Page 58 of How to Play the Player

“Ready?” Lyla asks, gathering her things. “I’ll drive. Better if I deal with Dallas traffic so you can focus.”

I nod, slipping on my jacket. “Let’s do this shit.”

“And later, when this is all over, we’re going to blow off some steam at that rage room you like and then get stupid drunk with tequila at your place.”

I like the sound of that. “Deal.”

And later, I promise to myself silently, I’ll figure out who’s really behind all of this.

Even if one Knight will never know just how much I still love him, despite everything.

Chapter Nineteen

Knight Industries

Nathan

The emergency board meeting drags into its second hour, voices rising and falling around the polished conference table as Knight Industries’ leadership debates the potential fallout from today’s article. I’ve been silent for the past twenty minutes, watching Jonathan handle the concerned questions with the practiced diplomacy that makes him such an effective CEO.

My mind, however, is elsewhere.

The image of Quinn’s face when I accused her haunts me. I remember seeing hurt, anger, and something like resignation in her eyes. As if she’d expected nothing better from me. As though I’d just confirmed her worst assumptions about who I am. And now the memory of her body—how she felt under my hands, how she tasted—mixes with the bitterness of what came after.

“Nathan?” Jonathan’s voice pulls me back to the present. “Your thoughts on the investor concerns?”

All eyes turn to me. I straighten in my chair. “The media coverage won’t impact our third-quarter deliverables,” I state firmly, addressing the actual business concern. “Our development timeline for the security platform remains on schedule, and all pending contracts are proceeding as planned. This personal matter has no bearing on Knight Industries’ operations, capabilities, or financial outlook.”

One of the board members, Eileen Grey, speaks up. “With all due respect, any public scrutiny of leadership creates market uncertainty. Three investors have already called my office before this meeting was even scheduled.”

“Which is why we have a comprehensive media strategy in place,” Jonathan interjects smoothly. “We’re addressing this head-on with an exclusive interview this afternoon that will clarify the facts and redirect the narrative. By tomorrow, this will be old news.”

“And who’s handling this media response?” another board member, Richard Warren, asks, tapping his pen against the long, polished table. “Given the…delicate nature of the situation.”

“We’ve brought in specialized PR support,” I explain, carefully avoiding mentioning Quinn by name. “Someone with extensive experience in high-profile crisis management.”

The board doesn’t need to know about our personal history or my suspicions. What they need is confidence that Knight Industries can weather this storm without operational impact.

“Our primary concern is preventing disruption to business operations,” Jonathan adds. “I’ve already spoken with our top three clients personally to assure them that this has no impact on their projects.”

“And your focus?” Eileen directs this question specifically to Jonathan. “The company needs your full attention, especially with the Ericsson presentation coming up.”

“My personal life has never interfered with my leadership of this company,” Jonathan responds, a hint of steel beneath his professional tone. “That hasn’t changed. My team is fully prepared for Ericsson, and I’ll be leading the presentation as planned.”

The conversation shifts to quarterly projections and upcoming product launches—business as usual. This is why Jonathan excels as CEO. He has redirected their attention back to what actually matters: the company’s performance and future.

My phone vibrates with an incoming text. Quinn. I notice she’s put my number in a group text with Jake, Kiera, and Jonathan.

Sending interview talking points. Focus on authentic relationship, future plans, excitement about wedding and baby. Avoid corporate questions or any questions about Knight Industries. The editor promised final approval on copy.

Professional, focused, and nothing more. I type a brief acknowledgment, conscious of the board members’ attention. Inside, though, my thoughts are anything but brief.

As I set my phone back in my pocket, it vibrates again—this time a private text from Scott.

Update: Article was scheduled for automatic publishing three days ago. Whoever leaked the info did so BEFORE your meeting with Ms. Sanders this morning. Still investigating source.

I stare at the message, my throat suddenly dry. Three days ago. Well before Quinn and I were together in her office. This doesn’t exonerate her completely—she could’ve provided the details earlier, knowing the story would break eventually—but it does complicate my immediate accusations.

The anonymous text I received earlier weighs on my mind:Quinn Sanders will ruin your reputation like she’s done to you before.The wording feels personal, targeted. Someone knows about our history, about my suspicions.

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