Page 40 of How to Play the Player

Knight Industries

Nathan

I’ve barely slept.

After Jonathan’s revelation last night, I spent hours awake staring at my ceiling, memories of Quinn playing over and over in my head, with doubts I’ve refused to entertain until now. The possibility that I might’ve been wrong has shaken my foundation in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

So this morning, I arrive early to the office and pull up server logs and security records from the time of the NorthStar leak.I’m not sure what I’m looking for—confirmation that Quinn is guilty as I’ve believed for twelve months? Or evidence that I’ve spent all that time blaming the wrong person?

My dance with Quinn last night seems the least of my worries now. But holding her in my arms again had me feeling a connection I thought was dead. A connection that goes far deeper than the physical. Fuck, was it never superficial in the first place?

Images from last night flash through my mind—her body pressed against mine as we danced, the softness of her skin beneath my fingers, the moment when our lips were about to meet. That almost kiss, the way her lips parted in anticipation, felt as passionate as a tango between two lovers.

“You want to tell me why you’re digging into year-old server logs on a Monday morning?” Jake’s voice startles me, and I quickly minimize the screen in front of me.

“Just following up on something,” I reply, trying to sound casual.

Jake closes my office door before dropping into the chair across from me. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with what Jonathan told you last night, would it?”

Of course Jake would know about this. Those two don’t keep anything from each other. “I’m just doing my due diligence.”

“A year later?” Jake stares at me incredulously. “That’s some delayed due diligence.”

I lean back in my chair, rubbing my temples. I’ve been staring at logs and reports all morning, looking for something, a smoking gun, anything that might support or contradict Jonathan’s hell of a bombshell. Anything to get me something concrete, anything to tamp this panic within me.

The possibility the leak came from a place where Quinn wasn’t is something I can’t bring myself to just ignore. Not when that theory is starting to feel like it holds more merit.

She could’ve had someone do it for her.

The thought had crossed my mind several times, but that’s another one of several things I have to find out on my own. Whether she did it herself, hired someone, or otherwise, I have to at least try to find something to make either story plausible.

“I need to know,” I admit finally. “If there’s even a chance that I…” I can’t finish the sentence, the implications too overwhelming to voice aloud.

“That you what?” Jake presses. “Made a mistake? Blamed the wrong person? Threw away something real because you were too up in your head to consider other ideas?”

His bluntness makes me wince. If the truth is she never betrayed us, betrayed me, I’ll have a lot of guilt to face. “I’m just covering my bases,” I say defensively, though we both know it’s more than that.

Jake studies me for a moment. “Would it be the end of the world if you were wrong about her?”

The possibility sits like a stone in my gut, heavy and uncomfortable. For twelve months, I’ve been absolutely certain Quinn betrayed me. That certainty is what fueled everything—my actions, my words. I did it all to prove I’d moved on. If that certainty crumbles…

“I need to be sure,” I say finally. “Before I do anything.”

“Like what?” Jake presses. “Apologize? Try to make amends? Grovel? Love her into oblivion the next time you’re alone together?”

“I haven’t gotten that far.” There’s a strong chance she’ll never forgive me. No matter what happens, there are two scenarios where I’d be the asshole. And my gut is telling me it’d be the punishment I deserve. “It’s not that simple,” I mutter.

“You’re right, it isn’t.” Jake sighs. “Have you considered just asking her? Directly? Without accusations or assumptions?”

The very thing I was too proud to do in the first place?

What I considered just fun at the time of making the bet with Quinn now feels like just another way I’ve tried to avoid confronting the real issues between us. The issues that I created in the name of my pride.

“I have Scott pulling everything we have on the leak,” I say, redirecting the conversation. “IP addresses, timestamps, server access logs—all of it.”

Jake looks surprised. “I see.”

“He said he’d have the files ready in the next few hours.”

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