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“They’ve met me.”

“They haven’t met this version.”

Bane remains silent.

I look at him. “You disagree?”

His hand comes to the back of my chair. “I think you’re right.”

The answer catches me because every rigid line of his body says he’d rather put a wall between me and every reporter with my name in their search history, but his hand stays on the back of my chair instead of reaching for my laptop or making the decision for me.

“What do you need from me?” he asks.

I press my lips together and turn back to the laptop before the relief his question gives me becomes another problem I have to manage in front of half the office. “Dates. I need the timeline locked down.”

Theo is already opening his calendar. “I can pull your hiring records, interview schedule, and HR approval.”

“We don’t need to publish my personnel file.”

“I know.” He glances at me. “I want communications to have everything in case somebody challenges the timeline.”

Lena points toward the screen. “You should also address the gala.”

She’s right.

Bane pulls his chair closer. “You don’t owe anyone details about that night, so don’t give them more than you’re comfortable putting in print.”

I return to the paragraph about the gala. The dressing room matters because Bane was there when I needed him, but nothing romantic happened between us that night.

I’m not giving Spencer the power to turn it into more than it was.

“I can say we spoke privately at an event while you worked for Spencer and that nothing romantic happened.”

Bane’s expression gives away exactly how much he enjoys discussing this publicly.

“That accurate enough for you?”

His mouth shifts. “Yeah.”

Theo stands. “I’ll bring communications in.”

He gets three steps away before turning back.

“Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“For what it’s worth, this article reads like somebody who’s furious you moved on.”

The anger inside me blooms. “I know.”

Theo nods and leaves.

By lunchtime, three reporters have called my direct office number.

Another two contact Lena because somebody online has identified her as “a close workplace confidante,” which she finds so ridiculous that she prints the phrase and tapes it beside her monitor.

The communications team takes over the small conference room beside my office, filling the table with laptops and the director puts the first draft on the wall screen.