“You called him a fossil–”
“I know what I said,” I snapped. “I–” I cleared my throat. “I was wrong.”
Silence stretched between us.
The camera light blinked red—still rolling.
I sat back, smoothing my notes even though I didn’t need them. My pulse was racing, but my voice hadn’t cracked once. I met Ryder’s stare, cool and unapologetic.
“Next question?” I asked.
His jaw ticked. “Right. Of course.”
But we both knew the momentum had shifted.
He could try to paint me as emotional. He could try to turn Kieren into a tabloid storyline. But facts were stubborn. And I’d just thrown them like punches.
This segment wasn’t about optics anymore.
This was about truth. And I wasn’t backing down.
I barely had time to breathe after defending Kieren’s stats before Ryder’s smirk shifted—familiar, calculating.
“So,” he said, tone oozing fake curiosity, “how did all this start? You and Kieren Walker. That kiss looked… intense.”
I froze.
My tongue scraped the roof of my mouth, useless. I could feel every eye in the studio on me, even the ones behind the glass, and I had nothing. No PR line. No clever quip. Just the truth sitting like a live wire under my skin.
I opened my mouth to speak—God knows what I would’ve said—but a voice beat me to it.
“I told her she had terrible taste in players. She took it personally.”
I turned sharply.
There he was—Kieren—in a charcoal blazer and that smug, smirking mouth. A bouquet of wildflowers dangled in his hand, somehow both casual and lethal. The set went quiet for half a beat as he crossed the floor like he owned it.
“Looked like she needed rescuing,” he added, walking straight toward me.
My heart stuttered. I didn’t even know if it was from the shock or the fact that he looked stupidly good under studio lights. He sat beside me without asking, slid an arm around the back of my chair like he’d been doing it for years, and set the flowers in my lap like a mic drop.
I knew—knew—Cam had orchestrated this. PR gold, he’d called it. Of course he had.
But Kieren? He looked relaxed. Dangerous. Like he was enjoying every second of this.
Ryder blinked, recovering with a tight smile. “Well. That’s quite the entrance.”
Kieren shrugged. “She deserves more than secondhand gossip and clickbait questions.”
Oh. Oh no. He was going to burn the whole set down, wasn’t he?
Ryder straightened in his chair, eyes narrowing. “So is this official? Or just another media distraction?”
Kieren leaned in, resting his hand on my knee. “Is that what it looks like to you?”
Ryder’s smile tightened. “I just mean—public affection doesn’t always equal real connection.”
“You’re right,” Kieren said smoothly, not missing a beat. “But we’re not just public. We’re private too. And it’s real—no matter how uncomfortable that makes you. Or anyone, for that matter."
