Billionaire, I Am Not Your Wife! novel Chapter 189

Chapter 184: Lay Low

Dante’s POV

I found her in the facility at eleven.

She’d arrived before me, which she’d started doing-the early arrival that meant she was doing the footwork drills before I got there, the private work she’d been adding to the three-times-a-week sessions, the work she did when no one was watching. I’d noticed it because the court had the settled quality of someone who’d already been on it when I arrived, the faint trace of a session that had started before I’d gotten there.

She was at the baseline when I came through the door, working the inside-out forehand with the adjusted path. The shoulder extension looked cleaner than Tuesday.

She looked up.

“The shoulder is better,” I said.

“It’s getting there,” she said. “Still pulls when I push the extension too far but the range is bigger than last

week.”

“I can see that,” I said.

She bounced the ball once, twice, in the way she did when she was between things, the automatic motion of a player at rest. “You have something to say,” she said. Not a question.

“I talked to Maria,” I said.

She stopped bouncing the ball.

“My manager,” I said. “She handles my career, she scouts talent, she’s been in the sport her whole adult life.” I paused. “I told her I’d been working with someone. A returning player, quality I thought was worth looking at. I didn’t tell her who.”

Sedona looked at me.

“She wants to come to Seattle,” I said. “See you hit. If what she sees matches what I’ve described, she’ll talk to you about what a return to competition might look like.” I paused. “That’s where it starts. Maria coming here and watching. Nothing beyond that until she’s seen you and you’ve talked to her and everyone has decided if this is a direction that makes sense.”

The court was very quiet.

“You called your manager about me,” she said.

“I told her I was working with someone who was worth looking at,” I said. “Yes.”

“Without telling me.”

“Without telling you,” I confirmed. “Because I wanted to know if she was interested based on my

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Lay Low

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description alone. If she’d come on the strength of my professional opinion rather than because she was doing me a personal favor.” I looked at her. “She’s interested on the professional merits, Sedona. Not because of me.”

She was quiet for a moment.

“When?” she said.

“She’s flexible,” I said. “I told her the player would need to confirm. Whenever works for you.” I paused. “There’s no pressure on timeline. If you want more time before she comes, she’ll wait. If you want her here next week, she can do that too.”

Sedona looked at the court.

She was doing the thing she did when she was receiving something significant-the stillness that wasn’t absence but presence, the way she processed things before she said anything about them.

I waited.

“I’m scared,” she said, finally.

“I know,” I said.

“What if she comes and she doesn’t see what you see?”

“Then she doesn’t see it,” I said. “And you keep working and you find another door.” I paused. “But I’ve been watching you hit for over a month, Sedona. I know what I see. And I’ve been playing this game for eighteen years and I know the difference between what I want to see and what’s actually there.”

She looked at me.

“You’re sure,” she said.

“I’m sure there’s something worth Maria looking at,” I said. “Whether Maria agrees with me-that’s for Maria to decide. But yes. I’m sure.”

She bounced the ball once.

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay you’ll meet with her?”

“Okay I’ll meet with her,” she said. “Next week if she can come next week.”

“I’ll tell her,” I said.

She nodded once, the specific nod she had when she’d made a final decision and was moving on to the next thing. Then she looked at the baseline.

“Are we hitting or are we talking?” she said.

I picked up my racket.

We hit.

Lay low

Logan’s POV

The call came at seven-fifteen on a Monday morning.

I was in my home office, first coffee of the day, going through the weekly briefing my assistant had prepared. The company had needed real attention since I’d come back from Seattle.I’d been putting in longer hours than usual, the specific focus of someone trying to compress lost time.

The number on the screen was saved under a contact name that was a string of numbers rather than a name, which was how I’d saved it, deliberately.

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