Page 111 of Cold Feet
"Well, you did a helluva job selling it," said Ryan. It sounded a lot more like an accusation than a compliment – rich coming from the certified genius who came up with this disaster-in-the-making in the first place.
I straightened in my chair, professional instincts taking over despite the emotional hurricane inside me. "We'll also need to correct some key misrepresentations in the reporting."
"Such as?" Coach Sully asked.
"For one, we never explicitly claimed to be engaged to the press," I pointed out. "We deliberately avoided using those terms in any official capacity. If you look at the NDA, the words 'engagement' and 'fiance' never appear – because I worded it that way intentionally."
"Why does that matter now?" Ryan asked, frustration evident in his voice.
"Because we haven't lied," I said firmly. "We've allowed assumptions, yes. We've been strategic with our presentation, absolutely. But we've never made false statements to the press or public."
"Will that distinction really help?" Marcus asked.
"It gives us solid ground to stand on," I explained. "And NDAs are standard practice in celebrity relationships – especially when they involve workplace dynamics. There's nothing inherently scandalous about having one."
"They're citing a source inside the Slashers organization," Marcus noted, reading from the article. "That could be anyone from coaching to equipment management to janitors."
My phone buzzed with an incoming call fromESPN. I silenced it, only to have it immediately start buzzing again with calls fromSports Illustrated,The Athletic, and several local stations.
"They're circling like sharks," Ryan muttered. "You need to make a statement before this gets worse."
I felt ill, watchingmy career disintegrate in real time. Everything I'd built, every barrier I'd broken as one of the few female PR directors in the league – all threatened because I'd crossed the line between professional and personal.
"We need to respond," I said, voice steadier than I felt. "I'll draft a statement for the organization refuting the unnamed source's claims..." Professional mode. Just focus on the job. "Cam, we should discuss what you want to say."
Cam nodded.
"Also,HockeyInsider was the original piece, and all the other outlets are running with their reporting so far. They're only quoting one source, which means they couldn't find confirmation. The NDA doesn't stand on its own without a source to tell the story – it looks like every other pro athlete's relationship NDA.
"What does that mean?" Marcus asked.
"If we can discredit the source in time, then the story dies," I say.
While I worked on the draft, my phone continued to light up with notifications. I couldn't help but glance at them.
@RedlineAthletics has officially put their deal with Cam Murphy "under review pending further information" #FakeSlashers
Sources say @LanaDecker masterminded the fake engagement to save Cam's deal after years of promoting his playboy image. Talk about creating a problem to solve it. #FakeSlashers
Montreal reportedly reconsidering trade offer for Murphy after character concerns raised by scandal. #FakeSlashers #NHL
The room felt suddenly airless. Not only was I watching my own reputation implode, but now I might be responsible for destroying Cam's career opportunities as well. The Redline deal. The Montreal trade. All potentially gone because of our fake fucking engagement.
While Marcus read, Katie appeared in the doorway. "More bad news," she said, apologetic. "The story's been picked up by non-sports outlets.TMZ,People,Page Six. They're framing it as 'Hockey's Fake Romance.'"
"Great," Ryan muttered. "Just great." Like he wasn’t warned.
"Thanks, Katie," I said, as I thought about my hard-earned reputation and a decade of 70-hour weeks circling the drain.
"Lana," Marcus's voice broke through my spiral. "You okay?"
"Fine," I lied, passing him my tablet. "Draft statement for your review."
"Lana," Cam said suddenly, standing up. "Can I talk to you outside for a minute?"
Every instinct told me to refuse, to maintain professional distance. But all eyes were on us, so I nodded stiffly and followed him into the hallway.
Once the door closed behind us, Cam rubbed his forehead with his fingers, agitation evident in every movement. "I'm so sorry. This is... I never thought this would blow up like this."
