Page 74 of The Penalty

Xavier didn’t say anything. He just rubbed his thumb on his lip. Normally, the movement was sexy and deliberate. Not this time. He did it mindlessly, almost as though he was trying to figure something out.

“Would you consider letting me arrange for you to have a—”

“A babysitter?” I cut in. “Like Hannah? No.”

“I think it would be a good idea.” His tone hardened.

“No,” I snapped at him, immediately regretting it. I looked down, taking a deep breath. “You and Bennet have tried before and I appreciate you both but I don’t want a bodyguard or security detail or any of that.”

A piercing blue stare was his only response. Not how I wanted this call to go at all.

“Xavier,” I softened my tone. “Promise me.”

“I promise, love.”

Monday was a complete shit show.

One of the more tabloid-centric sports websites posted a rumor that Noah put his house on the market. Photos of his Manhasset home with a ‘for sale’ sign in front of it accompanied the story.

“It’s fake.” Noah paced around the media room. He was still dressed in his workout gear from this morning’s practice. “I’m not moving. I don’t even know where those pictures came from. Look.” He pulled out his phone and showed me the screen. “This is my front yard right now from the security cameras. No signs. Nothing.”

He was right. The yard was empty.

“Okay.” I rubbed my temples. “Glen, see if you can connect with someone at the website. Maybe they’re feeling generous and will let you know where they got their information.”

“On it.” Glen went back to his office.

“This is fucked up,” Noah grumbled. “I’m going to be asked about it nonstop all week.”

“You know the drill. I’ll put together a statement for all the socials. Try to echo the sentiment as much as possible.”

He rolled his eyes. “The usual shit? I’m the Legends quarterback…we’re looking forward to another successful season…”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t hate me if I go off-script a bit.”

“Depends on what you say. Be smart about it.”

An aggravated grunt was his parting reply.

Tuesday coasted by without any major incidents. Noah handled the press with politeness, grace, and charm, like I knew he would. After some digging, and with the assistance of a few people in our tech department, the photos were deemed artificially generated.

Ethan called a meeting with Hannah and I. On top of all the other potential media-related problems we had to deal with, now we could add computer generated pictures to the list.

I passed along the directive to the social media team to be on alert for anything suspicious.

Wednesday announced itself without much fanfare. By lunchtime, I relaxed into the idea this would be just another boring day. The number of emails and phone calls I’d received about the Noah situation died down considerably.

News cycles were funny things. One minute, everyone’s ravenous over a story. Then, they get distracted by the next big, shiny object. Nobody seemed to care much about the fake photos anymore. All the sports media outlets were now enamored with a baseball team accused in a sign-stealing scheme.

“Hey,” Hannah poked her head into my office. “Feel like grabbing some dinner? Or do you have plans?”

“Plans?” I paused for dramatic effect. “Yeah. I’m having a forbidden affair with my couch.”

“Oh please. That outfit and those heels need some attention. Let’s go to Ghost. Their food is supposed to be outstanding.”

Ghost was the trendy new place to see and be seen in lower Manhattan. All the influencers liked to post about it. Plus, several players enjoyed hanging out there. Jax and Dante were notorious for posing with the owner every time they showed up.

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