Chapter Six
Quinn
T he pit in my stomach that I’d managed to calm while the two men were gone is now out of my control again as I watch them reenter the dining room and stand at the head of the table. Jonathan carries himself with such authority, like someone who’s accustomed to getting exactly what he wants. And Nathan—God, the way his jaw tightens when he’s cornered… I used to trace that jawline with my fingertips in quieter moments.
Stop it, Quinn. Focus
I inhale deeply, trying to steady my racing pulse. Jonathan is relaxed and confident, while Nathan is rigid with tension. I’m careful not to meet Nathan’s gaze. My laptop screen suddenly becomes fascinating as I feel his eyes burn into me. When I do eventually look up, his expression shifts from open hostility to something more calculated.
The silence stretches for what feels like an eternity until Jonathan breaks the ice. “Thank you, Ms. Clark and Ms. Sanders for coming today. I’m glad we could make such excellent progress and look forward to making more in the coming weeks.”
So he still wants me working for them. That’s something, at least.
I release a quiet sigh of relief, already mentally calculating what this contract could mean for my fledgling business. After Bethany gutted our client list in the split, this high-profile wedding could be exactly what I need to rebuild. Not just financially—though the six-figure payday would certainly keep my new office lights on—but as a showcase for what I can accomplish on my own. Achieving success in this gig could attract the kind of clients who would decide to seek me out without a second thought, not the other way around.
“The pleasure is all ours, Mr. Knight. We look forward to making this day special for you and Kiera,” Lyla explains.
I interject. “I’ll get started on brainstorming for posts for next week and email you a mock social media schedule by Friday.”
Thinking this signals our dismissal, Lyla and I begin gathering our things when Jonathan’s voice stops us. “Don’t leave quite yet. I have something else to discuss.”
We exchange glances, unsure what he’ll say, but then settle back into our seats.
“Today has given me a lot to think about,” Jonathan continues, “and I think most people would agree that the work you have on your plate, Ms. Sanders, is quite the tall order.”
I shake my head with a warm smile. “I appreciate the concern, but this is standard scope for me. What matters most is ensuring you and your fiancée enjoy your wedding day.”
“I couldn’t agree more. But still, the last thing I want is for you to be overwhelmed by the scale of this wedding.”
Where is he going with this? “That isn’t?—”
“Which made me then think perhaps two sets of hands are better than one.”
“I assure you, if need be, I can hire a part-time assistant and provide consistent communication with you and Kiera regarding my progress.”
Jonathan pauses before turning his attention to his brother. “Nathan, you’ve always been there to lend a helping hand. Not just as your job but also as my brother. I thank you for that. I especially see your strong interest in being involved in this wedding, wanting to ensure things function to our satisfaction.”
“Uh, yeah, I do.” Nathan looks as confused as I feel by this turn in the conversation.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page. You see, my workload at Knight Industries has unexpectedly increased over the last couple of weeks, which will make me less available for much of the planning process for a while.” Jonathan then turns to me with a warm smile. “Which is why I would like you and Nathan to work together.”
I blink, certain I’ve misheard. “I’m sorry?”
Wait, did he just say that?
I glance at Nathan, whose expression has transformed from confusion to horror. “Yeah, come again?”
Glancing toward Lyla, I find her looking just as confused. Across the table, Kami’s momentary surprise shifts to a smirk, as though she’d just figured out what’s going on.
Jonathan continues, unperturbed by our reactions. “Nathan, with you having our best interests at heart, you can work closely with Quinn to ensure everything goes smoothly. This way, if Kiera and I are unavailable, Quinn has someone to direct her questions to. I’m thinking you two meeting twice weekly for planning sessions should be enough, with both of you coordinating media responses and approving all content before it goes live.”
My heart feels like it’s dropping into my stomach. Twice weekly sessions? Coordinating responses? This isn’t occasional contact—Jonathan is essentially making Nathan my equal partner, an arrangement neither of us wants.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I say carefully, weighing each word as I try to think of a way to talk my client out of this horrible idea. This contract could make or break my new business, and working directly with my ex is a liability in and of itself. “I’ve managed similar projects independently before. Surely?—”
“I’m sure you have,” Jonathan interrupts with an unperturbed smile that doesn’t invite further discussion. “But this isn’t just any wedding. Knight Industries has shareholders, board members, and tech journalists watching our every move. Having Nathan’s direct involvement ensures seamless alignment between our corporate and personal messaging.”
I look desperately at Lyla, silently begging for her intervention. I need this contract, but at what cost to my sanity?
“We completely understand,” Lyla answers for me, her tone far more enthusiastic than I feel.
I close my eyes briefly, hoping this is some twisted dream. When I open them, nothing has changed. This is happening, and I’m trapped between professional necessity and a personal nightmare.
“J, this is ridiculous,” Nathan interjects, his voice quiet. “Quinn doesn’t need babysitting, and I don’t need?—”
Jonathan cuts him off. “Consider it a collaboration. And before you continue to argue, it’s nonnegotiable.”
What the client says goes. Nathan may be able to argue this decision, but I can’t afford to.
I set my feelings of shock and panic to the side, replacing them with a strained professional smile. “Not a problem, Mr. Knight.” As much as I don’t want to do this, I need the money and professional recognition more.
“Great!” Jonathan interjects. “I’ll let you two work out the finer details. Oh, and for compensation, charge us your usual rates plus an inconvenience fee for any…challenges this arrangement might present to you.”
“Are you insane?” Nathan yells abruptly at his older brother, glaring at him as though he’s just suggested we jump off a cliff together.
“No, but I am starving,” Jonathan replies with a hint of smugness. “Who’s hungry? I could use some pizza and a good beer right about now.” Without waiting for an answer, he walks into the kitchen, leaving stunned silence in his wake.
Jake looks utterly confused. “Hey, J, wait a minute.” He follows Jonathan out.
Kami stands, smoothly gathering Kiera and Mia. “Kiera, remember that new snack you wanted to try out?”
“Snack? What are you—” Kiera begins, then catches Mia’s pointed look. “Oh! Yeah, that snack.”
Lyla hesitates, clearly torn between supporting me and giving us space. Before she can decide, Kami deftly hooks an arm through hers, pulling her into the kitchen. “Lyla, you have to try it with us.”
Once my bestie has left the room, loud silence falls between Nathan and me. The realization we are alone becomes all too real, the tension thick enough to cut with even the dullest knife.
How did I end up here? One minute I’m building my business from scratch, the next I’m trapped in a room with the man who broke my heart, accused me of betraying him, and ruined my reputation. Jonathan has a sick sense of humor if he thinks having us work together is a good idea.
I push back from the table, gathering the courage to quickly retreat. But before I can stand, Nathan is there, moving with that athlete’s grace I’d once found so captivating. He blocks my path, his broad shoulders and imposing height turning him into a human wall between me and escape. His quick actions should scare me, but being this close to him again has my heart fluttering.
“Not so fast. We need to talk.” His cold fury mixed with our proximity sends shivers down my spine. At the same time, I find the contrast between what we once were and what we are now to be jarring—this angry stranger versus the man who once looked at me like I was his world.
“Okay. Then talk.” I do my best to make myself look undeterred despite the mixed emotions building inside.
His left temple pulses visibly; he clenches his jaw. “If you were smart, you’d leave and never come back.”
Who the hell does he think he is? He has no proof I betrayed him, yet he still has the audacity to threaten me. After he ghosted me without an explanation, much less hearing my side of the story. After seeing those photos of him with other women for the world to see. And now he’s trying to intimidate me out of a job I earned on my own merit?
Hell no!
Despite my anger, I force my expression into professional neutrality, refusing to let him drag me down to his level. “Is that supposed to scare me?”
“I’m simply advising you.” His tone says what his words don’t: my way or the highway.
“And why should I take it?” I keep my voice level, meeting his glare. “Last time I checked, you’re not the one I’m working for. You don’t get to dictate my decisions.”
He steps closer, and it takes everything in me to stand my ground under his heated gaze. “You can mess with me, but I won’t let you hurt my family again.”
“Why would I?” The accusation stings.
He makes a sound of frustration, somewhere between a scoff and a growl. “Keep lying to me all you want, but you don’t fool me. I won’t let you ruin my brother’s wedding day for a paycheck.”
“Nathan, you know me. You know I’d never do that. I never did to begin with. Why can’t you see that?”
“I can’t ignore the facts.” He dodges my questions.
“Yet you’ll ignore my side of the story? Was this always your opinion of me, even when we were dating?”
His expression falters for just a moment, uncertainty crossing his features before the hardness returns. “I don’t regret choosing my family over you.”
Ignoring the sting of his admission, I straighten in my chair. “Look, it’s obvious we’re stuck with each other for a while. So if we’re going to work together, we'll need to establish clear boundaries and workflows. I can’t have decisions second-guessed at every turn.”
“Don’t think this is about control for me,” Nathan said, his voice dropping lower. “It’s about making sure nothing goes wrong.”
He makes me sound like I’m a prisoner who could escape their cell at any time. “So I’m not allowed to do my job because you don’t trust me?” I argue, raising an eyebrow.
He grimaces at my calling him out. “I know you’re capable, Quinn. That was never in question. It’s your motives I don’t trust.”
I expected him to acknowledge how little he thinks of me, but to hear his begrudging acknowledgment of my professional competence is something I didn’t see coming. The fact it seems so easy for him to just dismiss everything we were to each other is almost baffling.
Despite my anger and frustration, I can’t help but notice his eyes are dark—like the color of whiskey in the late afternoon light—when he’s angry, another tell I’d once found endearing. How can I prove my innocence to this man when he’s already decided I’m guilty?
Would proving my innocence at this point be worth it? I could have the best PI in Dallas investigate, and he’d still not believe me.
“Your attitude right now isn’t about protecting your family. This is about your ego.” I meet his gaze steadily. “And your inability to consider that maybe, just maybe, you’re wrong about me.”
He shakes his head. “I know I’m right. You’re the only person I ever opened up to. Not once did I tell anyone else what I told you. Ever. And the one time I say a name, I say it to you. And when I did, the whole world found out. Where do you think my mind went when that happened?”
How could something I had no control over ruin my life? Something I wasn’t even around for when it happened? His argument may be valid, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t wrong.
“Don’t you see?” He pulls me from my thoughts. “All the evidence points to you.”
I’ve tried giving him logic. I’ve tried making him see reason. He has such an airtight perspective, it’s hard for me to plead my case. The only argument I haven’t given him, however, is an emotional one.
“And rather than believe me, the woman you said you were in love with, you choose to blame me instead. Did our relationship mean that little to you? Was it so easy to throw away everything we built together?”
“You made your choices, so I made mine.”
I keep going, my voice softening despite my anger. “Why would I sacrifice my relationship with you for money? I loved you, Nathan. You had my heart.” I realize we’re both tense with emotion. I take a deep breath before I finish. “And most importantly…why would I lie to you about it to this day, when I have nothing to gain?”
A brief silence falls between us. Nathan’s jaw works as he stares at me; a complex array of emotions flashes in his eyes until he finally responds. “I stand by what I know.” Despite his seemingly strong statement, there’s the slightest hint of uncertainty in his voice.
Did I actually get through to him? Or am I just seeing what I want to see?
Even if I was, we’d still be talking in circles, getting nowhere and wasting time I don’t have. We’ve been stuck in this perpetual state of argument for a year. And now Jonathan has bound us together like two cats in a sack, forced to either make peace or scratch each other to pieces. I know which one Nathan would prefer.
“Look, the point of who did what is moot now.” I shift the conversation to practical ground. “What matters now is the position we’ve been put in. You want to protect your brother’s wedding; I get that. I need this contract to keep my new business afloat. So like I said before, we establish clear boundaries, define our respective responsibilities, and minimize our direct interaction.”
Nathan raises an eyebrow at first, clearly surprised by my ability to change the subject on him so fast.
I continue. “Twice weekly meetings, as Jonathan suggested. Email for everything else. You handle family approvals while I’ll manage media relations. We present a united front to your brother and Kiera, regardless of our personal feelings. Can you meet me at my office tomorrow at ten a.m.?” I hand him my business card with my phone number and new office address listed. “Do we have a deal?” I hold out my hand, a professional gesture that costs me more than he knows.
He stares at my outstretched hand, conflict visible in his expression.
“The sooner you let me do my job, the quicker I can finish this project and get out of your life for good.” The words taste bitter, but they’re true. And they’re no doubt exactly what he wants to hear.
If only he truly knew what his actions against me cost me professionally. To add on top of walking away from a toxic business partner, I lost clients, speaking engagements, and I spent a year rebuilding what his assumptions destroyed in a day. So no, I won’t be walking away from this opportunity. Not when I’ve fought this hard to get back to where I was.
Letting out a deep sigh, he accepts my outstretched hand. “You have a deal, but you’re on very thin ice.”
“Fine. Now get out of my way.” I push past him, collecting my laptop and shoving it into my bag. “Lyla,” I call out. “We’re leaving.”
Lyla appears quickly, a plate of pizza in hand. Seeing me packing up, she follows suit and, a moment later, meets me at the front door.
“I’ll go start the car,” she tells me, escaping the tension that crackles between Nathan and me.
“Tell your brother I said thanks for having us. I’ll email him more details tomorrow, and I expect to see you Thursday morning.” I head for the door, but Nathan’s grip on my forearm stops me, gentle but firm.
“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.” Another warning in his tone.
For a brief moment, I see a different emotion past the anger. Pain, maybe? Regret? But it’s likely I could just be seeing things. There was once a time we could read each other so well, knew what the other was thinking or feeling. Now he’s like a stranger to me, speaking a language I don’t remember him learning.
“Oh, I do.” I meet his gaze one last time. “So don’t be late.” I open the door and step into the afternoon sunlight, refusing to look back.
This contract, this arrangement between Nathan and me, could make or break my career. So failure isn’t an option, even when success means months of professional purgatory with the man who broke my heart.