“Like she did her job,” Carter interrupts, his voice hard. “Olivia saved my ass when that stripper tried to ruin me. She’s been nothing but professional, and this—” He gestures to the photos. “This happened because I pursued her. Not the other way around.”
Mark’s gaze swings to him. “You’re not helping your case, Storm.”
“I don’t care about my case. I care about hers.” Carter’s hand moves toward mine, then stops, as if remembering where we are. “Olivia doesn’t deserve to be punished for this. If you need someone to blame, blame me.”
“Oh, I do blame you,” Mark says. “Both of you. You’re adults. You knew the rules. And you broke them anyway.”
“Because we—” Carter starts, then stops.
“Because you what?” Ralph prompts. “Because you couldn’t help yourselves? Because the attraction was too strong? Because you thought you could keep it secret?”
Silence.
Ralph sighs. “Look, I understand that these things happen. But when they happen, they have consequences. And right now, those consequences are about to cost this team millions in sponsorships if we don’t get ahead of the narrative.”
“What do you want us to do?” I ask quietly.
Mark and Ralph exchange a look. Then Mark says, “We release a statement. Official. Professional. It acknowledges the relationship, frames it as something that developed naturally over time, and emphasizes that it in no way compromised Olivia’s ability to do her job.”
“Will that work?” Carter asks.
“It’s our best shot.” Ralph taps the folder. “The alternative is lettingSports Dailycontrol the narrative. And trust me, their version is much uglier.”
I can imagine.
“There’s more,” Mark says, his voice gentler now. “Olivia, you’re off Carter’s detail. Effective immediately.”
My chest tightens. “Mark—”
“Non-negotiable. I’m assigning someone else to shadow him for the rest of the season. You’ll be handling other players, other events. You and Carter need distance. Publicly visible distance.”
“For how long?” Carter asks.
“Until the heat dies down. Could be weeks. Could be months.” Mark’s gaze softens slightly. “Look, I’m not trying to punish you. But optics matter. And right now, the optics of you two working closely together are terrible.”
“What about privately?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
Mark’s eyebrows rise. “Privately?”
“Are you saying we can’t see each other? At all?”
Ralph and Mark exchange another look. Then Ralph says carefully, “We can’t control what you do in your personaltime. But westronglyadvise discretion. No public appearances together. No social media. No anything that could fuel more speculation.”
“So, we have to hide,” Carter says flatly.
“You have to be smart,” Mark corrects. “The media’s going to be watching. Waiting for you to slip up. If you care about each other, if this is real, then you’ll do what’s necessary to protect both your careers.”
The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating.
“Is that all?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Mark nods. “For now. We’ll release the statement at noon. I expect both of you to stay off social media. Don’t comment. Don’t react. Let the PR team handle it.”
“Understood.”
We stand. Carter’s hand brushes mine, so quick and light I almost miss it. But it’s there, a promise, a reminder, a lifeline.
As we walk out of Mark’s office, the weight of everything crashes over me.
