Chapter 12 #2
I think back to the whole mess of last night. The guy slapping my ass, then grabbing my wrist while he laughed, slurring some apology with his hand still clamped around me, his friends egging him on and telling me to lighten up, not be so uptight.
By all rights, it should be the memory consuming me this morning, but somehow it isn't. The aftermath has been so deafening that it's managed to drown out the initial trauma entirely.
"Yeah, I actually feel weirdly okay," I say, swirling what's left of my tea.
"I filed a report last night, so hopefully that asshole actually faces something for it.
And I dunno, after so many years of handling creeps in this job, this kind of thing doesn't knock me sideways the way it used to. Which is its own depressing thought."
“It's vile.” Celeste shakes her head, her expression going dark. "And it says everything about the world we live in that it's even that common."
"Agreed. Personally, I'd love to drop-kick that prick and his sad little friends," Sabrina says, flexing her fingers.
Then she tilts her head and smiles. "Okay.
Serious question, though. Cillian flying off the ice to defend your honor.
Was it maybe a little bit hot? Watching him punch the guy for putting his hands on you? "
I roll my eyes. "Sabrina. You know I hate violence. And I don't buy into this whole archaic, men-charging-in-like-knights, defending-a-woman's-honor thing. He might've blown up his entire career over it. I'm apparently the lead story on every sports site in the country right now."
She just stares at me, one eyebrow arched.
"Ugh, fine. It was kind of hot, yes," I admit, burying my face in my hands while the three of them dissolve into laughter.
Isabelle dabs at the corners of her eyes, breathless from laughing. "Half the office will be pitying you over the creep, the other half will be just jealous that Cillian O'Rourke himself jumped off the ice for you."
"Yeah, well. I'd love to call out, but even going in late is a stretch for me, and I need to check in with Carol. I'm sure the board is losing its collective mind." I sigh, reaching for my mug. "I'll deal with the whole Cillian thing later."
"Look, just give it a few days for the media storm to die down.” Celeste says, catching my eye.
“Then you two can meet up with no cameras, no work obligations, and see if there's something worth exploring there.
Just let the dust settle for a bit. You don't have to do anything you aren't ready for today. "
"The board wants you to accompany Cillian to Ireland tomorrow," Carol says, her expression uncharacteristically grave as she studies me from across her desk.
“What!?” I say in a breathless rush, my composure practically disintegrating.
I've only just arrived at work, and it's been less than twenty-four hours since Cillian punched a creep on my behalf, fucked me hard enough to make me see stars, and set off a media firestorm that's had the news calling me everything from a gold-digging puck bunny to a calculating opportunist since dawn.
I’m feeling more than a little fragile.
"I'm sorry. I can push back.” She gives me a sympathetic look.
“I honestly wasn't sure if you'd view getting out of the country as a relief or a burden.
Since Cillian's on suspension, part of his image repair is going to a charity thing in Ireland.
Dublin then a day in Galway. I guess he originally couldn't make it because of the playoffs, but now... "
I simply nod, my mind frozen as I try to process the audacity of the universe.
"And, well, the board believes your presence would provide good optics, considering you were at the center of the storm, not that any of this is your fault.
" Carol emphasizes that part. "They want to make a substantial donation too, so Solstice appears as a supportive partner in this mess.
Marketing is currently spiraling about the brand ambassadorship. We're in full damage control mode."
I rub my temple, feeling a fresh headache brewing. "So they want to ship me to Dublin with him for a public relations tour?"
Carol nods, tapping her pen against the edge of my desk.
"Just for a few days. Your own hotel, obviously.
Then some media engagements and a few charity appearances.
The angle is: while we don't condone violence, we take the safety of women seriously, he's remorseful and all that predictable PR spin. "
I nod, staring out the window at the rows of vines stretching toward the hills. I don't know what's worse, the overwhelm of doing all of this in front of a foreign press corps, or pang of disappointment I felt when she said your own hotel.
Ugh. I’m not thinking straight.
"Listen," Carol says, her voice softening. "If you don't feel comfortable, I will fight the board on this. I'll throw whatever weight I have around, alright? You just say the word."
I smile a little. Carol came tearing back from the marketing photo op last night and found me in the stands within minutes of the chaos, ready to throw hands with those drunks herself. She's a tough boss, but she's always been in my corner, and I know she'd go to war with the board to protect me.
"No, I..." I pause, weighing the terrifying possibilities of what could happen. "I'll do it. I'll go to Ireland."