Chapter Eighteen #2
Vantage could release the archive.
They could not produce the series they had already sold without Piper and Emmett participating.
Celeste spoke again.
“One appearance will not satisfy the settlement value.”
“It buys forty-eight hours,” Piper said. “During those forty-eight hours, your attorneys provide a complete inventory of every file acquired from Owen, every server location, every copy, and every person with access.”
“Impossible.”
“Then the appearance is impossible.”
“You are risking your clients.”
“No,” Piper said. “You are.”
The words struck through the rink.
No raised voice.
No polished smile.
Just responsibility returned to the person causing the harm.
Celeste was silent for several seconds.
Then the emergency radio crackled.
“I will take the terms to counsel.”
“Nine o’clock remains your deadline,” Piper said.
“Our deadline.”
“No. Yours. At nine, you either prove the files are protected, or Daniel files every available criminal and civil action against Vantage, the platform, your domestic partners, and every advertiser attached to the series.”
Daniel glanced toward her.
Piper lowered her voice. “You can do that, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent.”
Celeste laughed again, but the sound had changed.
“You really do plan everything.”
“No,” Piper said. “I plan events. This is evidence.”
The radio fell silent.
University security escorted Celeste from the property after photographing her identification and seizing the transmitter she had used to access the rink projector.
She left without entering the building.
That bothered Emmett.
She had threatened Piper from outside, activated equipment inside, and never needed to cross the door.
Distance had become another kind of access.
Once the officer confirmed Celeste was gone, the rink lights returned.
The brightness felt aggressive.
Everyone looked worse under it.
Tired. Angry. Uncertain.
Piper stood near center ice holding the unsigned Vantage agreement.
Daniel’s team began drafting the standstill proposal in the coaches’ room. Sasha identified every Vantage contact she knew. Griffin spoke with the athletic director about Emmett’s possible appearance at the wedding showcase.
Tyler and Beckett were assigned to search every object brought into the building for hidden cameras.
Tyler held up a roll of tape. “I finally have investigative authority.”
“You have supervision,” Griffin said.
“Authority with emotional boundaries.”
“Do not dismantle university property.”
Beckett looked toward the scoreboard.
Griffin pointed at him. “Especially that.”
Emmett waited until the others moved away.
Piper remained on the rink floor.
He walked toward her.
“What?” she asked.
“You offered them your showcase.”
“Yes.”
“The event that determines whether Quinn Events survives.”
“Yes.”
“You are angry.”
“Very.”
“At me?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Emmett stopped beside her.
Piper looked down at the contract.
“I built that showcase for eleven months. Every vendor who matters will be there. Every potential client. Every person Owen contacted after stealing my files.”
“You do not have to let Vantage inside.”
“If it protects the client archive for forty-eight hours, I do.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Her gaze lifted.
Emmett tried again.
“Do you want them inside?”
“No.”
“Then why that event?”
“Because it is the only location valuable enough to make them agree.”
The answer was strategic.
Not complete.
Emmett waited.
Piper looked toward the empty stands.
“And because I am tired of them entering places that belong to me without permission.”
He understood.
The showcase was not only leverage.
It was the first place Piper intended to control again.
“What happens when they film?” he asked.
“They receive exactly what the written terms allow.”
“They will edit it.”
“Yes.”
“Create a different meaning.”
“Yes.”
“Title every look.”
“Yes.”
A muscle moved in Emmett’s cheek.
Piper touched his arm.
“We know now.”
“That does not make it acceptable.”
“No. It makes it visible.”
He looked down at her hand.
“What if I make your choices smaller again?” he asked.
Piper’s expression changed.
“You asked what I needed.”
“After saying no first.”
“You corrected it.”
“Eventually.”
“You are allowed to have instincts, Emmett.”
“Mine usually involve doors and removing people.”
“Then perhaps discuss them before implementation.”
His mouth moved.
Piper stepped closer.
“You did not go after Celeste.”
“You told me not to.”
“You did not interrupt me.”
“You were better at it.”
“You let me ask you to choose.”
“That was new.”
“How did it feel?”
“Terrible.”
She smiled.
A real one.
Emmett’s chest tightened.
Piper looked at the rink floor where their stolen kiss had been projected minutes earlier.
“I hate that they saw us.”
“So do I.”
“I hate that every real thing becomes evidence.”
“Yes.”
“I hate that I am considering letting them film the showcase.”
“Yes.”
She looked up at him.
“You are supposed to say something helpful now.”
“I can offer inaccurate reassurance.”
“No.”
“Then I hate it too.”
Piper exhaled.
“That helped.”
Emmett touched the side of her face.
He waited.
She leaned into his hand.
The movement was small.
Private, despite everything.
“We do not kiss here again,” she said.
“No.”
“They may still have another camera.”
“Yes.”
“You agree too quickly.”
“I am learning.”
Piper looked toward the penalty box.
“Come with me.”
They crossed the rink and entered the narrow box through a warped wooden gate. The plexiglass was scratched from years of sticks, gloves, and angry players reconsidering their decisions.
Piper sat on the bench.
Emmett sat beside her.
“What is this?” he asked.
“A private date location.”
“It has transparent walls.”
“Symbolic privacy.”
“No food.”
“I found a granola bar in my coat.”
“That is not a date.”
“It is all I have.”
She broke the bar in half and gave him the larger piece.
Emmett looked at it.
“Romance is collapsing.”
“You told me you wanted the parts of me that are not useful.”
“Yes.”
“This is what happens when I am tired. Granola and bad choices.”
He took the piece.
“Date three.”
Piper stared at him.
“This counts?”
“No cameras. Poor food. Questionable seating.”
“You have low standards.”
“Only for furniture.”
She laughed.
They ate in silence.
Emmett watched the empty rink through the scratched glass.
The first time he sat inside this penalty box, he had been nineteen and furious at a defenseman who screened him during a playoff game.
Graham had found him afterward and said anger was useful if Emmett learned how to make it look like discipline.
For years, Emmett believed discipline meant hiding every reaction until no one could use it.
Piper had done something similar with smiles.
Vantage had still found the feelings.
Perhaps hiding was not the same as protecting.
“I am scared,” he said.
Piper stopped eating.
The words felt unfamiliar inside his mouth.
She did not rush to fill the silence.
“What part?” she asked.
“All of it.”
“That lacks specificity.”
“I learned from you.”
Her mouth moved.
Emmett looked down at the granola wrapper.
“I am scared the suspension becomes permanent. I am scared another club never offers. I am scared every private thing I tell you becomes an episode.”
Piper’s expression softened.
He continued before the honesty disappeared.
“I am scared you will decide loving me creates too much damage.”
She went completely still.
Emmett looked toward the rink.
“You do not have to answer.”
“Stop doing that.”
He looked at her.
“You say something enormous, then politely remove my ability to respond.”
“I am trying not to pressure you.”
“You can give me time without pretending your feelings do not need anything.”
The distinction entered slowly.
“What do they need?” she asked.
“Honesty.”
“You have it.”
“Then I need to know if you are staying because of the client files.”
Piper stared at him.
“The Vantage agreement?”
“No. With me.”
The fear became visible once he said it.