The door closes behind him, and I drop into my chair, pressing my palms against my eyes. This is exactly what I was afraid of. The second you let your guard down with a player, the second you blur those lines, everyone notices.
My phone buzzes. Carter’s name lights up the screen.
Dinner tonight? My place.
I stare at the message for too long, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Every rational part of my brain screams to say no. To pull back before this gets worse. But the memory of his hands on my skin, the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the world who mattered, it makes rational thought impossible.
Can’t. Work.
Three dots appear immediately.
You have to eat.
I’ll grab something.
Liar.
A laugh escapes before I can stop it. He knows me too well already, and that’s dangerous.
Carter, we need to be careful.
The dots appear and disappear twice before his response finally comes through.
I know. But I’m not good at staying away from you.
My heart does that ridiculous flip again, the one that’s becoming far too familiar. I set the phone face-down on my desk and try to focus on the press release I’m supposed to be writing. But the words blur together, meaningless, because all I can think about is the way Carter’s voice drops when we’re alone. The way he touches the small of my back when no one’s looking. The way everything feels different now.
A sharp knock interrupts my spiraling thoughts.
“Come in.”
Ralph pushes the door open, his expression unreadable. “Got a minute?”
“Of course.” I gesture to the chair across from me, pulse quickening.
He sits, studying me with those sharp lawyer eyes that miss nothing. “How’s the shadowing going?”
“Fine.” The word comes out too fast. “Carter’s been… cooperative.”
Ralph’s eyebrow arches. “Cooperative. That’s an interesting choice of words.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he says slowly, leaning back in his chair, “that I’ve been doing this job for twenty years. I know what it looks like when lines get blurred.”
My stomach drops. “Ralph—”
He holds up a hand. “I’m not accusing you of anything, Olivia. But I’m also not blind. And ifI’mnoticing something, other people will too.”
The words hit like a physical blow. I open my mouth to deny it, to lie, to do anything except confirm what he already suspects. But the truth sits heavy on my tongue.
“It’s complicated,” I finally say.
“It always is.” Ralph’s voice softens slightly. “But you’re smart enough to know what this could mean for your career. For his.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” He leans forward, voice dropping. “Because Mark Davidson doesn’t tolerate scandals. Especially not ones that involve his star quarterback and his PR specialist. You clean up messes, Olivia. You don’t create them.”
