Page 128 of Power Play Rivals

“Ooh, you’re good, Nichols. But not that good. I’m not falling for your tricks.”

“It’s not a trick. Trick implies that I’m lying. I’m one hundred percent serious.”

I look deep into his eyes and see that he means every word, and for the briefest of moments, I let myself believe that he’s right. That we’re more than just two people with great sexual chemistry. That, in another life, I could have fallen for him.

“There,” he coos softly. “That’s the look.”

God, I hate him.

“Can we talk about something else? Anything else?” I grumble, going back to my food.

“Fair enough.” He nods, not one bit put off by my rejection. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“I am not having Thanksgiving with you, Trent, if that’s what you’re going to ask. I’m fine with us playing house for a month, but that’s it.”

“Easy there, kitten. I only asked because I’ll be spending it with Rex, and you’ll probably want to spend it with your mother. I was just wondering what you two had planned.”

“Oh,” I retort, my cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “I… um… yeah. We usually spend every holiday with the Moores, Lottie’s family. “

“That sounds like fun. Maybe you can ask your friend Charlotte about Wilder then. Maybe she’ll give you a better insight into her relationship with Wilder.”

“Maybe. Though, I usually don’t bully people into talking about their feelings,” I counter with a snarl.

“Is that what I’m doing? Bullying you?” He chuckles.

“Isn’t it?”

“No. Like I said, I’m more than happy to wait as long as I have to. I’m in no rush to tell you I told you so. Though I am excited for when that day comes.”

“Funny.” I roll my eyes at him and divert the conversation back to his Thanksgiving plans. “Are you going to cook for Rex, too?”

“Doubt it. Rex has staff for that. We’ll probably eat in front of the TV, watch the football game, and then doze off on his couch.”

“Does that mean you’re going to spend the night at Rex’s and not here?”

“That all depends.” He shrugs.

“On what?”

“Do you want me to spend Thanksgiving night here?”

I open my mouth, ready to tell him no, but for the life of me, the word refuses to come out.

“When we made this deal, we never discussed holidays. I’ll understand if you’d rather spend it with family than with me,” he adds, his penetrating gaze looking deep into mine.

Instead of answering his question, I turn my attention back to the plate and fill my mouth with delicious goodness instead of giving him an answer.

“How about we put a pin in it?” he says while standing up from his stool, unable to hide his disappointment this time.

I don’t say a word while watching Trent meticulously rinse off his plate before loading it into the dishwasher and then methodically clean the pots and pans he used to prepare dinner.

I always knew that Trent was methodical and strategic in business. However, I now realize that the ingrained habit has also carried over to his personal life. It almost looks like a dance the way he puts everything back in its rightful place.

There’s something beautifully tragic about this new nugget of information.

Beautiful because every movement is perfect in its execution.

Tragic because it leaves little room for argument or doubt.

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