Page 146 of Game Misconduct
Her voice is low. “It’s already viral. X, TikTok, IG, Reddit. Buzzfeed’s got a meme up that says‘Finn-tervention Needed.’”
I nod once.
I don’t ask who was supposed to be watching him. I don’t ask why no one stopped it. I don’t ask why my phone wasn’t ringing off the hook two hours ago.
I say the only thing that matters.
“Get PR, comms, legal, Dean, and security.”
Tessa’s already two steps ahead. “They’re on your calendar. War room will be ready in twenty minutes.”
I finally exhale. “You really do love me.”
She hands over the coffee. Black. Extra strong.
I take a sip, then check my phone out of habit.
Nothing.
No text. No warning.
Just silence.
The kind that isn’t neutral—it’s intentional.
And that? That burns more than the video ever could.
I stare down at the screen, thumb hovering like maybe if I tap it again, something will change.
That the name I want to see will light up.
That the man who touched my body like a prayer and kissed me like a fucking war would bother to say something.
But no.
He stayed quiet.
He let me wake up to this—with cameras and chaos and headlines on fire—and didn’t even send a warning shot.
Not even a single damn word.
But what did I expect? The last time we talked two days ago, he made me come, made himself vulnerable, and then I told him I couldn’t do this right now.
What the fuck did I even mean by that?
I tuck the phone away like it doesn’t matter.
Like it’s not a fresh crack in a foundation I already knew better than to build.
Then I straighten my spine, square my shoulders, and take another sip of the coffee that won’t fix any of this.
Time for damage control.
Dean strides into the room like he’s auditioning for a roast special. He’s holding a tablet and grinning like the damn Joker.
“Do we fine him for public indecency,” he says dryly, “or send a thank-you note to Buzzfeed for the free marketing?”
I don’t look up. Just keep reading the internal comms thread on my phone. The messages are coming in too fast to track. Sponsors, media, community partners.
