Page 82 of Dirty Play

I check her office first. Empty. The media room? Nothing.

Frustration builds as I stalk through the halls. I need to talk to her. I need to explain and fix this before it’s too late.

I push through the hallway, turning the corner, when I spot Damien heading out of the locker room. He glances up, a smile stretching across his face as he sees me.

“Have you seen Livia?” I call, already approaching.

Damien cocks his head, his sharp hazel eyes studying me.

“Saw her leave her office about five minutes ago,” he says, shoving his phone into his pocket. Damien steps closer, crossing his arms over his chest. “By the way,” he adds, lowering his voice slightly, “I heard some interesting sounds coming from your pool last night.”

“You eavesdropping now?” I level him with a look.

“Not my fault your house is next door, and sound carries.” He chuckles. “I was gonna send a text and tell you to keep it down, but,” he shrugs, “didn’t want to ruin your fun."

I exhale sharply, rubbing my jaw. “Yeah, well, it's not fun anymore. She found out.”

“Shit.” That wipes the smirk off his face. His expression sharpens, turning serious.

“Yeah. Shit,” I mutter. “She heard me and Ares talking. I need to find her.”

My phone vibrates.

I pull it out, hoping it might be her, but my stomach drops the second I see the text.

CHRISTINA:My office. Now.

“What?” Damien reads my expression in an instant.

I show him the screen from the HR rep.

“You think…” His brows dip together.

“I don’t know,” I say tightly. “But I have a fucking bad feeling about this.”

Without another word, I turn and head for HR, each step heavier than the last.

I pocket my phone, tension coiling tight in my shoulders.

When I reach Christina’s office, I don’t bother knocking. I just push the door open and freeze.

Livia is already sitting there.

Her hands are clasped in her lap, her fingers twisting like she’s barely holding it together. She doesn’t even turn to look at me, but I see her eyes. They’re red and puffy like she’s been crying for most of the morning.

I barely get the chance to process that before my gaze shifts to the other side of the desk. Christina sits with a serious expression, with the team manager beside her, hands folded neatly.

What the fuck is this?

The door clicks shut behind me.

I glance back at Livia, waiting for her to look at me, to say something. But she doesn’t. Her stare stays locked on the desk, her lips pressed in a thin line, like she can’t even bear to look in my direction.

A sharp, uneasy feeling twists in my gut.

“Sit down, Rowan,” Christina says.

My jaw ticks, and my pulse pounds.

---