Devin cleared his throat. “Let’s not turn this into a scene?—”
“Too late,” Carrie interrupted, crossing one leg over the other. “It’s already a headline. Our phones haven’t stopped ringing. Media wants to know if the Howlers are officially courting playoff sabotage.”
“And I’d like to know,” I said crisply, turning to Marchand, “why we’re allowing anopposing team’s PR repto sit in on an internal meeting.”
Marchand exhaled through his nose, clearly annoyed that I hadn’t come in apologizing.
“She’s here because it’s her player being poached.”
“There’s been no poaching,” I said, unflinching. “Unless you’re admitting that Carrie’s client made an offer to ours while still under contract.”
That landed.
Even Carrie sat up a little straighter.
“Rylan,” I added, voice cool, “you still want to play for this team?”
His eyes narrowed, just slightly. “I want to play. Period.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting until I see a contract.”
“Then sit tight,” I said. “And if your agent can’t keep you from leaking sensitive conversations to our rivals, maybe it’s time we reevaluate who should be in this room.”
The temperature dropped by ten degrees.
Marchand looked at me like he couldn’t decide whether to strangle me or thank me. I didn’t care which. I wasn’t here toplease him. One thing he should remember was what he hired me to do. I was here to protect this team, and I’d be damned if I let it fall apart now.
Carrie recovered first. Smooth, confident, a smug little smile that had probably shaken less seasoned PR directors than me.
“You can’t keep him,” she said lightly. “Rylan’s already in breach by holding those conversations. If you were smart, you’d be more worried about damage control than holding him hostage.”
“Hostage?” I tilted my head. “That’s a bold word for a player with a signed, legal contract that runs through the end of playoffs.”
She smiled wider. “Contracts are negotiable. Especially when they’re compromised.”
“Compromised?” I echoed. “Interesting. Since that would require you to admit your player broke protocol first. Are you really planning to go on the record confirming that?”
That shut her up. The room tightened like a rope winding around a throat.
I didn’t stop there.
“Even if the Vultures wanted to terminate his contract today, and I’m not suggesting that’s even on the table,” I added, glancing briefly at Rylan, “league rules clearly state nonewteam agreement can take effect until after the season concludes. No matter how you spin it, he’s yours until then.”
The silence crackled.
It didn’t just cut Carrie off at the knees—it took the legs out from under Rylan, too.
His agent, Devin, let out a bitter scoff. “Unbelievable.You’rethe one who made the approach, Marchand. Don’t act like we started this dance.”
All eyes turned toward Marchand.
His jaw worked, fury creeping into his expression. “Watch your mouth, Hart.”
“You told me there was interest,” Devin snapped, “you brought Rylan into it?—”
“I said there was a conversation,” Marchand growled. “And it wasyourclient who showed up in my office ready to jump ship the moment the Vultures hit the bracket.”
