Bigger Than Beckham

Bigger Than Beckham by V. K. Sykes Read Free Book Online

Book: Bigger Than Beckham by V. K. Sykes Read Free Book Online
Authors: V. K. Sykes
Tags: Romance, steamy, steamy romance, Sports, Sports Romance, hot romance, Soccer
    Tony let out a low whistle. “Work with us?
What the bloody hell does that mean? He only owns twenty percent of
the team, and I gather he has no clout with Martha. He’s an
insignificant part of this, isn’t he?”
    “That’s true except for the part about him
being insignificant. The man says he’s prepared to provide us with
inside information, Tony. Fully detailed financial data, insight
into insider discussions, and so on—whatever we want.”
    Tony gripped his mobile tightly. “You mean
he’s prepared to go behind Martha’s back, screwing her over to help
us pry the team loose from her.”
    “That’s certainly one way to put it. Look,
Tony, I didn’t encourage him. I just said I’d discuss it with you,
and that we’d consider his proposal.”
    “Okay, we’ve discussed it and I’ve considered
it,” Tony growled, anger clawing at his gut. “Call him back and
tell him to shove his so-called offer up his traitorous arse.”
    Rex sighed loudly. “I don’t much like the
prospect of working with him either, but perhaps it would be best
to think about it overnight. We can talk again in the morning. I
don’t have to tell you how helpful it could be to have a man on the
inside if we’re really going to do this.”
    Tony paced right around the broad practice
green, now long deserted. He stopped and turned, staring blindly
back at the glaring lights of the clubhouse. Normally, he had few
scruples about using an insider to leak information to him. It
happened all the time in business. The world was awash in
sleazebags that would sell out their company for money, or as a
means to otherwise advance their interests. But he didn’t have to
think about this one. He wanted nothing to do with a man who could
screw over his own kin. His bloody brother’s daughter, for God’s
    Besides, he’d already come up with an
alternative plan to convince Martha to sell. While it might well
end up with him getting into bed with someone, that someone sure as
hell wasn’t going to be Martha’s backstabbing uncle.
    “Sure,” Tony said, “but we both know that
kind of thing can just as easily backfire. I have a feeling
Geoffrey Winston’s about as subtle as a Liverpool home crowd. And
the minute Martha caught wind of that kind of treachery she’d never
speak to me again.”
    “I don’t disagree. But since you’re still
bound and determined to get that team, do you have a better
    “I think I do,” Tony said, impatiently raking
a hand back through his hair after a gust of wind blew it into his
eyes. “Get out your passport, mate. We’re flying to Jacksonville


    Martha elbowed open the heavy wooden door and
dropped her keys into a metal dish replete with forlorn mates to
various locks scattered about the vast house and attached garage.
Kicking off her heels, she headed straight to the kitchen. As it
had since the day her father entered the hospital for the last
time, the house breathed a cool, quiet emptiness. Full of heavy
furniture and gloomy art, it spoke of his loneliness after the
death of his beloved wife, and of his profound bereavement.
    Since moving to Jacksonville to be with him
during his last weeks, Martha had parked herself in her old
room—the one she’d used during her frequent visits. Technically,
while she owned the property now, she still felt like a squatter.
The big, Spanish-style house in the fashionable San Marco district
had never felt like home to her and never would. Home was her cozy,
high-rise condo in Philadelphia’s Society Hill.
    And before that, the red brick colonial near
Marvel, Georgia where Martha had spent her childhood and teenage
years. Her mother was buried on the grounds of that estate, having
been mowed down by a drunk driver at only fifty-five. Her dad had
almost succumbed to the weight of his grief after Mama’s death, and
Martha figured he’d battled his depression only because he had a
fifteen year old

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