Page 9 of Playing His Game

Before Mo could say anything else, the twelve-foot door to Orson’s office opened, revealing Audrey Levigne, PR manager extraordinaire, in a smart pencil skirt with her hair pulled back into a bun so tight, it was giving Mo a headache. “Moritz,” she said smoothly. “Thank you for being punctual.” Thefor oncehung between them, unsaid. “Please come in.”

Step into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.

Mo shot Miss Daisy a weak smile and entered the lion’s den.

Orson sat in the wingback leather chair behind his massive desk. His décor was so subtle and understated. He might as well have hung a portrait of some long-ago monarch behind him just so that the crown rested above his own head.

Claire stood at his right hand. Once upon a time, Mo felt bad for her. She had been an Olympic skier in her younger years. Despite access to the world’s best tailors, she never seemed comfortable in the businesswear she dressed in for the office.

Claire spoke first. “Moritz. There you are.” The warmth in her voice might have fooled someone she hadn’t raised.

“Hello, Mother.” Without trying, Mo slipped on his polite-but-distant-son persona. “Father.”

“Moritz.” As usual, Orson didn’t bother feigning warmth. “Have a seat, please. Audrey, lock the door, would you?”

Audrey nodded sharply and did as he asked, then sat ramrod in the chair next to Mo’s before flipping open her tablet.

Orson cleared his throat. “Audrey, would you do the honors, please?”

“Certainly, Mr. Du Pont.” Audrey rotated twenty degrees toward Mo and flipped her tablet screen around. “This morning, a member of our professional image team flagged some video of you and Adam Murphy that raises concerns for us.”

Mo glanced at the screen. Unfortunately, it did look damning. One of the bachelorette party girls must have gotten video of his dramatic stumble toward Adam. What had he been angry about? He didn’t remember. Probably, he’d blamed Adam that his so-called friends had run off with the Canyons. Obviously not his finest moment.

By now, he knew better than to assume anything, so he waited for the video to finish playing before asking, “Concerns?”

“Expansion talk has everyone taking a closer look,” Orson said, his mouth puckered. Rumors of the NHL adding a team in Seattle had buzzed around sports talk for the past year.

Audrey stepped back in smoothly. “You recall earlier this month there was an altercation between two Canyons players after Adam Murphy was named captain.”

No, Mo did not recall. That would require him to expend valuable brain cells following his parents’ hockey team and, by extension, their favorite adopted son. “I didn’t know that.” He flicked his eyes toward his parents. Orson’s mouth was a flat line.

“With the recent allegations of domestic violence against other members of the NHL…”

Oh no.

Shit, shit, shit.Maybe he could delay the inevitable by playing dumb? “Rumors?” Three sets of incredulous eyes stared at him. Or maybe not.

Before anyone could call him on his bullshit, a buzz sounded from the phone on Orson’s desk. He cast it a glance, then jabbed the button. “He’s here?”

“Yes,” Miss Daisy confirmed.

“Send him in.”

“Who—” Mo cut himself off. Asking questions would only get him into more trouble. It always did.

He wasn’t left in suspense for long, because Audrey stood to unlock the door and Adam fucking Murphy walked in. Mo should have guessed.

Murphy looked shocked to see the assembled party, but he recovered quickly and approached, if somewhat hesitantly. “Good morning.”

Not even close.But Mo wasn’t about to call Adam out on it in front of the Du Ponts, both of whom were smiling at Murphy like he’d arrived to save the day.

“Adam,” Orson said amiably. He stood and motioned for him to take the only available remaining seat.

Murphy, being the good role model he was, followed direction and settled into the chair.

“Thank you for joining us, Adam,” Orson continued as he resumed his seat. He didn’t sound warm—he never did—but at least he conveyed friendliness. Or some mutant version of it. “As you may be aware, video of your… conversation with Moritz last night was posted online, and there is already much speculation as to the nature of your interaction.”

Murphy shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I had been made aware, sir.”