Page 16 of Dirty Play

“Two days,” I say. “That’s plenty of time to fit it into your schedule.”

“You really are a mosquito.”

“And you’re a stubborn mule,” I shoot back. “You’re doing the interview, Rowan. I don’t care how many jokes or games you throw at me.”

“And I don’t care how many times you insist,” he counters.

There’s a heat in his gaze now, something intense that makes me want to back up and stand my ground all at once.

“Fine,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “If you don’t agree to the interview, I’ll just report this little ‘kiss me’ stunt to HR.”

“You wouldn’t.” His eyes darken, the playful glint vanishing.

“Oh, I absolutely would,” I say, injecting confidence into my voice, even though my palms are sweating.

“It was a fucking joke,” he grits out.

“Let’s see what HR makes of it.” I lift my chin.

“Are you blackmailing me?” he asks, his tone deadly calm.

“Me?” I raise my eyebrows in mock innocence.

The room feels eerily quiet as Rowan stares at me, his jaw tightening. The playful glint in his eyes is gone, replaced by something darker and angrier. His posture stiffens, and his hands curl into fists at his sides.

He’s pissed.

No, furious.

And I can’t even blame him. I know blackmail is unethical, but what choice do I have? He basically handed me the leverage on a silver platter with that little “kiss me” joke, and I’m not about to let it go to waste.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, Moody.” His voice is a low growl when he finally speaks.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I shrug, keeping my expression as neutral as possible, even though my heart is pounding in my chest.

His nostrils flare, and for a second, I wonder if I’ve finally pushed him too far. He takes a step toward me, the heat of his fury radiating off him like a storm about to break.

“I don’t like being cornered,” he says, his tone razor-sharp.

“And I don’t like being ignored,” I fire back, refusing to let him intimidate me. “So, I guess we’re even.”

“Do you know who you’re playing with?” His eyes narrow, the green storm swirling with a dangerous edge.

“The team needs this interview, Rowan. You need to flip your image in the press. I’m going to help you do it. And if that means playing dirty to make it happen, so be it.”

The muscles in his jaw flex as he stares me down before he just exhales sharply, shaking his head.

“You’re insane,” he mutters, turning away from me.

Is that…Did I just win?

“Two days,” I remind him, dropping my hands at my sides as I watch him grab his towel and sling it over his shoulder.

He doesn’t look back at me nor say anything as he walks toward the door.

The weight of what I’ve done settles over me like a lead blanket. I run a hand through my hair, my stomach twisting with guilt and adrenaline.

I know it was a low blow. I know I shouldn’t have gone there. But Rowan DiMarco is as stubborn as they come, and if I don’t push, nothing gets done.

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