Page 73 of Heartless As Puck

Gus drained his coffee and set the empty cup on his desk. “We’d better head out or we’ll be late to meet your manager.”

“Wait. What’s option three?”

He glanced at his watch. “We don’t have time. You’ll have to trust me.”

That shouldn’t have made me nervous, but it did.

We traced my footsteps back out of the building and drove together in one of his company’s sleek SUVs to the stadium. We parked near the side door and slipped past the rink and up the stairs without anyone seeing us. Instead of turning into Stephen’s room as I’d expected, Gus carried along to the end of the corridor and knocked on the very last door.

The owner’s office.

Shit, this was even worse than I’d thought.

“Come in,” a male voice called.

Gus opened the door and preceded me through it, keeping his shoulders back and his movements unhurried despite the deep anxiety I knew he was hiding. I schooled my features like my father—the bastard—had taught me to do and followed close behind.

Inside, on the wall beside the window, was Joseph Trent’s personal desk, but it was currently empty. Trent and Robertson were seated behind a small, round meeting desk near the door. They gestured for us to join them.

I pulled out a chair and tried to hide the tremble in my hands as I snuck a look at Joseph Trent. I’d seen him before but not close up like this. He’d been quite hands-off with the team so far. He was in good shape for a man in his late forties or early fifties, with dark, gray-flecked hair and blue eyes. He was clean-shaven and dressed in a suit that probably cost even more than Gus’s.

“Good morning, gentlemen.” Trent’s voice was brisk and professional. “I assume you both know what we’re here to discuss.”

I nodded, my heart in my throat. I’d played for the Chaos for almost a decade, and though we’d never progressed into the championship playoffs, I’d done my best. I’d worked hard to get to where I was, and I hated the thought that I might lose it because of a piece of shit pap who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“We do,” Gus agreed. “Thank you so much for agreeing to see us. Austin has expressed his deepest regret for what happened and we’re eager to make things right. I know that your media relations staff have no doubt been hard at work, but I’ve also been working on possible approaches to head off the worst of the backlash the photograph might cause.”

“Thank you.” Trent clasped his hands together and leaned slightly toward us. “We’ll get to that in a moment. First, I want to let you know that I’m sorry this happened.”

Wait, what?

I stared at him, uncomprehending.

“We’re committed to finding out who was behind that photograph so we can make sure they aren’t in a position to do it to someone else.” He sighed and ran a hand through the short ends of his hair. “I have a daughter Jane’s age, so I know how upsetting an experience like this could be.”

I exchanged a glance with Gus, pleasantly surprised that he hadn’t chewed me out for besmirching his team’s reputation. Perhaps this wouldn’t be as bad as I’d feared. “I appreciate that.”

He nodded. “That said, we can’t simply pretend it didn’t happen. It did, and it threatens the hard work that dozens of people have put into creating a new narrative for the Chaos.”

My stomach sank. Here it came. The part where they fired me as captain and potentially even scratched me from a few games. I didn’t think they’d trade me, but it was impossible to know that for certain.

“I’m really sorry.” I made sure to meet their eyes even though shame burned in the pit of my gut. I’d failed everyone. Them, Jane, myself. “We got carried away, and it never should have happened. We didn’t realize anyone was there, but that doesn’t excuse us. We should have been more careful.”

“Yes,” Trent agreed. “You should have. You set the example for this team, and so far, we’ve been impressed with your influence on them, but this is a major setback.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Gus said, cutting in smoothly. “We can put an angle on this to emphasize the importance of respecting privacy and the fact that photographing someone like this without their consent—when it causes harm and when they were somewhere that had a reasonable expectation of privacy—is illegal.”

“They were at a camp,” Robertson said, looking unimpressed.

“On privately owned land, where everyone legally allowed to be present had signed a waiver promising not to do this exact type of thing,” Gus countered, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward. “Obviously the situation isn’t ideal, but Austin and Jane believed they were alone, and legally, this should have been impossible. The photographer obviously trespassed, and because of that, this can’t be considered as it might be if it had happened in, say, a public park.”

Was this Gus’s third idea?

I glanced at Robertson and Trent, who were both listening intently. They hadn’t dismissed the prospect outright, so perhaps they were considering it. Maybe this would be okay.

Trent inclined his head. “We’re already investigating who tipped off the photographer because you’re right, they shouldn’t have been there. I don’t think it’s unreasonable for us to expect our team captain to keep his pants on except when he’s in the privacy of a hotel room or his own home, though.”

I winced because Trent wasn’t wrong. Having sex where anyone could stumble across us was risky, and I should have whisked Jane back to our room as soon as things began to move in that direction.