“Fucking Christ, you don’t think we have enough going on? Have you seen the Lexington Herald? They ran the story online late last night. It’s in today’s paper, and it’s been picked up all over the country.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s a picture of Fin going up the elevator in your building, which for the record isn’t public if you go higher than the first floor. The picture and accompanying story have had over a million views on social media. Outlets are running it beside the story about Uncle Reid.”
“I haven’t seen anything,” I replied honestly.
Fin pushed his phone in front of me. My stomach dropped. There Fin was on the screen, wearing his old Cincinnati Reds ball cap. The caption below read:
* * *
Coopers’ starting quarterback helps football heiress grieve or is there more? Griffin Graham was seen carrying an overnight bag and groceries up a private elevator that leads to Maeve Hubbard’s million-dollar condominium. Is our favorite football sideline heiress getting extracurricular with her players? What is happening now that Daddy is dead?
* * *
Grant was still ranting as the omelet and coffee churned in my stomach. “Fin came by my place to help me bypass the reporters,” I said. “This isn’t news. It’s tabloid gossip.”
“I’m in charge of communications. How the hell am I supposed to spin this?”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t?”
“It’s sensationalism. We haven’t spoken to the press so they’re digging for a story where there isn’t one. Stick to our plan. I’ll be at the football center soon. I’m calling an executive meeting for ten this morning.”
“You’re rushing things with this takeover.”
“It’s not a takeover. The Coopers weren’t stolen nor was there a coup; they were thrust in my lap. I’m not going to let our tragedy take away from the season we started. Dad wanted a Super Bowl ring. I do too. I’ll see you at ten o’clock.” I hit the red icon and turned to Fin. “Shit. Just shit.”
“Now I remember someone calling my name. I looked up. I was wearing the fucking hat to keep a low profile.”
Inhaling, I stepped down from the stool and laid my hand on Fin’s thigh. “I don’t care about Grant or the story. People will believe what they want to believe. I’m not going to let this sidetrack?—”
Fin’s phone vibrated with an incoming call. The name Jackson was on the screen.
“Your agent?”
He nodded. “He must have seen the sensational story.”
“I guess you could ask him if anything has changed now that…” There were too many ways to finish the sentence. “…things have changed.”
“Hey,” Fin said into his phone. “I just saw it.”
Kissing his cheek, I walked back toward the bedroom. I needed to brush my teeth and head over to Maker’s Mark. Fin was still on the phone with Jackson Blanch when I started to leave. As I reached for my keys, I remembered the reporters from last night. One of them took Fin’s picture.
I called down to the concierge’s desk. Jacob answered on the second ring. As soon as I told him my name, he offered to meet me on the seventh floor and get me straight to the garage. “I’m sorry to be a bother.”
“No bother, Ms. Hubbard.”
I disconnected our call as Fin disconnected his. “How did that conversation go?”
“A little different than yours. Jackson already knew about us.”
“What did he say about your contract?”
“He said he’d never had this situation before.”
I smiled, my lips curling. “Yeah, it’s a first for me too.”
