Chapter Twelve
Saturday, 10 a.m
Knight Industries
Quinn
T he Knight Industries building sits in Dallas’s tech corridor—fifteen floors of glass and steel housing the company Nathan had described with such pride during our relationship. I’d drive past it every day on the way to the office I shared with Bethany. Each glimpse, after everything, became a heavy reminder of what I’d lost. Entering the building, however, brings an entirely different feeling.
Despite the fact I’ve never walked in the building before, I stride confidently toward the reception desk, drawing on years of experience visiting client headquarters. The weekend security guard glances up as I approach.
“Good morning. I have a ten o’clock appointment with Jonathan Knight.”
He checks his tablet, nodding. “Yes, Ms. Sanders. Mr. Knight is expecting you. Head up to the fourth floor.” He hands me a visitor badge. “The executive elevator is to your right.”
The ride up the elevator gives me a moment to mentally review my presentation. Through the reflection of the doors, I check my appearance, adjusting my cream silk blouse and smoothing the navy pencil skirt that hugs my curves. The outfit is just enough to be tempting without coming off as provocative.
After yesterday’s close success with the black dress, I’ve decided to switch things up. I’ve chosen softer colors, but with details Nathan wouldn’t miss. The top’s subtle drape accentuates my neckline; the skirt’s high waist emphasizes my figure. Before I can adjust any more of my outfit, the elevator dings, indicating I’m at the fourth floor.
Showtime!
The doors open to Knight Industries’ main floor. An open-concept space similar to many tech companies I’ve worked with. The weekend brings a quieter atmosphere throughout the floor, with only a few employees at their stations.
I barely step out of the elevator when Jonathan appears from around a corner, his face lighting up with recognition.
“Quinn! Thanks for coming,” he says, extending his hand, “especially on a Saturday and on short notice.”
“Not a problem,” I reply, shaking his hand firmly. I do my best to always be available for my clients.
“Follow me,” he says, guiding me through the space toward a corridor to private offices. Everything about the environment screams success—from state-of-the-art technology to modern art adorning the walls. A far cry from the humble beginnings Nathan used to describe in late-night conversations.
Jonathan pushes open a door at the end of the hallway. “Feel free to make yourself comfortable.”
The office is spacious and tastefully appointed. Large windows offer a panoramic view of the city. The sleek furniture is in muted tones. And family photos are artfully arranged on a credenza. It’s polished, but with a personal touch.
I step inside, maintaining my professional smile even as my gaze lands on Nathan.
He sits on one of the chairs closest to the windows. Somehow, he looks even more devastatingly handsome. He remembered I was always a sucker for when he was in a dress shirt and jeans. His bulging muscles are all but on display. The definition of them shows the countless hours at the gym. His expression reveals an unusual sense of confidence, as though I’ve already fallen into some trap of his. My mouth goes dry as his eyes meet mine. A familiar dull ache between my thighs makes its appearance known to me. I do my best to avoid biting my lip.
“Forgive me,” he says, gesturing to his clothes. “Weekend office policy.”
Right. Like he didn’t know exactly what he was doing.
I smile sweetly toward my ex, as if I’m unbothered. “No apology necessary.”
Jonathan motions for me to take a seat at the small conference table just a few steps away from Nathan. As soon as I sit down, I watch him sit adjacent to Jonathan.
Jonathan carries on like nothing is happening. “Coffee?”
“Please. One cream and one sugar,” I say, setting my laptop and portfolio on the table. Like I planned, I bend to retrieve a pen that “accidentally” slips from my fingers. Almost immediately, I feel Nathan’s gaze tracking the movement. I know he can see within my cleavage as I stay in this position. When I do straighten, his eyes snap back to Jonathan, jaw tight.
And that’s another point for me!
“So,” Jonathan begins once we’re all settled, “after yesterday’s venue tour, I’m even more convinced you’re the right person for this job, Quinn. Your suggestions about security and media management are exactly what Kiera and I had hoped for.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I reply, genuinely pleased at the vote of confidence. “Solana Vineyard offers excellent natural privacy advantages. We just need to build on that foundation with a little bit of strategic planning.”
Jonathan smiles, continuing, “I’d like to finalize the social media announcement strategy. With six months to go, we’d like to start engaging with the public sooner rather than later.”
Nathan leans forward, handing me a packet of paper. “I’ve already drafted a preliminary schedule based on our digital engagement patterns. Knight Industries’ social media presence peaks on Mondays and Fridays. Maximum visibility would be?—”
“Wednesdays at three p.m.,” I finish his sentence for him with a confident smile. “Based on my research, your optimal window for personal announcements differs from corporate ones. We’ll have to be cautious about creating organic spread without it feeling manufactured.”
Nathan’s eyebrow rises slightly. “You learned all that in twenty-four hours?”
“Knight Industries’ social media presence is public data. I simply analyzed the last six months.”
Jonathan looks impressed. “You have a sharp eye.”
I pull up my presentation on my laptop and look to the two men. “May I?”
They both nod, indicating to me to continue. As I take them through my proposed strategy, I can feel Nathan watching me—assessing, evaluating, no doubt searching for any flaws to exploit. But he seems to not find any because his expression, with each passing minute, grows more resigned.
“I’m suggesting a three-phase approach,” I explain, turning my laptop so both men can see the calendar. “First, a subtle hint post from Kiera’s accounts, perhaps a photo of her hand resting on Jonathan’s. No ring visible, but with a cryptic caption about ‘new beginnings.’ This will create initial buzz that we’ll build up over time.”
Jonathan nods, seemingly understanding my logic.
“One week later, after smaller posts throughout the previous week, we follow with the official engagement announcement—professional photos, a heartfelt caption, the works.”
“And the third phase?” Nathan asks, skeptically.
“That’s when we leverage Knight Industries’ corporate channels—a congratulatory post that positions the engagement as a personal milestone while maintaining professional boundaries.”
Reluctant appreciation creeps onto Nathan’s features. “You seem to have thought this through.”
“Of course.” I turn to Jonathan. “The goal is to satisfy public curiosity while maintaining privacy. Give them enough to feel included yet keep the truly intimate moments for yourselves.”
Jonathan sits back, clearly pleased. “This is exactly the approach we want. Don’t you think, Nathan?”
Nathan nods slowly. “It’s…comprehensive.”
Coming from him, that might as well be a half compliment.
The longer this meeting goes, the more of a productive rhythm all three of us fall into. For a while, I almost forget the complicated history between Nathan and me. Almost.
Without warning, my presentation vanishes when my laptop dies completely, the third time today despite the power cord being firmly connected all night and most of the early morning.
I breathe a frustrated sigh, pressing the power button and hoping it comes back to life. But nothing happens. “I’m sorry; it was fully charged when I arrived.” I fumble with the charger in my bag, desperately looking for an outlet around the room.
“Here,” Nathan offers unexpectedly, showing me his tablet. “I’ve been taking notes. We can work from these.”
Our eyes meet briefly before I glance at his screen. Even though he isn’t touching me this time, that familiar electricity zips through me.
“Thanks, but I’m okay,” I murmur, quickly refocusing on the meeting. “As I was explaining about the announcement timeline…”
We continue the meeting smoothly despite the technical difficulties, my professional training allowing me to adapt without missing a beat. I feel Nathan watching me as I speak, his gaze steady and assessing. When I finish with everything I have to say, I wait for their response.
“How old is the laptop?” Jonathan asks a question I don’t expect, glancing at my dead computer.
“About three years,” I admit. “It’s just acting up, that’s all. Worst timing ever, right?” I try to laugh off the awkward situation.
Nathan’s expression shifts subtly. “You should get that checked out. Could be a faulty battery or a software malfunction.”
“I’ve had IT look at my laptop in the past, but it didn’t help anything. Probably time to retire it,” I exclaim.
Just then, Jonathan’s phone chimes with a notification. His expression darkens as he reads the screen.
“Everything okay?” Nathan asks.
Jonathan sighs. “Not exactly. Someone just posted on X claiming they have ‘insider information’ about me, that I’ve been cheating on Kiera. They’re threatening to reveal the details, including the names of the women I supposedly cheated on her with.”
My PR instincts kick in immediately. “May I see?”
He hands me his phone, and I quickly scan the post. The account is new, with only a handful of followers—classic troll behavior. But the mention of a cheating scandal by name suggests someone with at least peripheral knowledge of Jonathan’s routine.
“This looks like someone fishing for attention,” I assess, already formulating a response plan. “They’ve included just enough accurate information about you to seem credible, but I doubt they have actual hard evidence.”
“Should we respond?” Jonathan asks, concern evident in his voice.
“No,” I say firmly. “That’s exactly what they want. Engaging gives them legitimacy and amplifies their platform.” I hand the phone back. “Instead, let’s get ahead of this. What is this bar in the photo you’re spotted going into?”
“The Brick. Our friend, Ian Brown, owns the place. Kiera and I visit there all the time with friends.”
I slowly nod in response. “May I open your social media?”
“Please.” Jonathan looks puzzled as I start typing rapidly.
“What are you doing?” Nathan asks.
“Debunking this post.” I turn the phone to his gaze. “Which photo of you and Kiera would you like me to use?”
Pressing a finger to the screen, he chooses one taken as a selfie. He and Kiera are sharing a kiss. “This was taken at the Brick about two months ago.”
Perfect.
Pulling the phone back to me, I type a quick message in the caption and slide the phone back to Jonathan.
“I hope you don’t mind…”
Jonathan reads the draft. He looks almost astonished.
Nathan, however, keeps his skeptical expression. “Wouldn’t that just fuel more speculation?”
“The photo shows a lot of love between the two, which will address the allegation without really addressing it. Also, it debunks most of the receipts the post claims since the photo they have, and the photo we have, look to have been taken on the same night.”
Nathan takes the phone from Jonathan’s hand. Even from the other side of the table, his cologne—that familiar, intoxicating scent—clouds my senses momentarily.
He slowly turns his gaze to his brother after inspecting the soon-to-be post. “This could work.”
“Creating an official narrative that makes this fake garbage seem superfluous.” Jonathan confirms my thinking to Nathan.
“Exactly,” I assure. “Would you like to post it?”
“Post it. Everywhere,” Jonathan decides, nodding firmly to Nathan. Nathan’s hands make quick work as he goes from platform to platform.
When Nathan is done, he hands the phone back to his brother. “It’s done.”
“I’ll monitor the situation over the weekend,” I assure them. “If this troll gains any traction, we’ll adjust our approach. But I expect they’ll lose interest once they realize they’re not getting the big reaction they were hoping for.”
“Thank you,” Jonathan says sincerely. “This is exactly why we hired you.”
After completing a tentative schedule for the coming weeks—photoshoots, announcement drafts, and the like—we end the meeting.
As I gather my stuff, Jonathan looks at me. “Oh, before I forget, the company is having a small gathering at this bar called the Brick tomorrow night—Nothing fancy, just drinks, catching up, and having a good time. Would you like to come?”
I’m surprised by his invitation. “That’s very kind, but I wouldn’t want to intrude on a personal get-together.”
“You wouldn’t be,” Jonathan insists with genuine warmth. “Plus, Kiera specifically asked me to invite you and Lyla.”
I hesitate, glancing briefly at Nathan who suddenly finds the floor rather interesting. The professional in me recognizes the value in seeing their friend dynamics. But spending casual time with Nathan in a bar he knows and I don’t feels dangerous.
“We’d understand if you couldn’t come. You already have a lot on your plate,” Nathan says unexpectedly, his tone professional but a hint of a challenge hides in his voice.
I square my shoulders. “Actually, I’d be happy to attend,” I reply smoothly. “Tell Kiera Lyla and I thank her for inviting us.”
“Great.” Jonathan smiles, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrent between Nathan and me. “Eight o’clock tomorrow night. I’ll text you the address.”
As I rise from my seat to leave the office, Jonathan excuses himself to take a call, leaving Nathan and me alone.
There’s long silence between us, heavy with unspoken thoughts, as I try to gather my things to leave.
“That was good work,” Nathan says. His words make me come to a stop. “With the troll situation.”
The compliment catches me off guard. But I do my best to hide it as I turn to face him. “Thank you.” I accept the compliment, though the words reflect my cautiousness.
“You’ve always been so quick on your feet,” he continues, his eyes intent on mine. “It’s one of your more…admirable qualities.”
Where is he going with this? I can’t tell if this is flirting, taunting, or just him acknowledging my professional skills. “Just doing my job,” I reply. “I appreciate the validation from Knight Industries’ chief innovation officer.”
His lips quirk slightly. “Is that what this is about for you? Professional validation?”
“What else would it be about?” I counter.
Nathan steps closer, his voice dropping. “You tell me, Quinn. You’re the one who showed up in that skirt.”
Heat threatens to creep up my neck as I do my best to maintain my composure. “Careful, Nathan. Someone might think you’re noticing things you shouldn’t be.”
“Just making an observation.” His eyes hold mine, challenge clear in them. “Day three of our bet, and you seem to be trying awfully hard.”
“I’m simply dressing professionally.” I play coy with practiced innocence. “If you find it distracting, that’s hardly my concern.”
He laughs softly, the sound sending an unwelcome shiver down my spine. “Keep telling yourself that.”
The way he’s looking at me makes me wonder if he can see right through me. If he can see past the professional facade to the woman underneath who still remembers how his hands felt on her skin. No. This is getting into dangerous territory. I need to get out of here.
“I should go,” I say, reaching for my laptop. “I have other clients to attend to.”
“On a Saturday?” He raises a brow.
I put my hand on my hip. “Not all of us can leave work at the office.”
Something shifts in his expression—a moment of what might be concern. “How is the new business going? Really?”
The unexpected question throws me off. My first instinct is to deflect, giving him the polished version I present to everyone else. But something in his gaze makes me hesitate. His question seems genuine. Maybe he’s not as heartless as I thought he’d become.
“It’s…challenging,” I admit, surprising myself with my honesty. “Then again, building a business from scratch always is.”
Nathan nods, seemingly in understanding. “I get that. I remember those days. The constant hustle, never enough hours in the day, wondering if you made the right choice…”
“Something like that,” I acknowledge, momentarily disarmed by this glimpse of the man I used to know—the one who understood ambition and uncertainty, who’d held me through nights of professional self-doubt.
“If it’s any consolation,” he says after a brief pause, “Jonathan’s impressed. And he doesn’t impress easily.”
Before I can respond, the office door opens as Jonathan returns.
“Sorry about that,” he says, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Kiera sends her regards, Quinn.”
And just like that, the moment—whatever it was—has left the building. That professional mask of his slowly makes its appearance again as I thank Jonathan and confirm our next meeting.
Leaving Jonathan’s office, I look back at Nathan. We’re supposed to win against each other. For very high stakes. But what is this energy between us? I don’t recognize it. It’s not our usual antagonism, nor is it attraction. Rather, it’s some combination of both—perhaps a toxic blend. I don’t trust it. And I’m probably being smart by not trusting it. Regardless, I need to keep myself in control.
This job is too important for me to lose to Nathan before I’ve even had a chance to fight. I can’t jeopardize my career just because of some complicated feelings for a man who still, and perhaps always will, think the absolute worst of me.