When we pull into the parking garage, there are reporters camped outside the main entrance. Carter swears under his breath.
“Back entrance,” I say quietly. “Through the training facility.”
We make it inside without being spotted, but the damage is already done. Staff members stop talking when they see us. Eyes follow us down the hallway. Whispers trail in our wake.
Ralph meets us outside Mark’s office, his expression grim.
“I tried to warn you,” he says to me.
“I know.”
“This is bad, Olivia. Really bad.” He glances at Carter. “For both of you.”
“We didn’t do anything wrong,” Carter says.
“Doesn’t matter.” Ralph opens the door. “What matters is what it looks like.”
Mark sits behind his desk, his face a mask of controlled fury. The team’s head of security stands beside him, along with someone I don’t recognize, a woman in an expensive suit who screams lawyer.
“Sit.” Mark’s voice could cut glass.
We do.
For a long moment, no one speaks. Mark just stares at us, and I feel like I’m being dissected.
Finally, he leans forward. “Explain.”
“The article is full of lies,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady. “I didn’t leak Carter’s arrest information. I didn’t orchestrate anything. Our relationship developed naturally over—”
“Your relationship.” Mark cuts me off. “The one you both assured me didn’t exist.”
“It didn’t. Not then.”
“But it does now.”
“Yes.” Carter’s hand finds mine under the table. “And I don’t care who knows it.”
The lawyer makes a note. Mark’s jaw tightens.
“Do you have any idea what this does to the team?” His voice rises. “We’re already dealing with the fallout from Storm’s arrest. Now we have our PR specialist sleeping with the player she’s supposed to be managing. It looks like a goddamn soap opera!”
“Mark—” I start.
“I trusted you, Olivia.” His disappointment hits harder than his anger. “I put you in charge of Carter’s image because I thought you were professional. That you could handle it. And instead, you—”
“She didn’t do anything wrong.” Carter’s voice is hard. “I pursued her. I pushed for this relationship. If you want to blame someone, blame me.”
“Oh, I do,” Mark says. “But right now, the media’s blaming her. And they’re questioning whether she’s been compromising her judgment this entire time.”
The lawyer clears her throat. “Mr. Davidson, we need to discuss damage control.”
“Agreed.” Mark turns to her. “What are our options?”
“Legally, Ms. Rivers hasn’t violated any terms of her employment contract. There’s no fraternization policy that explicitly prohibits relationships between staff and players.” She glances at me. “However, the optics are problematic. Especially with the allegations that she leaked confidential information.”
“I didn’t leak anything,” I say firmly.
“Can you prove that?” the lawyer asks.
