Page 52 of Offside Secrets
Right. Game face, Mahoney. No flinching, no comment, no panic. Just the cool, calm professionalism of someone whodefinitelydidn’t kiss her captain behind a closed door.
However, the second I step foot in the arena, I’m ambushed.
“Ms. Mahoney, a word?”
It’s Harold. Of course it’s Harold. He’s flanked by two other board members like he’s forming a firing squad, their ties crooked with self-importance. Their expressions scream grave emergency. And I think my name is chiseled into the tombstone.
I paste on my best smile, the one that could charm a shark. “Gentlemen. Lovely to see you. Did you miss me that much?”
Harold clears his throat. “We’ve seen the blogs.”
Ah. There it is.
I tilt my head, feigning innocence. “You read gossip blogs now? Harold, I had no idea you were such aDeuxMoienthusiast. Or maybe it’sPage Six?”
No one laughs. Typical.
“You’re jeopardizing the team’s reputation,” he says flatly. “A relationship with a player—even the suggestion of one—opens us to scrutiny. People are talking. Sponsors are uneasy.”
I laugh, airy and dismissive, while my stomach tries to crawl out through my ribcage. “I assure you, the Renegades are not in danger because I once stood near my captain in a photograph.”
“It’s not the picture from the gala we’re talking about,” Harold says.
I purse my lips together and tighten my core, forcing myself to stand even taller in my heels. I’m already a kind of tall woman at five foot seven inches, and this little trick not only gives me more height, but it sends sensations of fire and power through my body. Not sure why it does it, but it does.
“Ah, the grainy picture that’s making the rounds. Where it’s assumed it’s me and Campbell in the shot? That picture?”
Harold and his two buddies nod in agreement, timing each bob of their heads perfectly off the other, as if they’d rehearsed it.
“Well,” I say, pulling my phone out and opening up a blog as well. “This photo could be anyone, really. I see the back of someone’s head, and that could be Campbell…” I pretend-squint, even pulling the phone close to my face like I’m trying to read its fine print. “But really, I just don’t know. With all of our crazy fans, and of course AI, this seems manufactured, don’t you think? I mean, you can’t really tell who these people are, can you?”
Harold stares at me, as if waiting for some kind of big reveal, but I stay the course of gaslighting this man like it’s my new hobby. I’d spent the better part of last night on thephone with Elle getting my head, and story, straight. It comes down to one thing right now.
Deny, deny, deny.
I wait for what seems like an hour for one of this trio standing in my way to make a move, but when they don’t, I do. “So, if that’s all, I’m going to go do things. In my office. We good?”
Harold shakes his head as he looks around the arena and sighs. The other two exchange skeptical glances, but shrug as they turn on their heels and walk away. I step around Harold, heading to the elevator, but he leans closer. “Optics matter, Sutton. Don’t forget that.”
With that, he walks off, leaving me in the hallway with my smile frozen in place and my pulse hammering.
Optics. Always optics. Never mind that I’ve tripled attendance, landed sponsorships out of thin air, and turned the Renegades into the most talked-about team in the league. One blurry picture and a gossip blog headline, and suddenly I’m the problem.
By the time I make it to my office, I’m seconds away from biting into the emergency bag of chocolate chip cookies I’ve got hidden in my desk. Instead, I find Elle and Anna waiting, like twin guardian angels with worse boundaries.
Elle’s perched on my sofa, laptop open, hair pulled into a no-nonsense bun. Anna’s leaning against my desk, flipping through a glossy magazine she absolutely did not pay for.
“What’s wrong?” Elle asks immediately. “You look like Harold just volunteered to pose for the next charity calendar.”
“Worse.” I drop into my chair with a dramatic sigh. “The board cornered me. Gossip blogs. Campbell. Optics.”
Anna lights up like a cat spotting a laser pointer. “So it’s official. You and Captain Delicious are the talk of the town.”
I glare. “In another life, an alternate reality, that would be fun to hear. But not today.”
“Relax.” Anna waves her hand. “We know. But perceptionis reality. And perception is that you’ve got a thing for your player.”
“Which the board thinks is a problem.” Elle shuts her laptop and eyes Anna. “That’s why the plan is to deny it all for now.”
