Sitting there for a moment, it all sinks in. We’re outed. I’m all over the internet. There’s no way in hell Boseman doesn’t see this. I broke the one rule I was supposed to follow.
Absolutely no fraternization with the athletes or production crew.
Fuck. FUCK. I’m screwed. I’m completely and utterly fucked. I don’t think there is any way I can fix this.
My eyes burn with tears, and I’m honestly surprised I even have any left after last night. I let myself fall back into the bed and bury my head in a pillow, curling up into myself.
I don’t know how long I cry for, but eventually I’m rocked as the bed dips under Ryan’s weight when he climbs in behind me, wrapping me in his arms.
“Isa, I’msosorry.” His voice cracks. “I wasn’t thinking. I just…” A sigh. “I don’t want to make any excuses. All I can do is apologize and hope you’ll forgive me.” He buries his head into my hair and inhales deeply, squeezing me even tighter to him as if I might drift away if he doesn’t hold on.
I turn my head enough to speak without the pillow muffling my voice. “It’s not all your fault. We were both careless. Our minds were still shellshocked after your injury that neither of us were thinking.”
“I hate to ask… but have you heard anything from work?” he asks.
I start to shake my head as I hear the telltaledingof an email notification.
I let out a resigned sigh. “Cazzo.”
He releases me to retrieve my phone from where I tossed it and passes it across to me, propping himself up behind me so he can read over my shoulder.
Yep. There it is in black and white. An email from Peter Boseman himself.
I click into the email and scan through it, but I didn’t need to. I already knew what it was going to say.
From: Peter Boseman
To: Isabella Rossi
CC: Boseman HR
Subject: Meeting
Ms. Rossi,
I’ve sent a meeting invitation to accompany this email for first thing this morning. Please be punctual.
We’ll be discussing details that appeared in the press overnight and your future.
Regards,
Peter Boseman
CEO, Boseman Production Security
The meeting invitation comes through at the exact moment I finish reading the email. With shaky fingers, I tap accept.
Locking my phone, I start to calculate how much time I have to get ready. I wasn’t prepared to spend the night at Ryan’s this last minute, nor was I anticipating needing to go into the office so early this morning, so I have no clothes here. I’ll need to head back to my apartment to change. And shower. We never ate last night. I need to eat something. I guess I could always skip breakfast to buy myself more time. But I still?—
“Isa,” Ryan’s soft voice breaks through my tailspin of thoughts. I peer over my shoulder, meeting his gaze. “Go jump in the shower. I’ll make us something to eat and then I can drop you at your place so you can change since your car is still at the stadium.”
Oh, fuck.My car. I didn’t even think about the fact that I rode home with Ryan and left my car in the stadium’s lot.
“I’ve only got?—”
“I know,” he interrupts gently. “I’ll have you out the door in half an hour. Go, shower. I’ll whip something up. I can also take you to the office, so you don’t need to get an Uber. We’ll figure out getting your car later.”
In record time,I was able to shower, throw on a change of Ryan’s clothes, and scarf down the scrambled eggs he whipped up. We were out the door and in his car in less than the thirty minutes he promised me it would take. When we walked into my place, Jordan was sitting on the couch as if she knew I’d be on my way over.
