15. Tessa
TESSA
T he conference room feels like a fucking tribunal, and I'm pretty sure I'm about to be burned at the stake for the crime of wanting to jump my secret husband's bones on a regular basis.
Harrison stands at the head of the table like some kind of corporate dictator, his silver hair perfectly styled and his expensive suit pressed to within an inch of its life. He's got that look.
"Thank you all for gathering on short notice," he begins, his voice carrying that false warmth that immediately puts everyone on edge. "I want to discuss some important updates to our professional standards and organizational policies."
I'm sitting with the coaching staff, trying to look like I give a shit about organizational policies while my heart pounds against my ribs like it's trying to escape.
Three seats down, Dax is stone-faced, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw is clenched tight enough to crack teeth.
"Recently, it's come to my attention that we need to strengthen our commitment to maintaining appropriate professional boundaries," Harrison continues, and I swear he glances directly at me when he says it.
Son of a bitch.
"Effective immediately, we're implementing enhanced protocols to ensure all staff and player relationships remain strictly professional."
Jamie Torres raises his hand. "What kind of protocols, exactly?"
"Excellent question." Harrison clicks to his first PowerPoint slide, because of course he has a goddamn presentation about ruining my life. "First, mandatory reporting of any potential boundary violations observed by staff or players."
A murmur runs through the room. I catch Ethan Chen's eye, and he looks as confused as I feel. This feels extreme even for Harrison.
"Second, immediate termination for any staff member found to be in violation of our no-fraternization policy. No exceptions, no appeals, no second chances."
My mouth goes dry. No appeals. Which means if he decides I've violated policy, I'm fucked with no recourse.
"Third, regular surveillance and monitoring of all team facilities, including video review of areas previously considered private."
"Surveillance?" Martinez speaks up, his voice sharp with irritation. "Tom, these are grown men, not children. We don't need to spy on them."
"We need to protect the organization's reputation and ensure compliance with professional standards," Harrison responds coolly. "Which brings me to point four—implementation of an anonymous reporting system for anyone who observes inappropriate behavior."
The room erupts in low conversations and muttered complaints. I can see several players exchanging worried glances, and more than a few are looking pissed off about the surveillance announcement.
"This is bullshit," someone mutters from the back of the room. I think it's one of the rookies, but I can't tell which one.
Harrison's smile turns predatory. "I understand change can be uncomfortable, but these measures are necessary. Professional objectivity cannot be compromised by personal entanglements."
The phrase makes my stomach churn.
"Furthermore," Harrison continues, clicking to another slide, "we've identified current situations that require immediate corrective action. Boundary violations that threaten team cohesion and professional integrity."
Current situations. He might as well just point at me and Dax and save everyone the suspense.
I risk a glance at Dax, who's gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles have gone white. If Harrison keeps this up, my secret husband is going to lose his shit and probably throw a chair at someone.
"These new policies will help prevent the kind of scandals that have damaged other organizations," Harrison says, his voice getting more self-righteous with each word. "When staff members compromise their professional judgment for personal relationships, everyone suffers."
That's it. I'm done sitting here listening to this asshole lecture us about professional judgment while he builds his case against me.
I stand up, my chair scraping against the floor loud enough to draw every eye in the room. "Mr. Harrison, I have some questions about these new policies."
His expression shifts slightly, but he nods. "Of course, Dr. Bennett."
"First, how do these policies apply equally regardless of gender? Will male staff members face the same scrutiny and consequences as female staff members for personal relationships?"
Several people nod approvingly. It's a fair question, and everyone knows Harrison has a history of being harder on women in the organization.
"Our policies apply to all staff members equally," Harrison replies, but there's an edge to his voice that suggests he doesn't appreciate the implication.
"Second, what safeguards exist to prevent these policies from being used to target specific individuals? How do we ensure that legitimate professional relationships aren't misconstrued as inappropriate based on gender bias or personal vendettas?"
More murmurs of agreement ripple through the room. I can see Martinez nodding, and even some of the players are sitting up straighter, paying attention.
"Our investigation protocols are thorough and unbiased," Harrison says, his smile turning brittle. "We follow evidence, not assumptions."
"And third," I continue, my voice getting stronger, "what appeal processes exist for staff members who feel they're being unfairly targeted? What oversight ensures that policy enforcement doesn't become policy abuse?"
The room goes dead silent. Everyone's looking between Harrison and me like we're in some kind of legal showdown. Which, to be fair, we probably are.
Harrison's facade finally cracks completely. "Dr. Bennett, perhaps you'd be more comfortable discussing specific concerns in private rather than taking up the team's valuable time with hypothetical scenarios."
The dismissive tone in his voice makes something snap inside me.
"I don't think ensuring equal treatment and preventing discrimination are hypothetical scenarios, Mr. Harrison. I think they're fundamental requirements for any fair workplace policy."
"Of course," Harrison replies through gritted teeth. "Perhaps we could schedule a private meeting to discuss your concerns about workplace fairness."
"Actually," Dax's voice cuts through, "I think Dr. Bennett's questions apply to all of us. These policies affect the entire team."
My heart does something complicated when he speaks up. He's not looking at me, maintaining perfect professional distance, but I can hear the support in his voice.
"That's right," Jamie chimes in. "If we're all going to be under surveillance and subjected to anonymous reporting, shouldn't we understand how to protect ourselves from false accusations?"
"Or how to report actual inappropriate behavior without fear of retaliation," Martinez adds, his support clear.
Harrison's face is turning an interesting shade of red. "These questions suggest a fundamental misunderstanding of organizational priorities?—"
"These questions suggest we understand our rights as employees," Dr. Walsh interrupts from across the table. "And frankly, some of these policies feel like overreach."
The room buzzes with agreement. Players and staff are nodding, some voicing their own concerns about privacy and fair treatment. What Harrison clearly intended as a power play is backfiring spectacularly.
"We'll address specific concerns in individual meetings," Harrison announces tersely. "For now, these policies are effective immediately. Meeting adjourned."
As people file out, conversations buzzing with dissatisfaction, Harrison's voice stops me at the door.
"Dr. Bennett. A word."
Fuck. Here we go.
I turn back as the room empties, leaving just Harrison and me.
"That was quite a performance," Harrison says once we're alone, his voice dripping with condescension.
"I was asking legitimate questions about policy implementation."
"You were grandstanding to deflect attention from your own violations."
"I wasn't aware I'd violated anything."
Harrison laughs, but there's no humor in it.
"Dr. Bennett, I've been watching you very carefully since your arrival.
Performance metrics that mysteriously improve when certain players respond positively to you.
Session notes that become less detailed when personal involvement increases.
Social media posts showing you at events with team members. "
"Team events are part of my job?—"
"Leaving the same apartment building as star players at seven in the morning is not part of your job description."
My heart hammers so hard I'm surprised it doesn't echo off the conference room walls. "I fail to see how my residential choices are relevant to my professional performance."
"Don't play games with me, Dr. Bennett." Harrison steps closer, his voice dropping to that intimidating register that probably works on weaker people. "I know exactly what's been going on between you and Kingston."
"And what, exactly, do you think has been going on?"
"An inappropriate personal relationship that compromises your professional judgment and violates team policy."
He is clearly trying to intimidate me, to make me crumble like some delicate flower who can't handle grown-up conversations. Too bad for him, I've been dealing with assholes who think intimidation equals power since graduate school.
"My personal life is none of your business as long as it doesn't affect my work," I say coolly. "And you have no evidence that it has."
"Then you'll be unemployed by Friday, with a reference that ensures you'll never work in professional sports again." His smile is fucking reptilian. "Your choice, Dr. Bennett. Your career or your boy toy."
Boy toy.
Before I can respond, there's a soft knock on the conference room door. Harrison's assistant appears, looking nervous.
"Mr. Harrison? Your three o'clock is here."
"One moment." Harrison turns back to me. "Forty-eight hours, Dr. Bennett. Think carefully about what matters more to you—temporary infatuation or permanent career prospects."
He starts to leave, then pauses at the door. "Oh, and one more thing. Starting tomorrow, I'll be conducting individual meetings with every player on the roster."
"For what purpose?"
"To discuss professional boundaries and appropriate staff interactions.
I'll be asking each player directly about their experiences with our mental performance coaching program.
" His smile returns, colder than before.
"Specifically, whether they've observed any inappropriate behavior from staff members. "
"Some players are very observant," Harrison continues. "We'll see what the players say, won't we?" Harrison steps closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Forty-eight hours, Dr. Bennett. Use them wisely."
He leaves me standing in the empty conference room.
My phone buzzes with a text from Dax:
What did he say to you? Are you okay?
No. I'm definitely not okay. I'm standing in the ruins of my career while the man I love is about to be interrogated about whether he's seen me act like a professional whore.
Fine. Talk later.
I need to get out of here before I do something stupid like cry in a conference room.
I make it to the hallway before the panic really sets in. My breathing gets shallow, my hands start shaking, and I have to lean against the wall to keep from falling over.
I want to fight. I want to stand up to Harrison and his controlling bullshit and prove that love doesn't make me less capable of doing my job.