Page 56 of Power Play

And with that, she sashays out of the conference room and slams the door behind her. With an audibleclick, the door locks, leaving Duke and I completely alone.

I doubt he’s as thrilled about these turn of events as I am.

His back is still facing me, but I see the way his shoulders bunch under the frame of his jacket as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “Still up to your dirty tricks, then, Charlie?”

As much as I want to offer a sarcastic retort to that statement, I bite my lip and clamber to my feet. My ankle wobbles a little, thanks to the fact that I’m not accustomed to wearing such high heels.

Cutting around the corner of the desk, I move toward Duke, stopping when I get within a few feet of him.

“I wanted to talk with you,” I tell him, wishing that he would glance my way. When his gaze remains resolutely on the wall behind me, I blow out a breath. “I also wanted to apologize.”

His throat works with a hard swallow. “Apology accepted.”

“I don’t think you mean that.”

Shoulders stiffening, he slams a palm on the desk and finally turns to me. His eyes are an unholy hue of blue, almost stunning in their vibrancy. “I’m done playing games, Charlie. Especially with you.”

“Okay, great.” My hands go up, facing out in front of me. “I’m done playing games too.”

Mutely he stares at me like he’s wondering what the hell I’m doing still breathing in his presence.

Thank God Gwen thought ahead and locked us in here. I never thought I might love her to death, but here I am, considering naming my firstborn daughter after her.

I lick my lips. “I want to start by saying that I’m sorry.” My hands fall to my sides, fingers awkwardly tapping my thighs sheathed in a form-fitting skirt. “I’m sorry for betraying your trust. I’m sorry that, initially, all I wanted from you was material for my job. I’m sorry that I saw your downs as an opportunity to elevate my career to a new high.”

Though the dark expression on his face certainly hasn’t eased, his hand on the desk is no longer balled into a fist. A good sign, I hope. Since he doesn’t seem inclined to respond just yet, I lace my fingers together in front of me and force myself to continue, for better or for worse.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you what my boss wanted of me or that—”

His raspy voice cuts off my pre-rehearsed speech. “What did your boss want?”

“Celebrity gossip.” My gaze flicks away before bouncing back to the man who, in the short span of a month, has caught my attention like no one else has—ever. “Gwen was right when she said thatThe Tribuneis one flush away from the sewer line. Josh, my boss, decided that the only way to keep the newspaper afloat was to revert to pushing gossip rags.”

Retreating to the other side of the table, Duke folds his massive frame into a leather chair. He looks impenetrable, like uncut granite. When his hands settle on the table, his sleeves hike up, exposing thick wrists and tattoos on his left forearm.

A reminder that I haven’t yet seen him fully naked. It’s a travesty, I tell you.

Refusing to accept defeat in the face of his Cold War expression, I lift my chin and prepare to march to battle. “Josh gave me an ultimatum. Either I convinced you to give me the interview, or I was fired.”

“I’m assuming you’re living a cushy lifestyle now,” he says in a low voice. The bright February sun has turned his hair to a burnished gold, though the hard planes of his face are cast in shadow. “TMZpays a pretty penny for a salacious story.”

“I quit, actually.”

The line of his mouth tugs down. “Excuse me?”

Whelp, here goes nothing. “I quit. I admit full responsibility to writing that piece of trash that hitTMZand then spread all over like a bad STD—”

“Is there such thing as a good STD?”

I ignore his sarcastic commentary. “I exposed information of yours that I shouldn’t have. I did all of that.” Moving to his side of the table, I push back the chair next to his and sit down gingerly, giving him time to adjust to my nearness. He doesn’t move, which I take as a good sign.

“In my defense,” I murmur, “That article was never meant to see the light of day. I wrote it, hating myself as I typed out the words. I’m not hiding from the fact that I’m ambitious or that I want to succeed, and I know that you joke about me playing dirty. But I promise you that I never gave that article to my boss. I trashed it, literally, and sent Josh something completely different.”

“How different?” His voice is like the crack of a whip in the otherwise quiet conference room.

“There’s no mention of Gwen in any other capacity than as your PR agent,” I tell him honestly, hoping that he’ll find it in himself to believe me. “I don’t bash your stats, nor do I link your personal life to the game. I focus on the sport. I focus on your influence on the game of hockey . . . It’d be easier if you just read it for yourself.”

“Charlie, I’m not interested—”

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