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“We can release images of Corey working at Soup Soul just in time for Easter,” Patti suggests. “People love seeing their heroes volunteering.”
The images ofwhatnow?
“Already done,” the woman’s assistant, Chris, declares with a proud lift of his chin. “We posted an article about it on the team’s community outreach page this morning.”
I stare at the man but don’t hear what he says next as blood roars in my ears, drowning out the conversation around me.
They have pictures of me working at Soup Soul?
How is that possible?
No one at the Lonestars organization knows about my involvement with the soup kitchen. No one except …
The truth is a smack to the face. My skin stings from the betrayal, but the strike gives me the focus to tune back into the conversation.
“The soup kitchen?” CJ asks.
“Yes,” Chris confirms. “They’re well known in the community. Knowing Corey volunteers there will earn goodwill with the public.”
I feel my temper rising—the one characteristic I seem to have inherited from my worthless father. No one is supposed to know about Soup Soul. It was my safe space as a kid, aside from the Jones’s house. It’s not meant to be used as a prop in their public image agendas. It’s worth more than that.
“That’s excellent,” Charles declares. “Spread those pictures everywhere. And do it quickly. We want good press to overshadow anything that’s going to come out from yesterday’s incident.”
“No,” I growl.
The room falls silent. All eyes turn to me.
“Excuse me?” Charles asks.
I curl my hands into fists and dig my nails into my palms, shaking. Gary puts a hand on my shoulder, silently telling me to keep it together.
I can’t.
“I’m not a fucking product,” I snap. “What I did was wrong, and I’ll own up to whatever consequences follow. But I’m not going to allow anyone to share personal aspects of my life that I don’t approve of. My work with Soup Soul is private. And it’s going to stay that way.” I direct the next words to Chris, “Take that article down. Now.”
The man blanches.
His boss comes to his rescue. “No. The article stays.”
I see red.
“And before you unleash that temper on us,” Patti continues, “You are, in fact, a product Mr. Johnson. As a member of this organization, we have every right to post about you on the team’s site.”
Not about this.
I shrug off Gary’s hand. “So you don’t care what I want?”
“That’s not true,” Charles answers for her. “But unless you aren’t interested in remaining a player on this team, you will let the people I pay to keep the Lonestars’ reputation pristine do their job.”
I’m seconds away from losing my cool. I need to get out of here before I do.
“It sounds like you have it all figured out.” I push back my chair and stand. “I don’t need to be here. I’ll see myself out.”
I’m unable to take one step before Charles says, “Wait just a moment, Corey. I’d like to have a private word with you.” He looks around the table and commands, “Leave us.”
His good little soldiers are quick to gather their belongings and scurry out of the room. I avoid Carlee’s stare as she walks past me, and I reassure Gary that it’s okay to leave me with theowner. He reluctantly agrees but gives me a cautious look before leaving the room.
Once the door closes behind my agent, I turn my attention to the wealthy owner.
