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“Keep going.” Tyra’s voice was sickly sweet. Bitch was enjoying this.

I swiped.

The second one hit like a physical blow.

Monroe’s lips pressed to the top of my head. The kiss he gave me before walking up on stage to announce the pick.

I shoved the thing back at her, focused on keeping my hand steady. “What about them? We were talking closely in one, and he placed a friendly kiss on the other. Lots of friends kiss platonically.”

Tyra scoffed. “You’re great at spinning an answer, Gracie, but don’t insult me. I am, after all, the one who taught you how to do that.”

She didn’t teach me shit. But I said nothing.

“There are more. And Lauren, here.” She exchanged a sidelong glance with Lauren, who’d yet to utter a word, let alone look me in the eye. “She has quite the story to tell about a fake relationship PR stunt.” Tyra’s thin lips curled upward.

I chuffed, swiveling my attention to Lauren. Trying to hide the nerves racing through my body. “If there was some low-key PR deal, there would have been an iron-clad NDA.”

She flashed a smug smile my way. “I never signed it.”

I was nearly positive that wasn’t true, but there was no use arguing it at this moment. So I rolled my eyes, hoping they’d believe my bravado.

“Plus,” Tyra said, shrugging a slender shoulder, “I have a source inside the league who saw you two together. He’s quite…invested, actually, in Monroe’s reputation continuing to degrade. You two probably didn’t realize all the eyes that have been carefully watching. Did you have fun in that little stairwell at the game?” Her blue eyes danced with victory. “I mean, I obviously wasn’t in there with you, but I can guess what went on. I’m sure people will have some opinions about it, too. Really, the whole thing seems very…juicy.”

“Who’s your source?” I practically spat out, body vibrating.

Not that I really needed her answer. I knew it was Vincent. This had his dirty fingerprints all over it, and I was regretting not hitting his car harder.

Or hitting him.

Maybe with a car…

“I’m not here to discuss sources.” She slipped the phone back into her clutch. “This story is going to run. The only question is what angle it takes when it does.”

My throat clogged. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I had my suspicions, but I wanted Tyra to spell it out.

“I want a true inside scoop. You give me the details I want, and I’ll make sure the piece favors you. A man in a position of power over you, pursuing you while dating another, a ploy of a relationship to lie to fans while you were opposed to his advances...” She paused. “See how nice that sounds without your name being attached to it and dragged through the mud?”

Fuck.

I really was going to throw up.

Tyra’s smile said she knew she had me on the ropes—desperate. “This is a big story, Gracie. I’m impressed by the work you’ve done here. Decide to take the correct route and you can come back and work for me…full partner track. Pick your own clients. Hell, I’ll put your name on the door.”

Her final blow landed right in the ribs, knocking every ounce of air from my lungs.

The alcove went silent.

“And Monroe?” I asked.

Tyra shook her head. “Sorry, I told you…the piece runs regardless. But there’s a version where you’re a professional who maintained appropriate boundaries, and there’s a version where you’re…something else.” She shrugged. “You’re smart, Gracie. You know what’s coming. I’m offering you the chance to choose where you’re standing when it does.”

She turned and walked back toward the ballroom, Lauren following quietly behind. Neither gave a backward glance.

The piece runs regardless.

I dropped into the chair, my head falling into my hands, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes until little stars appeared. Wracking my brain for an out. A solution.