Page 38 of How to Play the Player

“Are you trying to say I’m complicating things for you?” I rest my lips close enough to her ear that they nearly brush against her skin. She shudders slightly, and satisfaction courses through me.

“You’ve always complicated things,” she admits, a flash of honesty that catches me off guard. “Even now, when you hate me.”

The words land hard. Is that what she thinks I think of her? “I don’t hate you,”

She looks up at me, expression wide with genuine surprise, lips parted slightly. My focus drops to her mouth, those soft lips I used to claim with my own. I lean in, drawn by a gravity I can’t fight, watching her lashes flutter closed in anticipation.

Our lips are once again a whisper apart when the song abruptly shifts to something with a quicker tempo. Reality crashes back and I pull away slightly, catching the flash of disappointment in her eyes before she masks it.

Quinn steps away, smoothing her dress with trembling hands. “Well, thank you for the dance,” she says formally, though her voice is husky, betraying her act.

“Quinn—” I start, not sure what I’m about to say.

“I should check in with everyone,” she interrupts, already turning away. “We’re all meeting tomorrow to discuss photographer options.”

I watch her walk away, frustration twisting in my gut. Not just for how close I let myself get to her, but also having her so close only for her to be so far away again. This bet was supposed to prove I’m immune to her, that whatever pull she once had on me is long gone. Instead, one dance has left me more unsettled than a year’s worth of meaningless encounters.

“Tough break, little brother.” Jonathan appears at my side, offering me a fresh beer. “Though I have to say, you two move well together.”

“It was just a dance,” I say, accepting the drink. “That’s it.”

“If you say so.” He doesn’t look convinced. “You do realize you’re being stubborn, right?”

I take a long pull from my beer rather than responding. The last thing I need is relationship advice from Mr. Happily-Ever-After.

“She’s good at what she does,” Jonathan continues, while I watch Quinn chat animatedly with Kiera and Lyla across the room.

“I never said she wasn’t,” I counter, irritation seeping into my tone.

“No, you just said she betrayed our company secrets.” Jonathan’s voice is deceptively casual. “Which is interesting because after our meeting yesterday, I had our head of security run a trace on that leak last year. The IP address, though hidden impressively well, came back to a café in downtown Dallas—not New Mexico.”

I freeze. “What are you talking about?”

“You never asked for an investigation,” Jonathan says, his eyes steady on mine. “You just assumed it was her. I let it go at the time because you were convinced and seemed to need someone to blame. But after this past week, I decided to have Scott look into it quietly.”

The implications of what he’s saying crash over me like a cold shower. “Why the fuck are you telling me this now?”

“Because watching you two dance, and the way you look at her, is too special for it all to amount to nothing.” He claps a hand on my shoulder. “Maybe it’s time to consider that you might have been…wrong.”

He walks away before I can respond, leaving me rooted to the spot, mind racing with possibilities I’ve refused to consider for a year.

Across the room, Quinn laughs at something Mia says, her head thrown back, throat exposed. Beautiful. Untouchable. And possibly—the thought forms reluctantly, painfully—innocent.

I begin to wish for something stronger than beer. Hell, whiskey even.

This bet suddenly feels like the least of my problems.

Chapter Fourteen

Monday Morning

Quinn’s office

Quinn

Monday morning has greeted me with a pounding headache and memories I’d rather forget.

I massage my temples, willing the aspirin to kick in faster as I stare at the jumble of notes spread across my desk. A detailed layout of the property at the Solana venue, test shots, security options—all the elements of Jonathan and Kiera’s wedding that should have my complete professional attention.

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