Busty-VP of Cranbaby Organics, Paige Turner, steals bad-boy enforcer for the Seattle Sharks, Rory Jackson, from his widely rumored girlfriend, Linda Wallace, who has been a permanent seat warmer at the Shark’s stadium for the past two seasons. Perhaps this well-known-do-gooder isn’t as innocent as we all are meant to believe.
The words were laid above a picture of Rory gripping the hips of a blonde bunny I’d seen more times than I could count outside the Sharks’ locker room. A crack opened up in my chest just enough to sear. He’d said we were real. And before that, he’d signed a damn contract assuring me exclusivity.
Notorious player. Bed-hopping bad-boy. The names the media had often used to describe him flashed in my mind, each time filling my head with more and more doubt. Was he playing me?
“Well?” My father snapped before I could gather my thoughts enough to make a decision. He loosened the tie around his neck, and I put a lock on the tears threatening to escape my eyes. Now was not the time to show emotion. Not here. Not at work. In front of my father/boss.
“This picture could’ve been taken at any time before we met,” I said, rising from my seated position to match his stance. “He wasn’t attached when we started dating.” The emphasis I put behind my words was almost enough to convince my heart, but a history of Rory’s promiscuity had doubt seeping through every crack I had in the wall around my heart. The same heart that Rory had recently branded his fucking name on. “She could be a friend,” I added as I glanced down at the picture again.
Father rolled his eyes. “The article suggests a hell of a lot more than friendship, Paige. The other woman is quoted as heartbroken.” He paced in front of my desk.
My chest tightened at the words. Shit. “This is what the paparazzi do. Twist things. Rory wouldn’t do this—”
“He would! That’s who he is.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is exactly the reason I told you to stay away from him.”
“What? You told me I was a grown woman capable of making my own choices!” I was thankful for the desk between us because I had the urge to strangle him.
“Clearly I thought you were smart enough to make the right decisions.”
“You mean the decisions you’d make for me.”
He tossed his hands in the air. “Well, what would you have me think? Our public relations team has gotten over thirty calls about the situation, not even mentioning the angry consumer emails we’ve received, and this only released this morning! I won’t even discuss the forums on the blog because they’re downright malicious.”
I shook my head and pressed the intercom on my desk. “Get me, Kelsey. Quickly, please.”
“Right away, Ms. Turner.” I took my hand off the intercom and looked my father in the eye.
“I will handle this.”
“You have to. Regardless of the legitimacy of these claims we are now suffering a backlash. I’d suggest you issue a public statement as soon as possible.” He lowered his voice to the tone he reserved for getting his way in any sort of deal. “A statement denying real romantic ties to Rory Jackson would be the best avenue to take.”
I gaped at him for a moment before I shoved my cell in my purse. Kelsey walked through the door, saving me from going off on my own father. I motioned to the seat behind my desk, her eyes darting between my father and me as she sat down. “I need you to filter directions on all our social media sites—post my statement and run interference. Try to cool the heat hitting us.” I slipped my purse over my shoulder and walked around my desk.
“Of course.” Kelsey didn’t need to ask what about, yet another reason why I’d kept her for so many years—she was on top of everything, always. “What is your statement, Paige?” She held a pen over a scratch notebook I kept in my desk drawer.
I clenched my eyes shut for a moment preparing myself for the awful sensation of deliberately disappointing my father—it was sour and heavy in my stomach—but I couldn’t lie. Whether it was anyone’s business or not what I did in my personal life, I wouldn’t publically strip myself of Rory…not without hearing his side of the story first.
One crisis at a time.
I opened my eyes, locking onto my father’s but speaking to her. “Rory Jackson and I are in a happy, healthy relationship. The accusations of the articles are under investigation by my team, and I sincerely apologize to anyone the misunderstanding may have hurt in any way, including the referenced Ms. Linda Wallace.”
Kelsey nodded as she wrote down each word before looking up at me. “Anything else?”
“Yes. Track down the reporter who penned the article. The picture is real, but the words behind it are borderline liable. We need to see who he spoke with, if anyone, and why they’d want to sabotage Rory and me.”
Dad crossed his arms over his chest, the frustration in his eyes slowly ebbing with each firm action I took. “Rory will agree with your statement if they ask him for comment, correct?”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. I had no idea what Rory’s reaction to this would be. If he’d lied to me and had been “cheating” on me the entire time, he might say anything to the papers.
He wouldn’t do this. You know he wouldn’t.
The reassuring voice in the back of my head was growing smaller the longer I stood in my office, unsure and analyzing every encounter between Rory and myself for the past month. Had I been falling for him while he’d kept true to his playboy ways? Had everything he’d said, done, just been part of the role I’d hired him to play? Had he only been mine on the days we’d seen each other?
“Paige?” My father snapped me out of my thoughts, his tone soft for the first time since he entered my office.
“He wouldn’t do this. You don’t know him.” Dad’s eyes slowly closed as I walked out of my office and toward the elevator. I typed out a fast text to Rory.
ME: Meet me?
Rory instantly texted back: Anywhere.
ME: Leaving office. Closer to your place.
RORY: Halfway there.
I leaned my head back against the elevator, trying to calm my racing heart as I took the long ride down. At least he was willing to meet me. That gave what little hope that clung to my heart enough spark to breathe.
After a short drive and another elevator ride up, my hands shook as I reached up to knock on his front door. My knuckles didn’t get within an inch of it before Rory was there, jerking me into the loft with a frantic look in his eyes.