At six forty-five the next evening, Leo Reyes arrived at the Bennett house wearing a black suit and the expression of a man prepared for photographers, donors, gossip, and possibly minor warfare.
He had spent the afternoon at the hotel ignoring calls from Marco, who believed attending the fundraiser with Maya was either a public relations disaster or a public relations miracle and had not yet decided which argument would make Leo listen faster. Leo had listened to none of it. The club expected him to appear, smile, thank the Foundation, and look healthy enough to reassure sponsors without looking healthy enough to be asked about returning to the field.
He could do that.
He had smiled through worse things than Ashford.
At least, that was what he believed until Maya opened the door.
For
