Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
The room freezes with that unexpected response.
From behind the rows of press, Rina’s head jerks up. She’s half-hidden near the back, tablet hugged against her like a shield. Her dark hair slips forward, but it’s her eyes that hold my attention.
They’re wide and filled with shock.
“She’s not ready to make it public yet,” I continue. “Although, I’m all in and have been for a while where this woman is concerned.”
The silence lasts for exactly one beat before it detonates. Voices erupt and questions fly from every direction as camera shutters snap in rapid succession.
“Is she with the organization?”
“Is it Gabby Wellington?”
“Oliver, are you confirming a relationship with Gabby?”
“Is it someone else?”
They’re shouting over one another now. It’s a wall of noise that closes in on me.
Zane clears his throat and leans into the mic, trying to recapture their attention. “Just in case anyone forgot, I got engaged. And my new show—”
But no one’s listening as every lens and flash stay trained on me.
The color drains from Rina’s cheeks before flooding back in a rush. Even from here, the tremor in her hand where it grips the tablet is unmistakable. Her gaze darts toward the door, as if she’s mapping out an escape route. She presses back against the wall as her eyes remain locked on mine. There’s panic, disbelief, and beneath it all, something that’s raw.
I don’t move.
Instead, I let the storm build and take me with it.
This time, there’s no hiding.
I catch the blur of movement as she turns away, shoulders squared, chin held high. The only sign she’s rattled is the tightness of her jaw. A flash pops and catches her profile just before she disappears behind the curtain.
That image sears itself into my head as the moderator tries to restore order, but it’s useless.
I lean back in my chair, a slow curve tugging at the corner of my mouth.
As far as I’m concerned, I just put that woman on notice.
Rina Reynolds can run all she wants, but I’m done pretending or playing games. She knows exactly how I feel. The next move is hers to make.
17
Rina
I stand at the back of the room beside Evelyn and Hugh, the tablet clutched in my fingers.
For days, I’ve been avoiding Oliver. Dodging his calls, leaving his messages unread, convincing myself distance was self-preservation. Safer than the truth I refuse to name.
That lie worked fine until now.
Until he’s in front of me.
He sits at the table with his teammates, broad shoulders filling out his suit, command radiating off him in heavy waves. The drone of reporters blurs around me. Every inch of him feels larger than life, and I hate that my chest still reacts as if he’s the only one in the room.
I look anywhere but at him—at the wires knotted beneath the table, the scuffed tile, the blinking red lights from the cameras. No matter where I aim my gaze, it keeps drifting back to him. Every time I glance up, I find him already watching me.
Unflinching and unapologetic.
The press conference hums with routine questions about team depth, the season outlook, and locker room chemistry. The players give polished, practiced answers. It’s a pattern I know by heart.
Then it’s Oliver’s turn.
He leans toward the mic, forearms flexing against the charcoal gray fabric of his suit. The room seems to lean with him, and that invisible thread between us pulls tight.
“Oliver,” a reporter calls. “Would you like to comment on your personal life? You’ve been keeping a low profile lately.”
The question hits like a ton of bricks.
He’s always been unpredictable. Reckless when cornered, brutally honest when silence would be the safest route to take. My hand curls around the tablet as I brace for his response.
His eyes find mine. “Actually,” he admits, “there is someone.”
My stomach hollows.
“She’s not ready to make it public quite yet,” he continues, leaning even closer to the mic. “Although, I’m all in and have been for a while where this woman is concerned.”
The room explodes.
Flashbulbs pop and white light sparks at the edges of my vision. Reporters surge forward, their voices overlapping in a rush of sound.
“Is she with the organization?”
“Is it Gabby Wellington?”
“Oliver, are you confirming a relationship with Gabby?”
“Is it someone else?”
The noise folds over itself until it’s impossible to tell one question from the next.
Heat floods my face as my fingers dig deeper into the tablet.
Evelyn turns toward me, brows lifting. “Did you know about this?” she whispers. “Who do you suppose he’s talking about?”
Even though I open my mouth, nothing comes out. My throat feels raw and scraped dry. The truth hovers like a confession pressing against my teeth. If anyone stares too hard, they’ll see it written across my face.
I force out a short laugh that sounds strained even to my own ears. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
Evelyn studies me for a beat longer before turning back to the frenzy now unfolding at the front of the room. Hugh’s hand settles lightly at her elbow.