The low growl of Rigby’s voice told me more than his words that he was pissed. “I don’t fucking know. She was still cocooned in bed when we left for training. But she’s not going to magically miss this. She’s going to find out. River and I are getting dragged to the owner's office now.”

“What are you going to say?”

Another low curse from Rigby. “The fucking truth. That we’re in a committed relationship, that it’s none of their fucking business, and everything printed in that article is a fucking lie that can be corroborated by at least thirty other people. Who the fuck would do this, man?”

I wished I’d looked at the byline before smashing the tablet. “I don’t care. I’m going to destroy them, and I’m going to fucking enjoy it.”

There was a loud shout and the sound of something heavy hitting the wall. River.

“Tell him to not punch the wall. He needs his fucking hands. We’ll get this figured out as soon as possible. And then whoever printed that bullshit will pay—I promise you that.”

I needed to get this shit over and done with before Nova turned on the news. She wasn’t a news lover, so I might have a little time to nip this in the bud. But I wasn’t betting that I’d be that lucky.

Tom called an emergency meeting with the lawyers and the PR department inhumanly fast. He must have made them sprint from their executive offices. I was gonna give that kid a raise.

I sat around a small conference table, a printed copy of the article in front of me. The byline wasn’t a name I knew, which was surprising. But the photos in the article were incriminating, and proof that someone had been following Nova for a lot longer than that pap in the park last week.

Her hand on Rigby’s through the glass—though me and Huey were conveniently cut from the picture—us on the kiss cam, River with his arm around her at the park. Even Nova standing in the doorway of Muss’s house, from an angle where you couldn’t see Julieta beside him.

I pushed the article into the middle of the table before I gave into the urge to tear it to pieces. “I want this squashed. Gone. And I want you to find the reporter and sue the fuck out of them—and the newspaper. Anyone who had anything to do with this bullshit.” I looked at Chantelle from PR. “Put out a press release.”

“What do you want it to say exactly?” she asked, eyeing me warily.

“That my relationships are no one’s fucking business would be a start,” I growled.