Page 35 of Tight End
“Good.” He checked something on a notepad, then continued, “Does your relationship with Mr. Shaffer impact your ability to report objectively on him or the rest of the Nighthawks organization?”
I shook my head. “No. I approach every interview the same way—focused, fair, and with integrity. My personal life doesn’t interfere with my professional standards.”
He studied me closely, as though evaluating every nuance of my answer. “If we move you onto the football beat, as we’re considering, are we putting you in a position where outside narratives could undermine your credibility?”
I swallowed carefully, hoping he didn’t notice. “I understand the concern, but I’ve dealt with scrutiny before when covering skaters who I’ve competed against in the past. My reporting will stand on its own.”
Mr. Aldridge leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful rather than accusatory. “This isn’t coming from a place of doubt in your talent. You’ve impressed a lot of people here. But the media landscape is volatile. One viral clip can reshape a narrative overnight. We need to know you can weather that.”
“I can.” I clasped my hands in my lap to keep them steady. “I want the assignment, and I’m prepared for whatever comes with it. Even when some of that volatility comes from inside the network, from people who should be on my side instead of trying to create headlines that don’t exist.”
“We’re well aware of where this noise started, and it will be addressed.” His gaze softened slightly, the closest thing to sympathy a VP was probably allowed to show. “But I still need to ask…are we at risk of a conflict-of-interest situation? Anything that might blow back on the network?”
“Absolutely not. Raiden doesn’t expect special treatment. And I—” My voice wavered, just a fraction. “I’ve worked very hard to be where I am. I wouldn’t jeopardize that.”
I felt my throat tightening, heat building behind my eyes as I cursed pregnancy hormones. I forced a small inhale through my nose, trying to steady myself.
Mr. Aldridge noticed. “Marissa, this isn’t a reprimand. We’re evaluating opportunity versus risk. We simply need to ensure?—”
He didn’t get the chance to finish before the door opened behind me with a decisive click.
Twisting in my seat to see who interrupted our meeting, everything inside me went still.
Raiden stepped into the room like he’d been invited. He didn’t look angry. Or rushed.
Mr. Aldridge straightened in his seat. “Mr. Shaffer, this is a private HR matter.”
“No, this is a private personal matter that’s been dragged into Marissa’s professional life.” Raiden strode toward us. “One in which I’m the only other person who gets to have an opinion.”
“As true as that might be?—”
“You wanted to talk about Marissa’s career.” He moved behind my chair, pausing only long enough to brush a reassuring hand over my shoulder before taking the empty seat beside me. “You deserve the truth from someone who actually knows her.”
His touch grounded me so completely that it almost stole my breath.
“Raiden,” I whispered, panicked and grateful all at once. “You didn’t have to?—”
He interlaced our fingers before turning his attention fully to Mr. Aldridge.
“Let me be clear. Marissa never asked for a single favor from me.”
Mr. Aldridge blinked like he hadn’t expected that to be the opening. “That’s not what we’re?—”
“You wanted to ensure that our relationship doesn’t pose a risk to your network,” Raiden continued, unbothered. “It doesn’t. If anything, Marissa will probably go harder on me than most reporters because she expects the best from me.”
My mouth parted in shock even though he wasn’t wrong.
“There’s no denying she’ll have access to the Nighthawks that nobody else can get,” Raiden added. “But I know her well enough to say without a doubt that she won’t take advantage of it in ways that aren’t ethical. Not because she’s trying to protect the network, but because that’s just who she is.”
My breath caught at the utter certainty in his tone. He really did trust me unconditionally.
“You’ve seen the numbers. Her skating coverage is pulling more views than some of your primetime features.”
Mr. Aldridge’s brows furrowed as though he wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t. “We’re not questioning her talent?—”
“You’re questioning the story around her,” Raiden corrected. “So let’s talk about that too.”
Heat rushed up my neck. The humiliation from last night pulsed under my skin like an emotional bruise.
