Chapter Five
Piper
The last man who turned Piper Quinn into a brand had needed two years to destroy her confidence.
Emmett Novak’s agent managed it in eleven words.
“This fake girlfriend story may be worth millions.”
The lake remained calm behind them.
The lanterns continued glowing.
Somewhere across the water, people laughed as if Piper’s first fake date had not just become a business acquisition.
She looked at Emmett.
He had gone completely still, which was impressive considering stillness was already his primary setting.
Graham continued through the speaker. “The offer is not official yet, but the club wants confirmation that the relationship is stable before they move forward.”
Piper’s hand tightened around her phone. “Stable.”
“A poor word choice,” Graham said.
“A revealing one.”
“Piper, I understand how this sounds.”
“Do you?”
Emmett reached for the phone.
She moved it out of his reach.
“No. I would like to hear the rest.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “There does not need to be a rest.”
“There is always a rest. Men rarely say something is worth millions and then stop talking.”
Graham cleared his throat. “The club has concerns about Emmett’s public image.”
“Because he does not smile enough?”
“Because he does not participate.”
“Same crime, fewer teeth.”
“Piper.”
Emmett’s warning came quietly.
She looked at him. “You wanted the truth.”
“I wanted you to know what affects you. I did not want Graham turning this into a pitch.”
“I am not pitching,” Graham said.
“Stop speaking,” Emmett told him.
Piper almost laughed.
Almost.
Graham ignored the instruction. “Emmett has been considered for several professional opportunities. His performance has never been the issue. Teams worry that he is difficult to promote, resistant to press, and disconnected from fans.”
“He is a goalie,” Piper said. “Disconnected is part of the uniform.”
Emmett looked at her.
She refused to find that expression charming.
Graham continued. “The photograph of you together changed the conversation. The public response is unusually strong. People see a side of him they have not seen before.”
“They see his arm around a woman.”
“They see him engaged.”
Piper glanced at Emmett. “He looks engaged?”
“Compared to usual, he looked euphoric.”
“I smiled,” Emmett said.
“Exactly,” Graham replied.
Piper stared at the phone.
Millions.
An interview.
A marketable relationship.
She had spent the last year helping Owen build the public identity he later used to humiliate her. She planned launch parties, selected photographers, rewrote captions, and stood beside him while he accepted praise for authenticity.
Then he posted a breakup video explaining that she cared too much about appearances.
Piper had promised herself no man would ever use her that way again.
Apparently, she should have included hockey players in the wording.
“What does the team want from me?” she asked.
“Nothing has been negotiated.”
“That was not my question.”
“A joint interview. Possibly several public appearances. A short digital campaign if the response remains strong.”
“So I become proof that Emmett is emotionally available.”
Graham paused.
“That is one interpretation.”
“It is the interpretation.”
Emmett took the phone from her hand before she could stop him.
“The answer is no.”
Piper looked at him.
Graham exhaled. “Emmett, do not react emotionally.”
“You called during my date.”
“Your fake date.”
Emmett’s eyes moved toward Piper.
“My date.”
The correction landed somewhere beneath her ribs.
She ignored it.
Graham lowered his voice. “This could change your career.”
“No interviews.”
“You have not seen the offer.”
“No campaign.”
“You cannot reject terms that do not exist yet.”
“No using Piper.”
The lake seemed to become quieter.
Piper folded her arms.
Graham was silent long enough that she wondered whether the call had disconnected.
Then he said, “You are willing to walk away from a professional contract because she is uncomfortable?”
Emmett’s face did not change.
“Yes.”
The answer came without performance.
No pause.
No glance toward Piper to make sure she heard it.
Just yes.
Graham muttered something that should probably not have been said in front of a client, a fake girlfriend, or a woman holding emotional scissors.
Emmett ended the call.
Piper stared at him.
“You cannot do that.”
“I just did.”
“That contract could be worth millions.”
“So Graham mentioned.”
“And you rejected it before seeing the terms.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Emmett looked at her as if the answer should have been obvious.
“It uses you.”
Piper’s anger stumbled.
She recovered quickly.
“This entire arrangement uses both of us.”
“We agreed to this arrangement.”
“You agreed before telling me it could benefit your career.”
“I learned the size of the benefit thirty seconds before you did.”
“But you knew your agent thought the relationship was useful.”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I planned to refuse.”
“That does not mean I did not deserve to know.”
“No.”
The immediate agreement annoyed her.
She wanted resistance.
Resistance was easier to push against than Emmett standing in front of her, accepting the exact accusation she made.
“You should have told me last night,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Before we signed the rules.”
“Yes.”
“Before you planned this date.”
“Yes.”
Piper stared. “Could you argue once?”
“You are right.”
“That is manipulative.”
His eyebrows drew together. “Agreeing with you?”
“Agreeing this calmly.”
“I can become louder.”
“That would feel more honest.”
Emmett considered it.
“I should have told you.”
His voice remained low, but there was nothing casual in it now.
“I thought it did not matter because I had no intention of letting Graham use the relationship. That was my decision. It should have been ours.”
The anger inside her shifted.
Still there.
Less useful.
Piper looked away toward the dark lake.
The lanterns reflected in the water, four small points of gold stretching toward the shore.
“You made the decision for me.”
“Yes.”
“Because you thought you were protecting me.”
“Yes.”
“You understand why I hate that.”
“I do now.”
She looked back at him.
“Now?”
“After you explained it.”
“That is dangerously reasonable.”
“I have moments.”
“Rare?”
“Private.”
She wanted to smile.
She did not trust it.
Emmett sat across from her again, leaving more space between them than before.
That distance felt deliberate.
Respectful.
Also irritating.
Piper picked up the cold hot chocolate and took a sip because she needed something to do with her hands.
It was terrible now.
She drank it anyway.
“Your agent will call back,” she said.
“Yes.”
“He will say you are being impulsive.”
“Yes.”
“He will probably blame me.”
Emmett’s face went flat.
“He will not.”
“You cannot control what he thinks.”
“No. I can control whether he says it to you.”
The protective edge returned.
Piper pointed the cup toward him. “Careful.”
“What?”
“You are drifting back into locked-door behavior.”
His mouth tightened.
Then he nodded.
“You are right.”
“There it is again.”
“Would you prefer I let Graham insult you?”
“I would prefer to insult him myself.”
Something close to pride crossed Emmett’s face.
“That seems fair.”
Piper set the cup down.
“We need a new rule.”
“We have seven.”
“We need eight.”
“That feels excessive.”
“You created a million-dollar complication before the first date ended.”
“I did not create it.”
“You participated attractively.”
“That sounds like your fault.”
She looked at him.
His mouth moved.
He was getting better at smiling around her.
That was either progress or evidence of an approaching disaster.
Piper reached into her bag for the folded rules.
The paper was not in the side pocket.
She checked again.
Then the main compartment.
Receipts, pens, sunscreen, charger, volunteer schedules, emergency sewing kit, two granola bars she had forgotten existed.
No rules.
“What?” Emmett asked.
“The agreement is missing.”
“You put it in your bag.”
“I know.”
“Did you move it?”
“No.”
She emptied the bag onto the blanket.
Emmett leaned closer.
They searched beneath the food containers and along the edge of the dock.
Nothing.
Piper tried to remember the last time she had seen it.
Inside the equipment tent.
She signed.
Emmett signed.
She folded it and placed it in the outer pocket.
Then Maren took the photograph.
Owen called.
Piper walked through a crowd of hundreds.
Anyone could have reached into the pocket.
“Someone took it,” she said.
Emmett’s expression lost every trace of humor.
“Who knew where you put it?”
“Everyone in the tent.”
“Tyler, Griffin, Maren, Beckett, Ava, Nate, Miles.”
“And you.”
His eyes met hers.
Piper immediately regretted saying it.
Not because it was unfair.
Because part of her had expected him to look hurt.
He did not.
He looked careful.
“You think I took it?”
“No.”
The answer came before she finished deciding whether it was true.
Emmett watched her.
“You hesitated.”
“I am having a complicated day.”
“You are allowed.”
Again, no anger.
No demand that she trust him.
That made the possibility of trusting him more dangerous.
Piper picked up her phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling Maren.”
The call went directly to voicemail.
She called Griffin.
No answer.
Tyler.
Disconnected before the first ring, which felt like a public service.
Beckett answered.
“Piper Quinn,” he said warmly. “How goes romance?”
“The rules are missing.”
A pause.
“What rules?”
“The paper we signed.”
Another pause.
Then, “That feels narratively concerning.”
“Did you take it?”
“No.”
“Did Tyler?”
“Tyler has been under observation since the livestream.”
“By whom?”
“Society.”
“Beckett.”
“I did not take your contract.”
“Did you see anyone near my bag?”
“There were several children, two sponsors, one mascot, and a woman selling homemade candles.”
“Why was there a mascot?”
“The clinic wanted energy.”
“Who was inside it?”
“That remains disputed.”
Piper closed her eyes.
“Ask everyone from the tent. Call me if anyone remembers seeing the paper.”
“I accept this mission.”
“It is not a mission.”
“I have already named it.”
She ended the call.
Emmett was watching her.
“What?”