Page 98 of Pressure

Lance waited for the man to acknowledge that he was ready.

When he did, Lance spilled everything.

"Wow. That's pretty insane. You really think she's trying to hurt you?"

"I don't know what to think. I just know I fucked everything up last time by jumping to conclusions. But the credentials don't seem to lie. My gut tells me she wouldn't do that to me, but I can't ignore what's staring me right in the fucking face can I?"

It sounded like Patrick was tapping his fingers against a wooden surface as he contemplated Lance's question.

"I think you should talk to her. You know her and you'll be able to tell if she's keeping something from you. I'm not suggesting you beat it out of her, but maybe your dominance will coax her into a confession—if she has anything to confess that is."

A door slammed in the background and Patrick cursed. "Hang on man. I think she might have overheard me."

Lance's gut lurched. God damn it.

When Patrick returned, he was out of breath.

"She definitely heard us, and she took it the wrong way. I'm going to go out on a limb and say she's innocent and you have a brief window to fix things between you two."

"Ah Christ. Did you have me on speaker or something?"

"Yeah but I'm in the bar, she was holed up in the conference room. I thought I was safe."

"Jesus, Patrick. I gotta go. Keep an eye on her please. She gets reckless when she's upset."

"I'll do my best, man."

When Patrick hung up, Lance tried to call her, but she didn't answer.

He sent her a text.

Whatever you heard it's not what you think.

She sent him the middle finger emoji.

Yep. She was pissed.

♦♦♦♦

Marissa felt like she was going to be sick again as she packed her bag. She'd booked a flight back to Chicago that left in four hours.

Patrick and Austin both tried to talk to her, but she sent them away. Lance had called a dozen times and sent at least four texts. But she didn't have the heart to talk to him. He thought she might try to sabotage him. It was five years ago all over again.

How could she have been so fucking stupid?

As she looked around the room for the last of her belongings, she dialed Elijah Barrett's number.

"Mr. Barrett, it's Marissa Sullivan."

"Marissa. Lance told me about the servers. Are you alright?"

"I'm good. Listen, I've done the job I was asked to do. I was just staying out of loyalty to Lance, but that's..." she paused. "I'm leaving. I would like payment as soon as possible please."

Elijah was quiet for a moment. "I'll be happy to initiate payment right away. I hope you're not leaving us for good. We've enjoyed having you at Solitaire."

She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. She really didn't want to cry.

"I'm sorry. I just don't know what the future holds right now. I'm leaving on the next flight to Chicago though. I appreciate the job."

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