Page 48 of Twisted Knight

You’re too close to ruin everything now.

Too fucking close.

And yet when she finally turns to go into her office, I’m still staring at where she was.

Still thinking about the woman I should put off-limits—but know I won’t.

She’s part of the game.

And sometimes games have consequences.

FOURTEEN

Rowan

He called me out in front of the whole room.

Put a fucking spotlight on me so that every manager in there thinks we have something going on that doesn’t exist. We need to finish our conversation where we left off. Created doubt in their minds over why he’d make that comment, as if I know something they don’t.

Rumors. Rumors. And more rumors.

If he thinks his comment will spark me to act now, he’s batshit crazy. Firing Joshua was a nice touch. The fucking prick deserved it, but the subtle threat Holden laid out there to all management was heard. Loud and fucking clear.

And then to sit there like that, like he’s fucking king of the castle in the conference room, staring at me as if I owe it to talk to him.

Fuck him.

I stalk into my office, my cell already buzzing in my hand. I’m just about to sit down when I glance down to Chad’s text of WTF, Row? I’m out of my office in seconds, not giving a rat’s ass if Holden is still there staring, and head straight to Chad’s.

“If you have something to say, just come out and say it to me,” I snap the minute I’ve cleared his doorway and have shut the door behind me.

Chad stops mid-motion before slowly sinking into his chair. He has a dark blue shirt on today that makes his eyes stand out more than they normally do. His dirty-blond hair is cropped short but styled, and his skin is tanned from time spent in the sun, most likely playing golf.

He’s not a bad guy by any means. He’s … he’s just Chad. The guy who has always been around. Rhett’s best friend. A guy I used to hunt crayfish with and who taught me how to drive stick shift in my pop’s old Ford truck. Someone who has been through way too much with the Rothschild family.

Any spark between us is strictly platonic.

But when Chad glances up and meets my eyes, the look he gives me says he’s more than curious about Holden’s comment.

“What was that all about?” he asks in that calm, unruffled demeanor of his.

“What was what all about? You two brought the guy in here, not me. Ask yourself that.”

But I know exactly what his comment was about.

My door is still open and you’ve yet to walk through it.

“It just seems like…”

“Like I have a less than lukewarm relationship with someone the two of you have forced me to work with? It’s not like I was given a say in the matter,” I say sarcastically. “You can’t have it both ways. You can’t tell me I have to get along with him and in the same breath hope I’ll remain at odds with him for your own sakes.”

“You know what? Forget I asked.” He gives that easygoing smile of his. “I’m just being paranoid.”

Why? I don’t voice the single syllable though. Because isn’t that how I’ve been feeling every second of every day as I resist the urge to tell Holden he’s right about both the direction we need to move marketing in and about giving me the chance to get my hands on everything else?

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what we talked about,” he says.

“We’ve talked about a lot of things, Chad.”