Chapter Seven
Piper
Piper Quinn had just admitted she might have chosen Emmett Novak when a camera drone slammed into the porch railing.
The machine clipped a wooden post, spun sideways, and dropped into a hydrangea bush with a violent mechanical buzz.
Piper jumped.
Emmett moved in front of her before the broken propellers stopped turning.
Tyler opened the cabin door again.
“Was that an attack?”
“A reporter,” Griffin called from inside.
“That was my second guess.”
Emmett stepped off the porch and crossed the lawn toward the bush.
Piper followed him down the stairs.
“You do not need to investigate the drone.”
“It flew at your head.”
“It flew badly near my head.”
“That distinction will comfort me later.”
He crouched beside the bush and lifted the drone by one damaged landing leg. A phone number and the logo of a celebrity news site were printed across the side.
Emmett looked toward the trees near the cabin entrance.
“Whoever operated it is close.”
“Please do not hunt a journalist through the woods.”
“I was going to return their property.”
“You are holding it like you plan to introduce it to the lake.”
He looked at the water.
Piper took the drone from him.
“No.”
“It entered private property.”
“And now it has structural damage. Justice has occurred.”
Reporters remained gathered beyond the line of trees, visible between the parked cars. Someone shouted Piper’s name.
Emmett’s attention returned to her.
The unfinished conversation stood between them.
There was another message.
I told Owen that if I were single, I was afraid I might choose you.
Piper had not planned to say it.
She had spent the drive to Brennan’s cabin telling herself she would discuss the leaked contract, replace the rules, and establish a professional plan for the interview.
She would not discuss the private message.
She would especially not tell Emmett that Owen had cropped the screenshot directly above the sentence that explained everything.
Then Emmett had admitted he agreed to the bet because he wanted the chance to learn whether she could want him back.
Her self-control had packed a bag and left Lake Briar.
Emmett set the damaged drone on the porch.
“What did afraid mean?”
Of course he returned to the worst possible word.
Piper folded her arms. “There are reporters thirty yards away.”
“They cannot hear us.”
“They have flying equipment.”
“It is currently inside a plant.”
“Another one could be circling.”
Emmett scanned the sky.
She touched his arm.
“Do not look for it.”
His gaze dropped to her hand.
Piper removed it.
Too late.
The warmth of his skin remained against her palm.
“What did afraid mean?” he asked again.
“It meant I was dating someone.”
“That explains guilty.”
“Fine. Guilty and afraid.”
“Afraid of me?”
“No.”
His expression did not change, but she saw the question sharpen.
Piper blew out a breath.
“Afraid of what choosing you would mean.”
“What would it mean?”
“That I could not manage it.”
“Manage me?”
“The relationship.”
“You should not have to manage a relationship.”
“I know that now.”
Emmett waited.
He was unfairly good at waiting. Most people hurried to fill silence. Emmett created it, stood inside it, and allowed every truth Piper had planned to avoid to become increasingly visible.
“You notice things,” she said.
“You have mentioned that.”
“You do it without asking for credit.”
“That sounds normal.”
“It was not normal in my relationship.”
His expression hardened at the mention of Owen.
Piper continued before he could focus on the wrong part.
“You do not need me to make you look interesting. You do not need me to arrange every conversation or smooth over every awkward moment. You do not need me to become easier.”
“No.”
“That is frightening.”
“Why?”
“Because if you wanted me, I would have to believe you wanted the real version.”
Emmett stared at her.
Piper wished he would laugh.
Or disagree.
Or make one of his dry comments and give her somewhere safer to stand.
He stepped closer.
“The real version is the one I noticed.”
Her heartbeat stumbled.
“That sounded rehearsed.”
“It was not.”
“That makes it worse.”
“You keep saying that.”
“You keep making things worse.”
His mouth shifted.
Piper pointed toward him. “Do not smile while I am experiencing emotional danger.”
“I am not smiling.”
“You are preparing one.”
“It may pass.”
She hated how much she wanted to see it.
A reporter shouted again.
“Piper, did you emotionally cheat on Owen?”
The moment shattered.
Piper’s shoulders locked.
Emmett turned toward the voice.
“Do not,” she said.
“I have not done anything.”
“You have the face.”
“What face?”
“The one that makes opposing players question their life insurance.”
“They asked a bad question.”
“They are paid to ask bad questions.”
“That does not make it acceptable.”
“No. It makes it predictable.”
The cabin door opened behind them. Maren stepped onto the porch with Griffin and Ava.
“We need a plan,” Maren said.
Piper glanced toward the reporters.
“I have one.”
Griffin looked suspicious. “Does it involve walking directly into them?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“That was not a vote.”
“It should be.”
Piper picked up the replacement agreement from where Emmett had left it on the porch rail.
She held it out to him.
“Are you signing?”
Emmett read the two new rules again.
Neither party will lie about feelings that existed before the agreement.
Either party may end the arrangement at any time. No explanation required.
He took the pen from her.
“What happens if one of us does not know what the feelings are?”
Piper’s pulse changed.
“That sounds like a future problem.”
“It sounds current.”
“Sign.”
Emmett signed.
Piper folded the agreement and slipped it into the zippered pocket inside her bag.
Maren watched her.
“You are continuing.”
“Yes.”
“Because you want to?”
Piper glanced at Emmett.
His face revealed nothing, but his attention was entirely hers.
“Yes.”
The word felt more dangerous than it should have.
Maren nodded.
“Then we walk into the event together. No formal statement until the interview tomorrow. We keep today focused on the scholarship program.”
“The reporters will not cooperate,” Ava said.
“They do not have to,” Piper replied. “We do.”
Emmett stepped beside her.
“What do you want me to do?”
The question was becoming a problem.
Every time he asked, another small piece of the armor Owen had built around her became less useful.
“Stay beside me,” she said. “Do not answer for me.”
“Agreed.”
“Do not threaten anyone.”
“I have not threatened anyone.”
“Your silence has legal implications.”
“Hard to regulate.”
Piper looked toward the waiting reporters.
“Hold my hand.”
Emmett’s expression changed.
Not dramatically.
His gaze simply became warmer, more focused, and much too intimate for a fake request.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He held out his hand.
Piper placed hers inside it.
His fingers closed around hers.
No performance.
No possessive grip.
Just warmth, steadiness, and the quiet pressure of his thumb against her knuckle.
She hated that it calmed her.
She hated more that he noticed.
“Ready?” he asked.
“No.”
“Good.”
“That was not reassuring.”
“It was honest.”
They walked toward the event together.
The reporters saw them before they reached the line of trees.
Questions came immediately.
“Piper, did your feelings for Emmett begin before your breakup?”
“Emmett, were you waiting for Owen’s relationship to end?”
“Is the contract offer real?”
“Are you being paid to date him?”
Emmett’s hand tightened around hers.
Not pulling.
Checking.
Piper looked up at him.
He was waiting for direction.
She gave him a small nod.
They continued walking.
A reporter stepped closer.
“Piper, did you cheat on Owen?”
Piper stopped.
Maren made a quiet sound behind her.
Emmett turned with Piper but did not speak.
She looked directly at the reporter.
“No.”
“Then why did you tell Owen you might choose Emmett?”
“Because noticing that another person treats you with more care than your partner does is not cheating. Sometimes it is the first sign that your relationship has already failed.”
The cameras moved closer.
Piper continued.
“I did not kiss Emmett. I did not date Emmett. I did not secretly begin a relationship with him. I sent one private message to the man I was dating because I was asking him to notice how unhappy I had become.”
The reporter opened her mouth.
Piper did not give her the space.
“Owen chose to crop that message and post it publicly. He omitted the part where I asked him to attend counseling with me.”
The questions stopped.
Emmett looked at her.
Piper had never told him that.
She had barely told anyone.
A second reporter lifted his microphone.
“Did Owen agree?”
“No.”
“What did he say?”
Piper remembered the exact response.
Therapy will not make you less controlling.
“That belongs to me,” she said.
The reporter tried again. “What about Emmett’s contract? Are you benefiting financially from this relationship?”
“No.”
“Is Emmett?”
“Ask him.”
Every camera shifted toward Emmett.
He looked at Piper first.
Permission.
She nodded.
“My agent received interest from a professional club after the announcement,” Emmett said. “I declined any interview or campaign that required Piper’s participation.”
“Did you decline the contract?”
“There was no formal contract.”
“Would you accept one now?”
“If it depends on using Piper, no.”
Questions erupted.
Piper stared at him.
He did not look toward the cameras to check how the answer landed.
He looked at her.
A reporter called, “Why would you give up millions for a fake girlfriend?”
Emmett’s thumb moved once across Piper’s hand.
“The contract is fake,” he said. “She is not.”
The noise around them seemed to vanish.
Piper forgot how to breathe.
Emmett’s expression changed by a fraction.
He had not planned to say it.
She knew because he looked almost as startled as she felt.
The cameras had no such difficulty.
Flashes fired.
Questions became louder.
“What does that mean?”
“Are the feelings real?”
“Are you two actually together?”
Piper stepped forward before Emmett could answer.