Page 13 of How to Play the Player

This contract, this arrangement between Nathan and me, could make or break my career. So failure isn’t an option, even when success means months of professional purgatory with the man who broke my heart.

Chapter Seven

Quinn

My hands tremble as I slam Lyla’s car door shut. The sound echoes through Jonathan’s driveway, matching the thundering pulse in my ears. I press my back against the seat, trying to steady my breathing as Lyla stares at me from the driver’s side. She tucks a strand of lavender hair behind her ear. Those perceptive hazel eyes show her genuine concern for me.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice gentle in the silence.

I can’t answer. Not yet. The sight of Nathan’s face—that flash of anger, accusation, and something else I refuse to name—is burned into my retinas. The way he cornered me, how he stood so close, how his voice dropped to that dangerous low register when he told me to leave and never come back.

God, after a year, after showing me such hostility, he still affects me. There must be something wrong with me.

“Quinn?” Lyla says my name, trying to get my attention.

“Just…give me a minute,” I manage, staring out the window as she pulls out of the driveway.

The first stoplight gives me a moment to breathe. I close my eyes, focusing on steadying my inhales and exhales while my knuckles turn white against my thighs.

In, out. In, out.

It doesn’t help.

I thought I’d finally moved past this—past him. I’d built a new life, a new business. And now he’s back, tearing open old wounds with surgical precision. Worse, I’m contractually obligated to work with him.

“I could call them,” Lyla offers quietly. “Tell them you’ve reconsidered.”

The temptation is overwhelming. One call could free me from this emotional nightmare but put me back at square one professionally and financially. I refuse to go back to scraping for clients. Back to worrying if I’ll make rent next month.

No. An opportunity like this doesn’t just happen every day. And I’m not stupid enough to let an ex convince me to throw all that away for his comfort.

“No need. I’m staying on with them. Nathan Knight can kiss my ass. So what should we do first?”

Lyla studies me for a moment, then nods. “Okay. We’ll need supplies.” She makes a sharp turn at the next intersection.

“What kind of supplies?” I ask.

“Emergency girl-power shopping session. It’s the least I can do.”

I realize what she means twenty minutes later when I’m guiding a shopping cart through the ice cream aisle. The fluorescent lights feel harsh, matching the fury radiating through my body. Nathan’s parting words still echo in my head:I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.

“Okay, what else makes you feel better when you feel like murdering your ex?” Lyla asks, tossing a pint of salted caramelgelato into the cart. “I’m so, so sorry about agreeing to this on your behalf. I panicked.”

One of the many things I love about Lyla? When she’s apologetic, she truly means it. This is one of those times.

“Lyla, you don’t have to buy me all my favorite foods as an apology. To tell you the truth, I’m glad one of us said something.” I start to feel my heartbeat normalize as we continue walking through the grocery store. “I was too busy having an out-of-body experience.”

“Hence another reason why I’m buying all your favorite foods.” Her designer heels click against the fluorescent-lit aisle as she adds my favorite dark chocolate—the expensive kind—to the growing pile of comfort foods. “So we’re not gonna talk about how he practically cornered you in that dining room?”

I sigh. Of course she saw what happened between him and me. Who wouldn’t take a peek from the kitchen to watch that spectacle? “I don’t think there’s anything to talk about. Nathan is still convinced I’m some kind of corporate spy who traded his secrets for a payday and thinks I’ll do it again for funsies.”

“And with Jonathan forcing you two to work together, you can’t walk away.” She finishes my explanation, now fully understanding the situation.

We continue walking through the store until we reach the liquor aisle. I’m quick to select a bottle of wine. “I can’t afford to lose this contract. And waiting for something as good as this one isn’t an option, either.” I pause, tracing the label with my finger. “The Knight name carries weight. I need this to showcase what I can do post-Bethany. One successful wedding for a family as big as the Knights could open doors that would stay closed if I walked away.”

Lyla’s face turns tight with guilt. “I might as well have served you up to the wolf.”

“He may be an angry, unreasonable wolf, but it’s not your fault. You were simply looking out for me. I could use someone in my corner. Someone who can help me focus on what’s more important whenever I’m too busy having an emotional meltdown.”

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