Page 21 of How to Play the Player
The offer stuns me. It’s more than I expected. A public clearing of my name, something I’ve wanted for a year, could actually happen. But I know I can’t get too excited.
“And if I lose?” I ask, caution finally catching up with impulse.
“If you break—if you lose—you’ll resign from the contract immediately, with a statement that you’re withdrawing due to personal conflicts.”
Professional suicide. He’s asking me to bet my career against his pride.
Every instinct tells me to refuse, to step back from this dangerous game. But the chance to finally clear my name, to have Nathan publicly admit he’d accused me without proof, is too sweet to pass up.
“Deal,” I say before I can reconsider, extending my hand.
His fingers close around mine, warm and solid. The contact sends a jolt through me that I desperately try to ignore. His thumb brushes almost imperceptibly against my wrist, and I know he feels my pulse quicken.
“Two weeks, Quinn,” he says, his voice a dangerous promise. “I look forward to seeing what you come up with.”
Chapter Ten
Knight Industries
Nathan
Istride into the office and immediately lower the blinds, needing a moment of darkness after my encounter with Quinn. My body still feels overheated, my collar too tight against my throat.
I open the top button of my shirt and drop my tie on the desk, then pull up the background check Scott sent earlier this morning. But the words blur before my eyes.
Fourteen days of celibacy and seeing Quinn but not being allowed to touch her. What the hell was I thinking?
A knock interrupts my mental spiral. I turn to find Jake leaning against my doorframe. “How was your first meeting with Quinn?” he says casually. “Need any bail money?”
“Very funny.” I minimize Scott’s report before Jake can see it. “Everything is sorted out for now.”
Jake steps inside, closing the door behind him. “Then why are you hiding in here with the blinds down, looking at that screen like it personally offended you?”
I glance at the darkened windows—more telling than I’d realized.
“Client issue,” I lie, adjusting figures on a spreadsheet that don't need my attention.
Jake circles around to my side, seeing me and my computer screen. “Try again. The Ericsson prototype presentation isn't until next month, and everything else is on track. This is about Quinn.”
I refuse to give him the satisfaction of confirming his suspicion, continuing to focus instead on my computer screen.
“Interesting,” Jake muses. “When Jonathan mentioned forcing you two to work together, I bet him fifty bucks you’d either come back looking for criminal lawyers or wearing that expression you get after conquering a particularly difficult challenge.”
I glance up despite myself. “You bet on my reaction?”
“Call it an educated guess.” His casual tone masks the concern in his eyes. "So which is it—homicide plans or unresolved attraction?”
I scoff. “You made a bet for nothing.”
“What happened, then?”
The room suddenly feels stifling. I reach for the window controls, letting in some natural light.
“Nothing happened.”
“Nathan.” Just my name, but the way he says it tells me he isn’t leaving until he gets an answer. And bullshitting him has never been an option.
The silence stretches until it becomes its own form of confession.
