Chapter 32
Zaila
The Houston humidity caused my hair to poof and my eyes to burn before I’d even pushed through the Wildcatters office’s glass doors on Monday morning.
I adjusted my tote on my shoulder, my muscles tender from the tension that had ratcheted up with each day back in Houston.
I missed Sweden, the sauna, and not worrying about what people thought of me.
All of that had been easier to hold at bay while my mother was alive—while someone in this world loved me, knew me, and understood I’d never seek a rich, powerful man for his riches or his power.
My grief surged, still raw and jagged as a broken skate blade. I’d struggled to force it down so I could return to the rhythm of work. My mother would have wanted that. “Live, Zaila. Don’t let me hold you back.” Mom’s words swirled through my head as I headed down the hallway.
“Morning, Z,” Jay called from the cluster of desks that formed the social media bullpen in the center of the floor.
He was too chipper, his smile a touch too wide.
“Enjoy your vacation with the big boss man? Would have been nice if you’d told me, your actual boss, that you were taking vacation time you haven’t yet earned. ”
I closed my eyes and swallowed. “I buried my mother last week, Jay.” My voice was low, my throat raw as I fought the tears that pressed against my eyes. “I’m sorry about the short notice. I… It never crossed my mind.”
“Your mom?” For a moment, Jay’s expression softened, but then he lifted his chin. “Yeah, well, you should have. Since this is a workplace, and I’m your boss.”
Tim came around the corner in time to hear those last words, and his expression turned murderous.
He shoved himself between the two of us and wrapped me in a hug.
“I’m so sorry about your mother, Z. Paloma stopped by and let us know what happened—well, those of us who were here.
Jay’s been taking long lunches.” He shot Jay a glare as he placed his hands on my shoulder. “You okay? Ready to be back?”
No, I wasn’t, and all I wanted to do was turn around and go back to Gunnar’s house. Instead, I offered Tim a smile and nodded. “Can’t wait.”
He stayed at my side as I booted up my laptop and opened the dashboard. “What’s all this?” I asked. “I didn’t set up anything last week…”
I frowned as I skimmed the engagement numbers. After reading through the analytics, I froze.
The top-performing content wasn’t A Day in the Life. It wasn’t the nutritionist highlight I’d stayed up half the night editing. It wasn’t the heartfelt clip about the team’s anti-hate initiative.
It was Jeff.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Tim circled my desk and studied my screen.
There were dozens of posts, an entire string of clips and carousels featuring the cocky rookie: Jeff laughing in the locker room, Jeff practicing extra drills, Jeff grinning with kids at a youth skate event.
My Wildcatters header graphic—mine—now showed Jeff dead center, bigger than even Cormac, the captain.
My throat dried. I had made none of those edits. I hadn’t been in the office. I hadn’t had my laptop.
“Jay?” Tim called. “Did you queue all these Jeff posts?”
He ambled over, coffee in hand. “Hmm? Oh, yeah. Jeff’s content has been fantastic lately. Fans love him.”
“I never signed off on this,” I said, meeting his eyes.
He shrugged. “It’s all Wildcatters footage. It’s fair game.”
“But the balance—” My pulse kicked hard. “This looks like…like a personal rebrand. He’s front and center on every channel. That’s not how we—”
“Relax.” Jay sipped his coffee. “You’re making him look good. That’s our job, right? Elevating players. And you happen to be the best at it.”
I stared at him. Making him look good? This wasn’t elevating—it was spotlighting one player at the expense of the team. Gunnar would hate it.
My phone buzzed on the desk. A text from Ida Jane lit the screen:
What’s going on? Everyone’s saying you’re Jeff’s PR girl now. Call me.
Before I could respond, a shadow cut across my desk.
“Ms. Monroe.”
My stomach dropped. Natalie.
“Ms. Patel,” I managed. My throat felt full of glass shards.
“Conference room. Now.” Tim moved to follow, but she held up her hand. “This is between Ms. Monroe and me.”
“Oh, I’m coming along,” Jay said, his expression gleeful.
The short walk felt like a perp march. The other staff on the floor pretended to be busy, but their sidelong glances burned. Inside the glass-walled conference room, Natalie didn’t sit. She stood at the head of the table, shoulders squared, jaw tight. Jay closed the door with theatrical care.
“I’ll be direct,” Natalie said, her voice cold enough to frost the glass. “Why am I hearing that one of my interns is running a shadow campaign to rehabilitate Jeff Cross’s reputation?”
My knees almost buckled. “What? No. That’s not—”
Natalie cut me off with a raised hand. “The board flagged it this morning, and Mr. Evaldson is currently doing damage control. Engagement numbers spiked around Jeff. A suspicious concentration. Sponsors are asking why one untested rookie is suddenly the face of the franchise.”
Was this why Gunnar hadn’t told anyone about us?
He must have known about these posts. Maybe he thought I’d done it to…
I couldn’t think of why. Spite him? No, he knew me better than that.
I needed to talk to him. I reached for my phone, but at Natalie’s sharp grunt, I pulled my hand back. “That’s not—”
“Then explain this.” Natalie slid a packet of printouts across the table. Hashtags. Clips. Graphics. My admin login had been used to credit every single one during the past week, while my laptop sat on my desk here and I was in Sweden.
My breath stuttered. I flipped through them with trembling fingers. The timestamps matched nights I’d been at my mother’s bedside, then in Sweden with Gunnar. “Let me just contact Gunnar,” I said.
Natalie made an impatient noise, seeming surprised when I pulled out my cell phone. When Gunnar didn’t answer, I sent him a message.
Natalie had said he was with the board. He’d get back to me, soon, and all of this would get cleared up. I sucked in a breath, calming myself so I could answer Natalie rationally.
“Yes, I gave Zaila Jeff’s account, but it appears she’s running a personal PR campaign for him on Wildcatters channels,” Jay said with a smile. “That would be…a serious conflict of interest, wouldn’t it?”
“That’s not true!” my voice cracked. “I never made these. Someone’s using my login. I haven’t even been in the office for the past week.”
That someone was obviously Jay. He’d said as much when Tim asked him a minute ago, hadn’t he? God, how could I have considered him my friend? Given him the benefit of the doubt so many times?
Natalie’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re saying your credentials were compromised?”
“Yes. I was out of the country with Gunnar, on bereavement leave.” I raised my gaze. “We left the day after my mother’s funeral.” Jay’s expression was unreadable, but something hard flickered in his eyes. “I didn’t have my computer because it all happened so suddenly.”
“From where I’m standing? The evidence still points to you,” Natalie said.
“And evidently you have a close relationship with the team owner, so this is a very, very bad look, Ms. Monroe.” She leaned closer.
“Gunnar’s going to be censured over this, maybe fined.
You will be, too. It will not be pretty, which means my entire team will work ‘round the clock to fix your mistake.”
Natalie turned to Jay. “And you—you were supposed to supervise this young woman, which obviously you didn’t do. Not only that, but Mr. Evaldson came to me last week and reported that you were dumping all of your work on Ms. Monroe’s schedule.”
Jay’s mouth dropped open. “That’s not true! I do my work.”
“Apparently, you don’t. Because if you did, I wouldn’t be in here explaining how bad this is for all of us, now would I?”
My chest heaved. Don’t cry. Don’t let them see you break. “Ms. Patel,” I said, forcing each word past my raw throat. “I would never compromise the team. Never. My work, my loyalty is to the Wildcatters. To Gun—er, Mr. Evaldson.”
Jay’s eyes flared. “The integrity of this organization is not negotiable,” he said. “You’re right, Natalie. I’ll suspend Zaila’s admin access while IT reviews the logs. Until then, you’re relieved of posting duties, Ms. Monroe. In fact, go home.”
The floor tilted under me. Posting was my job. Without it, I was nothing here.
Gunnar, please respond. I need you…
My phone remained silent.
“You’re relieved as well, Mr. Welks,” Natalie said. “I’ll be posting until we can sort this situation out.”
“Me? But—”
“But nothing. As Ms. Monroe stated, she was out of town. All these posts came from her laptop, which was in this building.” Ms. Patel pointed to the IP address.
“If she wasn’t here, which is easy enough to confirm, then you’d better believe I’ll be looking for the real culprit, and I will not be shy about letting the world know exactly what kind of creep would turn their jealousy against someone who’s grieving.
” With that, Natalie turned on her high heels and disappeared.
I raised my gaze from the table to Jay. “I thought we were friends,” I said as I pushed past the emotion choking me.
Jay shrugged as he looked away. “Lydia was right about you. And you were dead wrong about me.”
Back at my desk, I collected the last of my belongings, my skin burning as the security guard stood behind me, watching my every move as if I’d actually do something nefarious.
Still, a stubborn kernel kept expecting Gunnar to step in, to clear this up—to explain that we were together and I’d never betray him or the organization this way.
But what if he didn’t know that? I knew my emotions were spiraling, but I couldn’t seem to bring them down.
Tim stepped into my office—my former office—his face white. “Jay took this too far. I’ll get it sorted. Don’t worry.”
I sniffled and offered him a smile. “I haven’t felt right since my mother died, Tim. Maybe this is fate’s way of telling me I’m not meant to be here.” I nodded to the security guard and headed toward the door.
“You know Gunnar’s upstairs right now, fighting for you,” Tim said.
For a moment that warmed my heart, but then it all crumbled.
I used my shoulder to swipe away the tear on my cheek.
“He shouldn’t have to do that. All I wanted was for my work to stand on its own.
Instead…” I’d made everything so much harder, so much worse.
He was busy doing damage control because of me.
Why had I ever thought we could make this work?
My voice cracked. “I need to go.” Tears streamed down my cheeks, which is why I didn’t see Jay.
I bumped into him as I stepped into the hallway and stumbled back. He gripped my elbows to steady me.
“Don’t touch me,” I snapped. “Don’t ever, ever come near me again.”
“Z—”
“Leave it, Jay,” Tim snapped as we continued down the hall. “I told her to watch out for you, but clearly none of us knew what a true jerk you were. Now, the rest of the team and I will be marching your ass upstairs so you can tell Gunnar exactly what you did.”
“I didn’t do anything—”
“Then it won’t be hard to explain your weekly lunches with Lydia Flores or Jeff Cross—”
“Are you spying on me?” Jay cut across Tim’s tirade.
I frantically pressed the elevator button.
“I didn’t have to,” Tim replied. “Everyone knows you’ve had it out for Zaila since the mascot—”
I stepped in, and the elevator closed behind me, so I didn’t hear the rest of that argument. Just as well. I was too busy falling apart.