Chapter 25 - Quinn
TWENTY-FIVE - Quinn
“What the fuck did you just say to me?”
“You heard me,” Nick replies before swallowing hard.
I see the tremble in his cheeks as he looks at me, trying to match my energy, but he can't pull it off.
My energy is dark matter—not to be replicated or even understood.
I'm a fucking black hole ready to annihilate everything around me, and he has no idea that he's a hair’s width away from the event horizon, yet he still trembles.
I stare at him, my mind imagining me vaulting over my desk and wrapping my fingers around his throat until he can no longer speak a word about Olivia, but I stay in my chair with hatred spewing from my irises.
After having refound his arrogance and audacity, shitting all over Olivia’s idea to pitch to East-World Bank, and throwing a hissy fit over not being able to do the same pitch he didn't even believe in, Nick has the nerve to step into my office and hurl accusations around like monkeys throwing shit.
He somehow manages to sit in front of me with that smug look on his face, completely unaware of how ridiculous he is.
I don't know how some people manage to do it, but this group of assholes at Obsidian has mastered the art of having the fucking gall.
I want to hurt him. Bad. Being with Olivia is doing a number on my ability to keep my dark devil at bay, because I feel the lines between us blurring.
It’s becoming harder to figure out where I end and it begins, but I have to keep it together.
I just got promoted, and this is a game being played.
This corporate life is a giant chess board, and I don't win if I stand up and knock all of the pieces off the table. That’s exactly what they want us to do—lose our shit over their audacity so they can say we’re violent DEI hires who don't deserve the positions we’ve earned by being twice as good as them.
I can't let that happen. If I want to win, I have to maintain my composure, but it is becoming so fucking hard.
I clear my throat and flex my jaw. “Nick, the only reason I'm not fucking you up right now is because I just got promoted and I don't want to be fired just yet, but you're pushing it.
You don't know shit about me or Olivia, so I advise you to close your mouth and get out of my office as quickly as possible.”
“Interesting,” he says, rubbing his stubbled chin. “I heard threats, and I heard arrogance, but I definitely didn't hear denial. So, it’s true then? You're fucking Olivia?”
Hearing him say it again sends my body into autopilot. Against my better judgment, I snap, hopping up from my seat with my finger pointed.
“Keep your fucking voice down,” I snip. “I see what you're doing—coming in here and saying that bullshit as loudly as you can just because she didn't pick you to do the EWB pitch.
Get over yourself, bitch. The reason you did pitches with Jon before was because he was the CISO.
He's gone now and I'm the CISO, so I'm doing the pitches the same way my predecessor used to.
If you don't like it, go cry in a fucking corner until you dehydrate and die, but do not come in here with accusations that have the same amount of evidence as you have common sense—fucking zero.
Now, I'm not going to tell you again, get up and get out of my office.”
Nick lets out an aggressively loud huff as he slams his hands on the arms of the chair and stands up, his face reddening as his nervous breathing makes him stammer.
“This … this is bullshit. Maybe I should fuck the CEO and get promoted to a position I don’t deserve, leap frogging two guys with more seniority in the process.
Talk about special privileges and favoritism.
Since you claim you're not fucking her, maybe I’ll shoot my shot and see where it gets me. ”
The heat that engulfs me from the inside is hot enough to send steam shooting from my ears.
I don't know where it comes from. My emotions sneak up on me and catch me by surprise, and the next thing I know, I'm nose to nose with Nick, my fists balled so tight my knuckles threaten to pierce my skin. My glare is menacing as my nostrils flare and my breathing picks up. I’m ready for war in a matter of seconds.
If I don't tighten up, it’ll be a checkmate for my career.
“Say that again,” I tell him, but it’s not a demand. It is one hundred percent a threat. “I fucking dare you to say another word about Olivia. I promise you won't walk out of this office if you do. Somebody will have to carry you out.”
“Oh, you want to fight me over the woman you're not fucking?” Nick says.
I'm like a coiled viper ready to strike, and what's worse is that I know he's right.
He may not have any evidence or proof, and he's just fishing for anything to make himself feel better because that’s what pussies do, but he's right and he doesn't even really know it.
So, as much as I'm feeling an uncommon sense of protectiveness over Olivia, my anger is also fueled by the fact that I know I'm lying.
The people who tend to be the most defensive are usually the ones who know they're being found out, and I hate that I fit that mold, but it doesn't stop me from acting out.
I hate that being with her has me behaving this way, but I can't fucking help it.
“Say her name again,” I say in a voice resembling a pitbull’s growl. “That's all I want you to do. Say her name. Fuck all of this talking. Say her name … see what happens.”
Nick and I stand frozen, face to face like two ice sculptures, until we’re startled by another person stepping into the room.
“Whoa, what the fuck is going on in here?” Rob’s voice booms. “Did you know we can hear you two from down the hall? That’s enough, man. Come on, Q, step back, bro. Don't risk your career over this. It’s not worth it.”
I keep staring at Nick, but his eyes shift to Rob before cutting back to me.
“Yeah … Q. It’s not worth it. I’ll just head back to my office and start looking into which cybersecurity companies are hiring in my position or higher, because if we’re depending on you and her to save Obsidian, we’re all fucked. ”
I scoff, refusing to step back. “Save us all the trouble and just quit now, while you still have all of your teeth. You saw what happened the last time one of you bitches tried to run up on me. If you can't remember, just ask Jon. Oh, you’ll probably have to wait until visiting day for that, huh?”
“Fuck you, Quinn,” Nick says as he steps back and turns on his heel.
“Eat a fat dick, Nick,” I spit back, just as he walks out of my office, leaving Rob and I alone.
Rob slowly turns to face me with gawking eyes. He looks like a behemoth stuffing his muscles into a red and white button-up that’s a size too small. His brows knit together as he steps closer.
“Dude, go sit down,” he says. “What the hell has gotten into you, man?”
I steal a final glance at my door, hoping Nick is still close by, then I go to my chair and take a seat. It takes a minute for me to relieve some of the pressure that has built up in my chest, but I exhale a few times like I'm versed in meditation and I'm able to focus on Rob.
“You good now?” Rob asks, watching me close my eyes and get recentered.
“I guess,” I reply. “I’d still rather chase him into his office like the villain in a horror movie and beat the shit out of him.”
Rob scoffs, then asks, “Why?”
“What do you mean, why?” I reply with my brows drawing together.
“Why do you want to beat that dude up? He's weak as shit. It wouldn't even be a fair fight.”
“That’s the point. A little bitch like him shouldn't be talking crazy, especially about my private life with Olivia.”
Rob points a finger. “There. That’s it right there.
That’s why you want to beat him up. I was standing outside for at least the last half of that argument.
Olivia was actually inching her way closer to your door, but I mouthed to her that I would take care of it.
I know that the two of you are a thing, but she's still the CEO, Q.
You can't risk your livelihood like that. Not to mention,” Rob looks over his shoulder at the empty doorway before leaning closer to me, “you're not supposed to be catching feelings for her, bro.”
“I’m not,” I snap quickly, my body naturally defensive in an instant.
“Yes, you are,” Rob says. “I heard it, Q. As soon as Nick mentioned trying to get with Olivia, you lost it. I could hear it in your voice. All of that soft spoken, professional, code switching shit you do when you're at work was completely gone. You became fucking Q King from Wilmington—Quincy’s son—and you were ready to move the furniture in here. I heard it, bro, and you might not be able to see what’s up, but I'm telling you, you're starting to get a little too close.
You already told us that she's not interested in anything serious with you.”
“I'm not getting serious,” I say. “What’s the big deal?
I'm not allowed to make sure that she's not being disrespected? Plus, he was insinuating shit that isn't any of his business, and he was doing it loud as hell. You just said you heard it from outside the door, and I can’t have everybody in the building knowing about my personal life.”
“Come on, Q, you know what I'm talking about.”
“Nah, you're reading it wrong, bro. He was being disrespectful to be both me and Olivia. Plus, I'm his superior now, so he has no choice but to come correct.”
Rob pauses a minute, eyeing me closely like a piece of art. He shakes his head, then nods. “Is she your girl, Q?”
“What?”
“Nah, don't play dumb now,” he says. “You are not suddenly hard of hearing. Is Olivia Lucero your girl?”
I scoff, scrunching my forehead as a feeling of being flustered comes to life in my chest like a baby alien. “What? Bro, I'm not doing this with you. Don't you have some work to do?”
“Just answer the question, Q,” he demands, never breaking eye contact. “Do you think of Olivia as your girl?”
I lean back in my chair as far as it will go, and I just stare at Rob.
I want to tell him he's crazy. Of course I don't think of Olivia as my woman.
She's not mine, and I'm not confused about that. We’re just having sex.
Exploring. Learning together. Having fun.
She's showing me the ropes of the BDSM lifestyle, and it’s not serious.
There isn't anything more to it than that.
I want to say all of it to him, but the words get stuck in my throat like I've swallowed quicksand.
I don't respond. I can't, and I can tell from the look on Rob’s face that we both know exactly why.
Rob shakes his head, but just as he inhales to speak again, there's a tap on my open door. Olivia sticks her head in and smiles. My chest nearly erupts, because it’s the first time she has smiled at me all day, and I hate that it makes me feel anything at all … but it does.
“Hey, Q—Quinn,” she says, stumbling over my name again. “Everything okay?”
I nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah, we’re good. Just Nick being Nick.”
She presses her lips into a line, then says, “Yeah, I know.
Don't let him make you lose your head.” After I nod, she continues.
“Listen, I was wondering if you're free for a strategy dinner.
Maybe we could hit a restaurant or a bar or something and go over our plans for the EWB proposal.
My schedule is full for today, but maybe we could put something on the books for tomorrow, if you don't mind.”
“Of course I don't mind,” I say without thinking. “Just shoot me a message for when and where.”
“Perfect. Will do. Thank you, Sir,” she says with a sly smile, then she disappears.
My heart thuds from hearing her call me Sir again, and I don't know how I'm even going to be able to finish out the work day. My body reacts to Olivia’s presence in ways I can’t comprehend.
It’s like she sets off tiny nukes beneath my skin each time she's near, and the fallout is a state of euphoric horniness.
I want to fuck her, kiss her, hold her, cuddle her, and blemish her skin all at the same time.
I keep thinking about the way her face turned red when I choked her in her office, and I'm desperate to see it again.
When I look away from the door, I find Rob staring at me with an open mouth and bugged out eyes. He shakes his head, then he lets out a small, entertained chuckle.
“Wow,” he says. “I can't believe it.”
I shrug, shaking off the leftover remnants of the effect Olivia has on me. “Can't believe what? What are you talking about?”
“You're really falling for her,” Rob says, his face shifting to an expression of serious concern.
I scoff again. “What? I am not falling for her. She wants to meet up and you know why. You expect me to say no?”
“Nah, of course not,” he replies. “But it’s not about that. It’s about the way you look at her.”
I roll my eyes as hard as I can. “Oh my god.”
“Nah, don't try to play it off. I was watching you the whole time—never took my eyes off of you for a single second. I saw it, Q. It pours from your eyes like starlight.”
“Starlight?” I exclaim, before I start laughing. “What? My fucking newfound love shoots from my eyes like starlight? Who are you, William Shakespeare now? Get the fuck out of here, Rob. There's no starlight. You're tripping.”
I laugh, but Rob doesn't laugh with me. He doesn't even smile. He simply stares, and I see the seriousness written all over his face. The room goes silent, and I suddenly feel like my friend is in on a secret that I'm not.
“Am I, Q?” he asks, his face completely humorless.
I try to force myself to answer, but I can't. I see that he's not bullshitting and it scares me. I'm not afraid of Rob. I’m terrified of him being right.
He suddenly stands and walks to the door, spinning around a final time before he leaves.
“Think about what you're doing, man, and if you're still able to, you need to pull back a little.
But in order to do that, you have to be honest with yourself.
I'm not trying to hate on you. You know I love you. I just don't want to see you get hurt, bro. That’s all. Hit me up, later.”
He nods a final time. Then, he's gone.