Page 33 of How to Play the Player

“So,” Jonathan begins once we’re all settled, “after yesterday’s venue tour, I’m even more convinced you’re the right person for this job, Quinn. Your suggestions about security and media management are exactly what Kiera and I had hoped for.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” I reply, genuinely pleased at the vote of confidence. “Solana Vineyard offers excellent natural privacy advantages. We just need to build on that foundation with a little bit of strategic planning.”

Jonathan smiles, continuing, “I’d like to finalize the social media announcement strategy. With six months to go, we’d like to start engaging with the public sooner rather than later.”

Nathan leans forward, handing me a packet of paper. “I’ve already drafted a preliminary schedule based on our digital engagement patterns. Knight Industries’ social media presence peaks on Mondays and Fridays. Maximum visibility would be?—”

“Wednesdays at three p.m.,” I finish his sentence for him with a confident smile. “Based on my research, your optimal window for personal announcements differs from corporate ones. We’ll have to be cautious about creating organic spread without it feeling manufactured.”

Nathan’s eyebrow rises slightly. “You learned all that in twenty-four hours?”

“Knight Industries’ social media presence is public data. I simply analyzed the last six months.”

Jonathan looks impressed. “You have a sharp eye.”

I pull up my presentation on my laptop and look to the two men. “May I?”

They both nod, indicating to me to continue. As I take them through my proposed strategy, I can feel Nathan watching me—assessing, evaluating, no doubt searching for any flaws to exploit. But he seems to not find any because his expression, with each passing minute, grows more resigned.

“I’m suggesting a three-phase approach,” I explain, turning my laptop so both men can see the calendar. “First, a subtle hint post from Kiera’s accounts, perhaps a photo of her hand resting on Jonathan’s. No ring visible, but with a cryptic caption about ‘new beginnings.’ This will create initial buzz that we’ll build up over time.”

Jonathan nods, seemingly understanding my logic.

“One week later, after smaller posts throughout the previous week, we follow with the official engagement announcement—professional photos, a heartfelt caption, the works.”

“And the third phase?” Nathan asks, skeptically.

“That’s when we leverage Knight Industries’ corporate channels—a congratulatory post that positions the engagement as a personal milestone while maintaining professional boundaries.”

Reluctant appreciation creeps onto Nathan’s features. “You seem to have thought this through.”

“Of course.” I turn to Jonathan. “The goal is to satisfy public curiosity while maintaining privacy. Give them enough to feel included yet keep the truly intimate moments for yourselves.”

Jonathan sits back, clearly pleased. “This is exactly the approach we want. Don’t you think, Nathan?”

Nathan nods slowly. “It’s…comprehensive.”

Coming from him, that might as well be a half compliment.

The longer this meeting goes, the more of a productive rhythm all three of us fall into. For a while, I almost forget the complicated history between Nathan and me. Almost.

Without warning, my presentation vanishes when my laptop dies completely, the third time today despite the power cord being firmly connected all night and most of the early morning.

I breathe a frustrated sigh, pressing the power button and hoping it comes back to life. But nothing happens. “I’m sorry; itwas fully charged when I arrived.” I fumble with the charger in my bag, desperately looking for an outlet around the room.

“Here,” Nathan offers unexpectedly, showing me his tablet. “I’ve been taking notes. We can work from these.”

Our eyes meet briefly before I glance at his screen. Even though he isn’t touching me this time, that familiar electricity zips through me.

“Thanks, but I’m okay,” I murmur, quickly refocusing on the meeting. “As I was explaining about the announcement timeline…”

We continue the meeting smoothly despite the technical difficulties, my professional training allowing me to adapt without missing a beat. I feel Nathan watching me as I speak, his gaze steady and assessing. When I finish with everything I have to say, I wait for their response.

“How old is the laptop?” Jonathan asks a question I don’t expect, glancing at my dead computer.

“About three years,” I admit. “It’s just acting up, that’s all. Worst timing ever, right?” I try to laugh off the awkward situation.

Nathan’s expression shifts subtly. “You should get that checked out. Could be a faulty battery or a software malfunction.”

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