alone."
I had lied to her this morning about being in control, but it was the only way to keep her from feeling guilty.
Silence stretched between us, heavy with everything Bobby didn't say.
"I'll handle the car," he finally said. "And Hayes? Good luck telling her about the trip."
"Yeah," I muttered, ending the call.
I stared at my reflection in the polished elevator doors. Two days. Just two days in Starport, then I'd be back. Back to training. Back to Sienna.
---
Sienna's POV
At five-ten, I stood by the studio entrance with an armload of design portfolios. The Rust Arts District's evening air had a bite to it, and I'd wrapped my coat tighter around myself, occasionally glancing toward the end of the street.
The sound of an engine grew closer.
Hayes's car pulled up smoothly. He got out and crossed to me in quick strides. His face showed fatigue, suit jacket draped over his arm, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, tie loosened. But the moment he saw me, his eyes softened.
"Why didn't you wait inside?" He frowned, taking the stack of portfolios from my arms. "Why didn't you have Reina help you carry these down?"
"She was busy with something else..." My protest sounded weak. "And they're not that heavy."
Hayes loaded everything into the backseat, then opened the passenger door, one hand hovering over the frame to keep me from hitting my head.
I slid in. The car was warm. Hayes started the engine but didn't drive off immediately. Instead, he reached into the backseat and produced a thermos, handing it to me.
"Drink something hot."
I took the thermos and unscrewed the cap. The scent of herbal tea wafted up.
Hayes looked ahead, avoiding my eyes, his tone casual. "Picked it up at a convenience store on the way."
I knew it was a lie—convenience stores didn't sell freshly brewed tea like this. He must have gone somewhere specific to get it. Holding the warm thermos, I felt something bloom in my chest, almost overwhelming.
Hayes sensed my emotion and turned to look at me. "What's wrong?"
I shook my head, my voice slightly hoarse. "Nothing... thank you."
Hayes was silent for a moment, then started the car. "Let's go home."
Home.