Page 14 of Power Play
I narrow my eyes. “If you say ‘throuple,’ I’m leaving.”
She chokes on her drink, laughing. “Not that. Although Dylan’s been trying to convince Murphy to take up pottery just so he’ll stop brooding at training. It’s haunting.”
“Mia.”
“Right.” She leans forward, dropping her voice as though we’re planning a heist.
“Murphy’s agent had a little chat with him after the gala.”
“About his poor taste in party crashers?”
“Worse. About his image. Apparently, his sponsors are concerned.”
I raise a brow. “About what? His hair being too shiny or his teeth being too sparkly?”
“About him being too single.”
I blink. “I’m sorry, what?”
“They’re pushing this narrative of Murphy as the lovable rogue turned responsible icon of the sport. Big comeback, heartthrob with a heart of gold, all that jazz. But the tabloid thing? Not exactly wholesome. And if he doesn’t play along, there’s talk of pulling some of his sponsorship.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Mia shrugs. “Welcome to PR hell. Anyway. The agent suggested he be seen with a ‘steady girlfriend.’ A proper, sweet, charming one. Someone the press can’t twist.”
I feel a slow, sinking dread. “Mia.”
She holds up her hands in mock-innocence. “I’m just saying,ifsomeone were to step in and play the part, temporarily, of course, it could buy him some time.”
“No.”
“It’d be fake. Harmless. A few appearances. Maybe some hand-holding.”
“No.”
“And think about it, he already likes you. The chemistry’s off the charts. You banter like you’re in a screwball rom-com. You wore his hoodie like a security blanket. Plus, you don’t care about fame, so you wouldn’t sell the story. You’re perfect.”
“I said no.”
“You didn’t say it very convincingly.”
I glare at her. “I’m not going to be some fake girlfriend-for-hire just to make Murphy look like a golden retriever in a relationship so his bloody sponsors don’t pull his cash.”
She sips her coffee. “You think he’s a golden retriever?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Sophie.”
“No.”
Mia leans back. “Fine. But let me just say one thing, if someoneelsesteps in to do it, someone who doesn’t know him, doesn’t understand his moods or his idiotic ways, someone who’s just using him for exposure… how’s that going to feel?”
I hate how much I already know the answer.
Because the idea of Murphy walking red carpets with some influencer who calls herself ‘spiritual but also savage’ makes my stomach twist. The idea of him laughing with someone else, of his arm slungcasually around someone else’s waist, it makes me feel something very inconvenient and very not-fake.
Mia sees it. She always sees it.
