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I make it through two sentences before reaching for the keyboard. “I’d never say that.”

She leans back to give me access. “Which part?”

“Most of it.”

Lena hides a smile behind her coffee. I delete a paragraph that sounds as though it came from somebody apologizing on behalf of a pharmaceutical company.

The second version swings too far in the other direction, and by the third attempt we’ve stripped away enough corporate language that I can finally read it without wondering who they’re quoting.

Bane sits beside the window, saying very little unless somebody asks him a direct question.

His restraint is almost more distracting than if he’d taken over.

I read the latest version aloud.

“‘Claims that I began a romantic relationship with Bane Wolf while still involved with Spencer Stone are false. My relationship with Spencer ended before my employment at Wolf Shield Technologies began, and my later relationship with Bane developed after I joined the company. Any suggestion otherwise is inaccurate.’”

The communications director watches me. “We can add that you categorically deny any infidelity.”

“I do deny it.”

“Then we should make that explicit.”

I nod. “Add it.”

The final statement is short, clear, and boring enough that nobody should be able to twist much out of it, which is exactly what I want.

Once Communications sends the statement to every reporter who contacted us, there’s nothing left to do except wait, and I’m surprised to discover that the strongest reaction my body can produce is hunger.

I check the clock before looking around the conference room. “Is anyone ordering lunch?”

The Communications director blinks.

Lena laughs from beside the door. “I knew pregnancy would eventually defeat celebrity scandal.”

“I haven’t eaten since nine.”

Bane stands before anyone else can answer. “What do you want?”

I think about it. “Turkey sandwich, with pickles.” I watch him take out his phone before adding, “A lot of pickles.”

Lena laughs beside the door as Bane places the order with enough extra pickles to ensure nobody can accuse him of misunderstanding the assignment.

The room finally feels normal enough that I can breathe.

The story doesn’t disappear that afternoon, but our statement changes it. By the time reporters start comparing dates, enough holes have appeared in the original timeline that the accusations aren’t carrying quite the same certainty.

I stop reading after the fifth article and go back to the vendor schedules waiting on my desk. A product launch doesn’t care who Spencer Stone thinks I slept with.

Bane appears in the doorway and stays there long enough for me to finish the email I’m writing.

“You’re hovering.”

“I don’t hover.”

I send the email and lean back in my chair. “You’re standing in my doorway watching me.”

He comes inside and closes the door behind him.