Page 55 of Power Play

Cue a vomiting sensation.

I don’t know if I can do this.

“Gwen, I—”

She cuts me off with a raised hand. “No. No way are you bailing on me right now. Do youknowhow long it took me to convince the CEO that this was a good idea? Tricking one of our clients into a fake meeting so that his frumpy girlfriend can kiss and make up with him is not in my pay grade.”

I ignore the “frumpy” comment, mainly because I look cute today. Jenny dressed me, as per usual. My fitted black skirt, off-the-shoulder blue silk top, and matching black stilettos screamsprofessionalbusinesswoman.

The exact look I was going for when I concocted today’s plan of action.

“What time did you say he would be here?” My gaze flits to my wristwatch. Ten-twenty.

“Ten-thirty.”

Ten minutes until show time. Holy baby Jesus, I need to sit down.

Except that I alreadyamsitting down, which doesn’t bode well for what’s coming next.

“If you’re going to puke, do it there,” Gwen tells me, pointing at the small garbage can in the opposite corner of the room. “Otherwise, I’ll be back soon. Try to sweat a little less—you’re looking oily.”

And with that, she leaves me to my own devices.

Sunlight streams in from the window, toasting my neck and back until I worry I might start smoking.

I pull my hair off the back of my neck, and fan my face with my free hand. I am so effing nervous I’m ready to combust with anxiety.

Realistically, I know that I’m taking a big leap of faith here. There’s a very good chance that Duke’s interest in me has already waned, and that everything I’ve planned will be for naught.

It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Under an umbrella of complete honesty, I want to see what could become of Duke and I’s relationship.

My ears perk at the sound of voices on the other side of the closed door. There’s Gwen’s high-pitched tenor and Duke’s low timbre. As I struggle to regulate my breathing, I watch as the door slowly swings open like something out of a horror movie.

Cue an influx of creepy as hell zombies.

And clowns—can’t forget about the clowns.

“We have a lot to discuss today,” Gwen says, motioning for Duke to bypass her with a wave of her hand. Since I’m seated to the far right, out of sight of the doorway, he hasn’t spotted me. My cover hasn’t yet been blown. “Congratulations on the win last night, by the way. Excellent save.”

“Thanks.”

I wince. He sounds . . . hollow, chilly, if that’s even possible.

“TheGQfeature will go live tomorrow, as well. I’ll send you over the URL as soon as the editor alerts me that the piece has been published.”

“Are you sure we needed to meet today, if we’re getting everything taken care before we’ve even sat down?”

There’s a small pause as Gwen positions herself opposite me, so that Duke is forced to present me with his back. I send up a silent prayer to the gods for allowing Gwen to put aside her bitchiness for the time being and to help a girl out.

“Sorry, Duke, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now, but I’ve brought in someone I would like for you to talk to about an upcoming project.”

My heart flops over in my chest. This is my moment. “Hello, Mr. Harrison.”

His shoulders visibly flinch, and I swear he stops breathing. The air stills right along with him, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the temperature hasn’t dropped down into the negatives. When he does speak, his voice is tightly leashed. “I’m not doing this today.”

Bless Gwen’s heart—I’m not even kidding, this time.

To everyone’s surprise, including my own, she tosses back her red hair, lifts a key into the air, and cackles. Okay, so it’s a perfectly perfect Oprah Winfrey-show laugh. Doesn’t matter. Whatdoesmatter is the way she practically prances to the door and announces, “Too bad, Duke, I made a promise. Oh, by the way. This room? There is no security video.”

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