Page 75 of How to Play the Player
“You did great! This went even better than expected. So now we have about two hours to set up the office the way we need to.”
We spend the next hour clearing my office of anything personal or sensitive, leaving only my new laptop on the desk as though it was on display like good bait. I store my old one in the back of my car. After that, Nathan has his very attractive head of security, Scott, come over, lending us a tiny but powerful camera. Before leaving and wishing us luck, he helps Nathan install it in just the right place. Obscured enough to where it can’t be spotted too easily, but just visible enough to capture the exact picture that we need.
With the last remaining hour, we go over our plan several times before we’re both satisfied, from the kind of small talk I’ll make to the excuse I’ll use to step out and leave her alone with my computer.
“What if she doesn’t try anything?” I ask, voicing my biggest concern.
“Then we wait,” Nathan replies, his confidence unwavering. “But she will. People like her can’t resist the opportunity. Especially when they’ve already gotten away with it once.”
At fifteen to seven, Nathan gathers his stuff. “I’ll head to the parking lot now. Remember, Quinn—no matter what she says, or what happens, stay calm. We need her to feel comfortable enough to be bold and make a move.”
“I will,” I promise, suddenly hesitating when he’s at the door. “Nathan…thank you. For believing me now.”
A complex expression crosses his face. I can’t tell if it’s regret, determination, or something softer I can’t quite name. “We’ll make this right,” he says simply.
He then exits with keys in hand, headed to prepare the final stages of our trap.
I quickly walk back to my desk, sitting in my office chair. As I wait, a storm of emotions churn inside me. This isn’t just about proving my innocence professionally anymore. It’s personal.
All those nights I spent crying, questioning everything, even my very existence, wondering how I could have lost Nathan so completely…but now I don’t have to anymore. Now, I can focus on getting justice. After that? I’ll have to figure what that will mean for my relationship with Nathan. Foolishly, I’m still in love with him, yet I don’t know if I can trust he won’t abandon me like he did.
Maybe that’s something he’d be willing to talk through with me.
But that’s only assuming he still feels the same about me too.
At five minutes before seven, I stand right beside the main door of the building. I then check my phone one last time—a text from Nathan confirms the camera is on and recording and he’s in position in his car. His presence nearby steadies me. Whatever happens next, I know I’m not facing it alone this time.
When Bethany walks through the door at two minutes before seven, a visceral reaction surges through me—anger, disgust. I see her now with new eyes.
Same sleek platinum blond bob, same calculating eyes, same perfect posture that always made me feel slightly inadequate. But now I can see the snake that lurks underneath that polished exterior.
“Quinn,” she says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You look…tired.”
I swallow the impulse to tell her exactly why I’ve been tired for the past year. Instead, I force a self-deprecating laugh and slip into the role I’ve prepared. It feels stifling, toxic, fake, and not me. “That’s what adjusting to solo life will do to you. Thanks for coming.” My voice comes out exactly right—a touch wistful, just vulnerable enough to be convincing.
As I lead her to my open office, memories flash through my mind: Bethany suggesting I take that weekend off for my cousin’s wedding. Bethany insisting on handling our tech setup. Bethany slowly questioning my judgment before and after the NorthStar leak, sowing seeds of doubt with our shared clients. All those coincidences now connecting into a pattern I was too trusting to see.
My heart pounds. Not with fear, but determination. I’m at ease knowing Nathan is watching through the camera, waiting.
Please make my year, and let me catch you red-handed. I dare you.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Quinn
Iforce myself through the conversation with Bethany, maintaining the vulnerable facade I’ve rehearsed. Despite my internal disgust, I deliver each line with calculated precision, watching her eyes occasionally dart to my new laptop with barely disguised interest.
“This place suits you; it’s cute,” she says, her gaze moving around my office in a meticulous assessment. “A bit small compared to what we had, but…quaint, charming.”
I swallow the urge to tell her to take her insult and shove it up her ass. To remind her she’s the reason I’m in this “quaint” space rather than the expansive office we once shared. Instead, I channel the sweet, slightly desperate persona she’s been used to me having and what I’ve perfected for this evening.
“It’s a start,” I say with a convincing smile. “You know how it is—building from scratch after…” I trail off meaningfully, letting her fill in the blanks on her own.
Her red lips curl into what might appear as a sympathetic smile to someone who doesn’t know her. “Of course. Starting over is never easy.”
A few moments later, my phone buzzes in my pocket—right on schedule and so desperately needed. The predetermined signal from Nathan.
“Sorry,” I say, glancing at the screen with carefully manufactured concern. “It’s my new client. I should probably take this—high profile.”
