Page 61 of How to Play the Player

Chapter Twenty

Dallas Lifestyle HQ

Quinn

TheDallas Lifestylemagazine office buzzes with activity as I stride through the glass doors, Lyla at my side. I’ve pushed my emotions deep down, locked them away where they can’t interfere with what needs to be done. My eyes may still be slightly puffy from crying, but the distraction of work is keeping me together.

“Quinn!” Sarah Reynolds, the lifestyle editor, greets me with a warm hug. Her long, braided hair sweeps across her back as she pulls back to study my face. “It’s been too long. Wish we were meeting for drinks rather than work.”

“Me, too.” I manage a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “Thank you for making time on such short notice.”

Sarah waves away my thanks, leading us to her office. “For you? Always. Besides, you just gave me the biggest scoop. Not everyone can say they I have Knight Industries’ CEO giving theman exclusive. The entire media landscape will be blowing up my phone after this.”

Her casual enthusiasm makes me wince internally, but I keep my professional facade. This may be gossip fodder to her, but it isn’t to me; it’s my client’s lives, their reputations, their future family.

“My clients should be here any minute,” I say, checking my watch. “We appreciate your willingness to let them tell their story directly.”

Her office is about what anyone would expect from a lifestyle editor—stylish without being ostentatious and comfortable without being bleak or too casual. The walls display several frames of magazine covers, articles, and photographs with celebrities. They’re subtle reminders she’s well-connected in the city’s social circles.

“Coffee?” she offers, gesturing to a sleek machine in the corner.

“With cream please,” Lyla answers for both of us, sensing my distraction as I scan the talking points on my phone one last time.

My phone buzzes with a text from Jonathan.

Five minutes out.

I scan through my notes one last time, mentally rehearsing how to guide the interview. Jonathan and Keira’s genuine love story has to shine through today—their excitement about their wedding plans, the natural progression of their relationship, and as much as I’d rather not get on the topic, the baby will have to be included, all the while not mentioning that hit piece directly. I’ll make that look like cheap tabloid gossip.

People respond to authenticity, and these two have it in spades.

“Everything okay?” Lyla asks quietly, handing me a cup of coffee.

“Fine.” I say that word, but we both know it’s a bold-faced lie. Nothing is fine—everything is on fire. Though the situation with my clients is slowly being handled, it’s the accusations thrown at me combined with what happened with Nathan this morning. The memory of his touch, followed so quickly by his cold dismissal, threatens to crack the professional face I’ve so carefully constructed for today. I push down the sadness again, harder this time.

When this day is over, and I’ve listened to whatever new mean thing Nathan has to say about me, I’ll fill up a glass of wine to the brim, draw myself a bath, and have a good cry.

Sarah returns from greeting someone at the door. “They’re here,” she announces with the subtle excitement of a journalist about to land a major story.

Jonathan and Kiera enter, and my heart twists at the sight of them. Despite their polished appearances—Jonathan in a crisp black suit, Kiera in a simple, elegant, pink maternity dress—I see the strain around their eyes, the tension in their postures. Yet they’re here, putting on brave faces, facing the public scrutiny together.

Now that is love. Nathan wouldn’t know what that is.

I rise to greet them, professional smile in place. “Jonathan, Kiera. Thank you for coming.”

“We can’t thank you enough for arranging this,” Jonathan replies with a firm CEO voice mixed with what sounds like gratitude.

Kiera’s embrace catches me off guard—warm and genuine. “We appreciate everything you’re doing,” she whispers before pulling away, one hand protectively over her baby bump.

Her kindness goes further than anything else to undo me. After the day I’ve had already, after the doubt that must beswirling in their minds about my involvement, they’re still treating me with respect? The trust they’re placing in me feels precious yet precarious.

“Shall we get started?” Sarah gestures toward comfortable seating arranged for the interview. A photographer hovers nearby, camera ready. “We’ll do the photos first if that works for everyone.”

I nod, guiding Kiera and Jonathan through the process with quiet efficiency. The photographer positions them near a window where natural light bathes them in a warm glow—his arm around her waist, her hand resting over her belly. Their expressions are almost relaxed and intimate. If the words don’t, the images will tell their own story: a couple in love, so much ahead of them to look forward to, untouched by scandal.

As the interview begins, I sit slightly behind them, close enough to intervene if needed but giving them space to speak. Sarah starts with softball questions about their first meeting, how Jonathan proposed, their excitement about finding out they’re pregnant.

“We met when I was interviewing Kiera for an executive assistant position,” Jonathan explains. “I knew immediately she was exceptional.”

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