‘He might not have a choice,’ Bernie replied darkly. ‘He and Prince might be OK with this kinda macho bullshit but the sponsors won’t. And you know no one else is going to touch you either. There’s not going to be a team out there willing to take on a player so volatile and unpredictable – no one wants their brand hurt by a loose cannon.’ He sighed once again and looked at Ward, his face finally softening. ‘And really, man, when that happens … ’

‘What?’ Ward barked, trepidation in his voice at his agent’s tone.

‘Then I’m going to have to take Hannah’s lead. You’ve become a lot of work lately. And eventually, a guy like me has to question if the juice is worth the squeeze.’

Chapter 63

HANNAH

Hannah was sick of explaining. She was exhausted from having to repeat the same story over and over. And especially weary from having to plead her case with every higher-up in the New York office. To say nothing of the fact that she was utterly mortified at having her private life thrust out into the open yet again.

No matter what she said, or what explanation or viewpoint she provided, no one at Lotus HR was going to take her seriously now. Not after what had happened before with Rob. This was just another example of her messing up – a walking case study of how not to be a public relations professional. It was mortifying.

The day after, Hannah was told to stop everything she was doing for her current portfolio and instructed in no uncertain terms, that she should stay entirely out of the public eye nor speak to any member of the press. The firm’s damage control and crisis management arm had gone into overdrive, trying to clean up what had happened, which included putting her on a leave of absence for an undetermined amount of time and informing Ward and his agent that the company was severing their contract.

All in all, a nightmare. Now, she was huddled in a pair of cotton pyjamas on Courtney’s couch under a blanket, all the blinds shut tight in the apartment to keep out the light of day and mute the sounds of the street below, where millions of happy New Yorkers went on about their days, their lives not in shambles and their futures bright.

Her phone buzzed again, and she glanced at the screen. Private number.

She knew Lotus wouldn’t mask its identity if someone from HR was calling to deliver a verdict.

That meant press, she thought, or Ward. Or Rob. All of whom had been calling and messaging relentlessly in the aftermath and whom Hannah did not want to talk to right now. Or ever.

But a troublesome thought played at the edges of her brain.