Page 35 of How to Play the Player

As I gather my stuff, Jonathan looks at me. “Oh, before I forget, the company is having a small gathering at this bar called the Brick tomorrow night—Nothing fancy, just drinks, catching up, and having a good time. Would you like to come?”

I’m surprised by his invitation. “That’s very kind, but I wouldn’t want to intrude on a personal get-together.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Jonathan insists with genuine warmth. “Plus, Kiera specifically asked me to invite you and Lyla.”

I hesitate, glancing briefly at Nathan who suddenly finds the floor rather interesting. The professional in me recognizes the value in seeing their friend dynamics. But spending casual time with Nathan in a bar he knows and I don’t feels dangerous.

“We’d understand if you couldn’t come. You already have a lot on your plate,” Nathan says unexpectedly, his tone professional but a hint of a challenge hides in his voice.

I square my shoulders. “Actually, I’d be happy to attend,” I reply smoothly. “Tell Kiera Lyla and I thank her for inviting us.”

“Great.” Jonathan smiles, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrent between Nathan and me. “Eight o’clock tomorrow night. I’ll text you the address.”

As I rise from my seat to leave the office, Jonathan excuses himself to take a call, leaving Nathan and me alone.

There’s long silence between us, heavy with unspoken thoughts, as I try to gather my things to leave.

“That was good work,” Nathan says. His words make me come to a stop. “With the troll situation.”

The compliment catches me off guard. But I do my best to hide it as I turn to face him. “Thank you.” I accept the compliment, though the words reflect my cautiousness.

“You’ve always been so quick on your feet,” he continues, his eyes intent on mine. “It’s one of your more…admirable qualities.”

Where is he going with this? I can’t tell if this is flirting, taunting, or just him acknowledging my professional skills. “Just doing my job,” I reply. “I appreciate the validation from Knight Industries’ chief innovation officer.”

His lips quirk slightly. “Is that what this is about for you? Professional validation?”

“What else would it be about?” I counter.

Nathan steps closer, his voice dropping. “You tell me, Quinn. You’re the one who showed up in that skirt.”

Heat threatens to creep up my neck as I do my best to maintain my composure. “Careful, Nathan. Someone might think you’re noticing things you shouldn’t be.”

“Just making an observation.” His eyes hold mine, challenge clear in them. “Day three of our bet, and you seem to be trying awfully hard.”

“I’m simply dressing professionally.” I play coy with practiced innocence. “If you find it distracting, that’s hardly my concern.”

He laughs softly, the sound sending an unwelcome shiver down my spine. “Keep telling yourself that.”

The way he’s looking at me makes me wonder if he can see right through me. If he can see past the professional facade to the woman underneath who still remembers how his hands felt on her skin. No. This is getting into dangerous territory. I need to get out of here.

“I should go,” I say, reaching for my laptop. “I have other clients to attend to.”

“On a Saturday?” He raises a brow.

I put my hand on my hip. “Not all of us can leave work at the office.”

Something shifts in his expression—a moment of what might be concern. “How is the new business going? Really?”

The unexpected question throws me off. My first instinct is to deflect, giving him the polished version I present to everyone else. But something in his gaze makes me hesitate. His question seems genuine. Maybe he’s not as heartless as I thought he’d become.

“It’s…challenging,” I admit, surprising myself with my honesty. “Then again, building a business from scratch always is.”

Nathan nods, seemingly in understanding. “I get that. I remember those days. The constant hustle, never enough hours in the day, wondering if you made the right choice…”

“Something like that,” I acknowledge, momentarily disarmed by this glimpse of the man I used to know—the one who understood ambition and uncertainty, who’d held me through nights of professional self-doubt.

“If it’s any consolation,” he says after a brief pause, “Jonathan’s impressed. And he doesn’t impress easily.”

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