Page 54 of Irresistibly Risky

“It’s not my doctor,” I clip out. “Dr. Hathaway would never do that.”

“Okay,” Jean says, backpedaling. “Then not her. But the point is, we don’t know who leaked it.”

“It had to be someone who benefits from the press knowing,” Hunter growls—since he always growls—into the speaker. “Who could that be?”

“Leo comes to mind” I answer easily because that’s true.

“Maybe,” he agrees. “I’ll look into it.”

And I’ll have Lenox look into it as well because he has ways of getting information no one else does. Because if I learn it’s Leo—

“Great,” Freddy chimes in, cutting off my thoughts. “Moving on. When is the press conference? I’m assuming we now need to do one before Monday, which means I need to go shopping ASAP for the perfect outfit.”

“I think it needs to be tomorrow morning,” Jean states emphatically.

“I agree,” Hunter declares. “News is buzzing, and the speculation is rampant. We need to get a grip on this before it spins even more out of control. We’ll call a press conference for tomorrow at the stadium.”

“Wow, you agreeing with me is a first,” Jean smarts.

“A first, and likely a last.”

I roll my eyes Wynter style. “Let’s not start with this. I agree we should do a press conference tomorrow. Freddy, that means I’m wearing what I already own. The team leaves tomorrow for Houston, so it’ll be quiet there. They won’t be able to get any immediate soundbites from anyone.”

“Right. Good.” Hunter clears his throat. “Then you need to be seen out tomorrow night.”

I lean back in my chair, the leather creaking beneath my weight. “What do you mean by out? I’m supposed to be recovering from surgery.”

“I’m not suggesting you go clubbing or anything, but fans need to see you’re out and doing well. A quiet dinner somewhere. We need to believe you will, in fact, be back this season. Hiding away suggests the opposite.”

“I hate to agree with your agent because I won’t be starting that trend, but yes, you need to be seen out and looking healthy.”

“Fine. I’ll get the guys and we’ll—”

“No,” Hunter cuts me off. “With a woman. Go out with a woman. You haven’t been photographed with one in a while, and we can move the talk from your shoulder to a female.”

“Um. No.” I glance toward my open doorway, thinking of Wynter. I’d love to take her out to a quiet dinner. Hell, I’d love to take her out to a rowdy dinner with Mason, but not only would she never agree to the date, but the reasons I can’t date her in public are also numerous. And now that my face is front-page news, it’s even riskier to be seen with her. I’m glad they moved in. Hell knows how else I’d be able to make seeing my son work.

“Yes.” Hunter is adamant. “Go out with a woman. Have dinner with her. Fuck her or not, but let the press see that you’re feeling good enough to be with someone, and let that someone churn the gossip mill into off-the-field talk.”

“I don’t even know who I’d ask, and I’d rather not use a woman I’ve had a thing with in the past. I’d need someone new, and I don’t have anyone new.” Because I haven’t dated anyone in a while, and the only woman who is new in my life is the one woman I can’t have on my arm. Even if she’s the only one I want there.

“I have someone,” Freddy states, but I can hear the discomfort in his voice. He knows about Wynter. He knows I moved her in here, but I haven’t told my agent or my PR person yet because I’ve heard of things like that getting leaked as well, and though I trust them, I don’t trust them enough to risk my son or Wynter. Especially if they’re looking for something to take the heat off my shoulder, and my future on the team.

“Who is someone?” I question, tapping my fingers impatiently on my desk.

“A model slash influencer. Beautiful with a big following on Instagram and TikTok. She’d be perfect. She’d take a selfie and post it and it would likely go viral, and then boom, your shoulder is no longer front-page news. You can deny any relationship and simply blow it off, but as much as I hate to agree, I think a date could help.”

“Hell, get yourself laid.” Hunter chuckles into the phone, and I groan. The last thing I plan to do is fuck some influencer-model chic.

“Okay,” I grumble reluctantly. “Set it up.”

I have a bad feeling I’m going to regret this.

15

I shouldn’t be angry. I shouldn’t be surprised or annoyed or ready to flip off the world and scream, I told you so. Asher is exactly who I thought he was. A man who would say anything to get what he wants while planning dates with beautiful models at the same time. Now I’m living in his house. His house. I moved my stuff in yesterday.

What if he brings her home? What if they hit it off and start dating?

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