“This isn’t fair.” I know I sound like a petulant child, but I can’t help it, and I really don’t know what to do. “I’m squeaky clean. I’ve never been in a day’s trouble my whole life.” Andbeing the dutiful oldest daughter, who thought if I just did this one next thing he might love me, well, I did everything I was told, never colored outside the lines.
Until now.
And look where that got me.
Órlaith nods, her lips twitching like she’s holding back a smile. “And that’s the problem. They’ve got a whiff of blood in the water now, and they want to destroy you.”
Fucking lovely. I cover my face with both palms.
“A distraction from the drama over the next few weeks before the season starts would be good, for everyone. Change the storyline, control the narrative.” She sighs, but there’s something in her tone that tells me she has an idea of how to do just that, and from the way her eyes hold mine, I’d say I’m not going to like it.
“You don’t want them to call you a slut for sleeping around, then make him the only guy you’re seeing. You don’t want them to trash your loyalty to your father, then make this guy the one your dad forgives and loves because you do.” She waves her hand. “At the end of the day, it’s all smoke and mirrors.”
D-did she just say to date Robert? For real? To go back to the man who made my dad so angry at me on my not-a-wedding-day that his ears turned red? She can’t be serious. “Why can’t I just… go into hermit mode and not be with anyone in public?” I swallow. “That seems like the smartest move, right? Some new scandal will come up pretty quickly and make people forget this one.” I’m near sure that’s what Dad would say if he were sitting in this room with me. He’s probably going to be even madder that I didn’t fucking tell him that this meeting was going to happen.
She hums, tapping her finger on her chin. “Firstly, people don’t forget a scandal, Rhiannon. They might move on to the next one, but it’ll always be there, ready to be dug up the nexttime you fuck up, or when they’re bored and have no one else to write about.”
“And second?” My gut churns so hard I feel like I’m going to hurl.
She taps on the keyboard in front of her and spins her computer screen to face me. “The club’s email address has received one hundred emails about you in the last twenty-four hours.”
My jaw drops. “Wh-what?”
She nods, her eyes turning sympathetic. “Some of them…” She winces. “Rhiannon, there are about twenty-five dick pics in this inbox this morning alone. Almost every one of these emails are from fans, men—and a couple of women asking if you want to change teams—offering to be your new prince charming. The toothpaste is well and truly out of the tube, the scandal is scandaling. If we don’t take control of its direction, the club…”
She doesn’t finish her sentence, but we both know what she was going to say. If I don’t act, the club’s board or league admin will step in. If they have to tell me to do damage control, it’ll likely be on their terms. At least here, I’m getting a chance to make my own decision. Kind of.
She scrolls to the bottom of the page, showing me every single email with my name in the subject line. Some of them are particularly… crude. Fuck. Men can be pigs.
“Fuck. That’s… disgusting.” Embarrassing, shameful, unnecessary, damn near catastrophic if we can’t make the harassment stop. I know if I asked Dad, he’d just tell me to shut up and sit pretty. I’m not doing that again. Orworse, he’d somehow manage to convince me that going back to George is my only option. And I’m not doingthateither.
The inbox pings again—another subject line with my name and the wordsrugby goddess let me comfort you.
“If I do nothing?”
She shrugs. “I’m not one hundred percent sure because I called you in to get ahead of it. But if I were to guess? Statements made, disciplinary reviews, maybe even a temporary benching until this dies down.”
My worst nightmare.
“Absolute worst case? Team sponsors could threaten to withdraw funding because of off-field distractions.”
Fuck. I could cost my teammates jobs and sponsorships.
Her phone lights up, and she studies the screen for a beat before her face falls. “It seems George has already gotten ahead of it.”
I reach for it, but she shoos my hand away. “What does it say?” My pulse races, there’s a bead of sweat slithering down the back of my neck, and my leg is bouncing so hard under the table my knee cracks on the wood.
“He’s the victim, as expected.” There’s something in her eyes that makes me push harder.
“What else?”
She shakes her head. “You don’t need to know the details.”
Like that’s going to work. Despite the swell of nausea in my gut, I jerk my chin at her to continue.
“That’s the main narrative of the article, but there are other pieces scattered in to make it salacious enough that people cling to every word.” Her voice softens. “He says you can’t date a woman who’s tougher than you because she treats sex like a training session. That you asked him to do things no normal man would do. That everyone in the locker room walks on eggshells around you because you think you’re better than everyone else. That you undermine Elizabeth’s leadership because you think you should be captain.”
Each sentence feels like a slap across the face. “Oh my God. He didn’t.”
