Page 54 of How to Play the Player

My stomach clenches. “Who do you think knew those details?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Our immediate circle,” Jonathan says, resuming his pacing. “You, Jake, Ian, Mia, Kami?—”

“Quinn,” I finish for him, the name tasting bitter on my tongue.

“And Marco, who helped set up the proposal,” Kiera adds. “My sister, crazy enough, who helped pick the ring. Even my parents, who Jonathan asked for permission.”

I hadn’t known about those last few. The circle is wider than I realized. The possibility of another suspect begins to form in my mind, but I push it away. The facts point to Quinn, just like last time.

“That’s a lot of potential sources,” I say, trying to sound objective.

“It is,” Jonathan agrees, stopping to look at me directly. “Which is why jumping to conclusions would be premature and foolish.”

The pointed remark doesn’t escape me. I look away, unwilling to meet my brother’s knowing gaze. “I was in Quinn’s office when the story broke. She claims she’s innocent.”

“And?” Jonathan prompts.

“What else is there?” I snap, frustration bubbling over. “She claimed innocence the last time. Remember where that got us?”

Jonathan and Kiera exchange a glance I can’t quite interpret. “Was she in the room with you when the story broke?” Jonathan asks carefully.

How do I tell my brother my head was between her legs when the news hit?

Heat creeps up my neck. “Yes. We were reviewing the plans.”

“I see,” Kiera says softly.

“Anyway, stories like this take time to put together, so she could’ve conspired with Steinfeld from the moment she started working with us.”

“Or she could be innocent,” Jonathan points out. “Have you at least considered that possibility? Seriously considered it?”

I choose not to answer, but there’s no denying his words land hard. The doubt I’ve been suppressing surfaces again.

Jonathan sighs, rubbing his temples. “Nathan, I need your logical brain, not your pride. Your beef with Quinn needs to take a backseat to this crisis.”

He may be right, but I can’t entirely eliminate her as a suspect. For now, I push aside thoughts of Quinn. Her touch, taste, and tears aren’t part of the problem at hand.

“What do you need from me?” I ask, straightening in my chair.

“Schedule an emergency board meeting for an hour from now. If we’re going to convince them not to do anything rash, we need to present a united front. That means I need you solid, focused, and on my side.” Jonathan’s voice is steady, his CEO persona still firmly in place. “And if we’re to weather this storm, I need you to work with Quinn on our response. She’ll know what to do.”

I blink. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious,” he counters. “This is what we hired her for.”

“After everything she’s?—”

Jonathan cuts me off. “We don’t know she did anything, and neither do you,” His voice is stern. “What we do know is she’d meticulously created our crisis management plan. She talked us through each detail, each possible scenario. In fact, her work surpasses what our own house team could do.”

She would’ve created a perfect plan if she knew the leak was coming. It makes sense. But a small voice in my head argues that it could also be professional foresight. A doubt I can’t seem to shake.

“Enlighten me, then. What’s her plan?” I ask, my voice clipped.

Jonathan hands me a red folder. “See for yourself.”

I skim the crisis management plan quickly, grudgingly impressed by its thoroughness despite myself.

“The strategy is solid, strategic, and could potentially be very effective,” Jonathan praises.

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