I ignore her accusation; that has nothing to do with this. "We were working on mediation," I say, pacing now. "The Olympic Committee was open to a discussion. We were going to fix this without blowing up his trust."
"Natalia," she says, her tone turning clinical, "a ‘source’ isn’t him. It’s a strategic release. VELVT can’t deny internal miscommunication without exposing themselves legally. The narrative shifts the heat off Luka and onto them. That’s a win."
"At the cost of the client’s trust?" I demand. "At the cost of the relationship we were building?"
"We were hired to get him out of trouble," she fired back. "That’s exactly what we did. Gabriella is thrilled. Randolph sees the benefit now that scrutiny is aimed at VELVT instead of Luka. I’m getting my promotion. The firm looks decisive."
"And Luka?" I ask quietly.
"He’ll go back to being the difficult hockey player he’s always been," she says lightly. "The world rights itself."
My throat burns.
"He’s like that because he doesn’t trust anyone," I say. "And now you’ve handed him proof that he shouldn’t."
There’s a pause and then she laughs softly.
"Hold on," Carey says. "I didn’t betray his trust, Natalia. You did that all on your own."
The line goes dead.
I stand there, phone in my hand, trying to breathe through the tightness in my chest.
I didn’t leak the information to the press, but I told her about it when I had sworn to Luka that I wouldn’t tell anyone. I believed she would protect it. I believed she would prioritize the client over the optics, but in doing that, I gave her the weapon.
I pull up flights because I can’t just stay here. I have to get home and convince him to talk to me. I need to make this right, but as I search for flights, I notice that every single one today is booked solid.
The earliest I can leave is tomorrow.
He is already gone, probably sitting on a plane right now, believing every worst fear he confessed to me, and there is nothing I can do about it.
I sink down onto the edge of the bed, the sticky note still sitting on the table like a verdict.
Carey says Congrats.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
LUKA
The first thing I see when I unlock my phone is her name.
Six missed calls and a string of texts.
Please call me. Luka, please.
Then the texts begin to unravel.
I didn’t do this.
I swear I didn’t.
Please let me explain.
I don’t open them. I don’t delete them either, because deleting them would be an admission that they matter, and I have spent my entire life perfecting the art of acting like things do not matter until they stop hurting.
It is easier to stare at the lock screen like it’s a problem I can solve with discipline and distance. It is easier to pretend thisis all just noise. An inconvenience. A small consequence of a mistake I will not repeat.
I shove the phone into the pocket of my jacket as if that ends the conversation.
