Ralph sips his coffee. “Storm knows about the footage. I told him.”
“Thanks. Did you pay them for it?” I glance at my phone on the desk. “I need to make sure this footage doesn’t leak.”
He nods and heads for the door. “I did, but you know how these things go. You’ve got two hours before Mark starts breathing down your neck.”
“Two hours,” I repeat, though my focus stays on the screen.
When the door shuts, I let out a slow breath and lean back in my chair. For a guy I barely know, Carter’s gotten under my skin more than I like to admit. Maybe it’s because I’ve spent my career cleaning up messes that were exactly what they looked like — and this time, it isn’t.
This time, he’s innocent.
And if I have to torch every headline in the city to prove it, I will.
My fingers hover over the keyboard as I build the framework of the statement. The cursor blinks, impatient. Every word I type has to walk that fine line between truth and damage control.
PRESS RELEASE – STATEMENT FROM THE DAKOTA DRAGONS
The Dakota Dragons organization is aware of an incident involving quarterback Carter Storm at a downtown establishment late last night.
After reviewing verified footage, we can confirm that Mr. Storm was not the instigator of the altercation in question.
The matter has been resolved with full cooperation from local authorities.
The organization stands by Mr. Storm and remains focused on the upcoming season.
I read it back twice. It’s calm, neutral, controlled, everything I’m supposed to be.
Still, I can’t stop thinking about the way Carter steadied that woman, the confusion on his face when she tried to hit him. Not anger. Just disbelief.
I hitSave, thenSend to Legal. Ralph can add his notes before it goes out.
The door crashes open before I can reach for my coffee.
“Olivia!”
Mark Davidson’s voice booms through the office like a warning shot. He strides in, jacket half off, phone in hand, the color high in his cheeks.
“Good morning, Mark,” I say, keeping my tone professional.
“Don’t ‘good morning’ me. Every sports network in the country is calling. Half of them want a statement, the other half already have one. I’ve got sponsors panicking, and you’re sitting here typing like it’s a Sunday crossword!”
“Because I’m doing my job,” I answer evenly. “And if you give me ten minutes, I can have the official statement out and the rumor mill buried before lunch.”
He slams his phone onto my desk. “Ten minutes ago, this team was trending for all the wrong reasons. I want this gone, Olivia. Vanished.”
“It will be.” I meet his gaze without blinking. “Carter didn’t touch her, Mark. We have the footage. Ralph bought it, and it’s secure.”
He blinks, some of the fury draining from his face. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
Mark exhales through his nose, the fight slowly leaving him. “Fine. Fix it. And get him back in front of a camera smiling before tonight’s coverage. The sponsors love his ‘wholesome hero’ routine. Use it.”
He storms out as fast as he arrived, leaving the faint smell of expensive cologne and stress in his wake.
I sink back into my chair, counting to five before reaching for my phone.
Carter answers on the second ring. “Rivers.”
