Page 89 of Playboy Pitcher

Great.More reality psychobabble. “I believe that’s lemonade.”

Smirking, she taps the screen again. “Her nine-hundred-million-dollar net worth says differently.”

“Someone leaked our marriage certificate, not a sex tape.”

Emma shrugs, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. “You’re Roger Mays’s daughter. The media will still chew you up and spit you out.” She pauses, casting a sharp glance out of the corner of her eye. “Unless you take the first bite.”

Take the first bite.

I think of the morning I arrived at the stadium to find the sidewalk flooded with land sharks just waiting to sink their teeth into a news bite. They blindsided me, putting me on the defensive and commanding the upper hand. They controlled everything from the tone to the narrative.

Control the narrative.

That’s it. They drove the narrative because they controlled the story. But what if that power is taken away? What if I take control?

Launching myself across the couch, I tackle her in a gigantic hug. “Em, you’re brilliant.”

“I am?” she croaks, prying my arms away from her neck. Leaning back, she stares at me suspiciously while fighting a grin. “I mean, duh.”

Jumping off the couch, I resume my pacing, stopping only long enough to grab my phone off the cushion and my bag from the floor. “I know how to save the team and our reputations.”

But he’s not going to like it.

Turning my backpack upside down, I dump everything out, strewing it all over the floor until I find what I’m looking for.

A plain white business card.

My fingers shake as I call the number listed on the card. I make it four more paces before she answers. Taking a deep breath, I bare my teeth and take the first bite. “Hi, Miss Stokes, this is Willow McBaine. I’m ready for that comment now.”

* * *

He’s not here yet.

He’s not coming, a voice inside my head warns.He’s deserting you just like all the rest. Sooner or later, everyone leaves.

“No…” I bite out between clenched teeth. That’s fear talking. I won’t let it win this time. It doesn’t matter if Ben shows or not. If this goes up in flames, so be it. At least I’m finally taking a stand.

Smoothing a hand down my black pants, I blow out a calming breath. It doesn’t help. The moment I take one step toward the closed conference room door, my stomach performs a complete gymnastics routine. A voice in the back of my head warns me I’m making a huge mistake, but I shove it in a box and lock it away.

“It’s too late now,” I whisper to myself. “Leap. Just leap.” Lifting my chin, I square my jaw and make it a few more steps before a hand clamps down onto my shoulder.

“Willie, what are you gettin’ ready to do?”

Although Hoyt’s face is a friendly one, I still don’t turn around. I can’t. Not now. “Tell the truth.”

“And then lie to the media?”

It has been thirty-six hours since the news broke. You’re damn right, I am.

“They’re not idiots, Hoyt. I married Ben two days after discovering Drake was my only out. It’s hard to argue the facts.” When his hand tightens, I straighten my spine, reinforcing my plan. “I’ll make them all sign NDAs. I’m doing this forthem anyway. You know as well as I do Drake will have them all fired within ten minutes of gaining control.”

Dropping his hand from my shoulder, Hoyt moves in beside me and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Willie, how long have we known each other?”

“Twenty years.”

“Have I ever given you any reason not to trust me?”

“No.”